Page 28 of A Treachery of Swans

The spell-thread flares bright as sunlight, sending a pulse of pain through my arm.

Then it explodes.

SCENE XIIThe Lake

Minutes from Dawn

When I wake, there’s a ghost wrapping cold fingers around my throat.

I gasp, my vision fogged, and attempt to push the creature off, only to feel its firm, slender fingers tighten around my trachea in warning. The floor bobs up and down beneath my back. The world smells of rot, of old wood and older waters.

“Easy, sorciere,” says the ghost. Its voice is warm and husky, shaking almost imperceptibly. My palm is burning at my side, sending pangs of pain through my body. I flex my hand, and memories come suddenly flooding back to me.

The pendant. The swan. The spell.

And above me, Marie d’Odette d’Auvigny, not a ghost at all but a girl once more. She watches me carefully, her eyes glinting like fish scales. In the darkness, the planes of her face are angular, almost aquiline, but her eyes remain soft, their heavy lashes dippedin moonlight. One of her hands rests on my throat, squeezing, but her grip is hesitant. I bare my teeth at her, and she flinches.

“Don’t move,” she says.

I laugh. “Are you really trying to threaten me? I’ve been in far worse predicaments than this.”

I try to raise my head, and Marie allows me enough motion to realize that she is straddling me, her lithe knees pressed into the jut of my hips, her left hand on my throat. The close proximity makes my heart give a funny little flutter, my nerve endings sparking where our bodies make contact.

“In fact,” I say, shimmying a little just to taunt her, “this is rather pleasant.”

She flushes. “Enough.”

“Oh dear, did I make the princess uncomfortable?” I clench my hands, preparing to shove her off, and freeze.

The owl-face pendant is no longer in my grip. It’sgone.

I try to keep the panic from my features and fail.

Marie, unfortunately, notices. “Looking for something?” She holds her hand out of my reach, and I recognize the shine of the owl-face pendant’s chain. My heart skips a beat, but I force myself to remain calm.

“Give it back.”

Marie hides the pendant behind her back. “First I need you to tell me why you cursed me. And—and what you were doing in the palace.”

“Give me a single good reason I should do that,” I reply sweetly.

“If you don’t, I’ll destroy it,” Marie says. “And I’ll return to the Château and tell everyone what you’ve done. You’ll be arrested. Hanged for treason.”

“Attempted grand larceny, actually.” As I talk, I slowly inch my hand toward my pocket. “And I don’t think you’ll do that.” It’s inthe uncertainty of her words, the careful way she holds me down, as though she is worried she might hurt me. It’s in the uneven way her chest swells with every breath, straining against her bodice, too quick and stuttering with adrenaline. It’s in the fact that she’s still here, when she could have run while I was unconscious. “If I may, princess, I’d venture a guess that you’re enjoying this.”

“I’m not,” she snaps. “And stop calling me that.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever you say,princess.”

I palm Buttons from my pocket and turn it over three times. Marie notices the metallic flash just as I swing the butt of the pistol at her head. Her reflexes are surprisingly fast for a spoiled noble. She dodges aside, but the movement forces her to ease her grip on my throat, and it’s all I need to kick her off and reach for the pendant.

My hand closes around her fist as she recoils. With unexpected strength, she wrenches my arm back and we grapple for a moment, equally matched.

“Give it to me,” I seethe, trying to pull her fingers open. “That pendant lets me turn into you. Which means that even if you’re not a swan, part of you is still bound to the spell inside it. I’m not certain what destroying it would do to you, but I doubt it would be pleasant. You must give it back.”

“I can’t do that,” she pants, wispy curls falling in front of her eyes, the silk of her skirts brushing against my legs. “I can’t let you hurt anyone.”

“Who said I’m going to hurt anyone?”

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