Page 57 of A Treachery of Swans

Red Beard tightens his grip, spittle flying from his lips. “If you weren’t cheating, then how come none of us have won?”

The boy tugs his hand free and leaps back. “Maybe you’re just bad at the game!”

Red Beard growls. He lunges for the urchin, who ducks aside, only to be grabbed by the man with the scar over his eye. “I’ve another explanation,” Scar Face snarls. Something glints in his free hand. “Little whelp could be one of them sorcers. Usin’ magic to cheat.”

“Sorciers,you idiot,” the red-bearded man corrects him, grinning hungrily. “They’re called sorciers. And I think you might be onto something.”

I freeze, horror spearing through me. I know where this is going—I’ve seen it happen before. My pulse thuds against my ears.

“I can’t be here.” The words slip out of me inadvertently. I reach out shakily, seize Marie’s sleeve. “Come on.”

But she doesn’t move. “We cannot simply leave him!”

“There’s nothing we can do!” I hiss back.

In front of us, Scar Face snaps his teeth near the boy’s ear, making the child cry out in fear. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” He raises the object in his hand—a knife, gleaming viciously in the darkness. He presses it to the boy’s cheek. “What color do you bleed, little rat?”

My vision narrows to one thing. The boy’s wrists are covered in mud—too precise to be unintentional. These men are simple, fattened with paranoia and folktales of evil gold-blooded traitors. They’re too dumb to understand that magic is gone from Auréal. That even if the boywascheating, he isn’t doing it through sorcery.

It doesn’t matter to them. If the boy bleeds gold, they will kill him.

Run,something inside me screams, trembling and feral.Run!

The man presses the knife deeper.

“Stop!” Marie shouts suddenly. The Swan Princess brushes past me, striding toward the group of men. “Unhand him right now! That’s my brother!”

Four pairs of beady eyes turn to her, four cruel mouths curling into wicked grins. My heart slams into my throat, beating too fast.Run run run run run.

Marie ignores the danger. She shakes out her beautiful coils of pale gold hair and lifts her chin high. “What do any of you think you’re doing anyway, threatening a little boy?”

Scar Face sneers, lowering his knife a fraction. “Thislittle boywas cheatin’ us from coin.”

“Playing games, as little boys do.” Marie may wear simple clothing, but the nobility in her bearing, in her voice, is undeniable. She drifts across the square like a deity, like she has been woven from dreams and supplications. “Now, release him. Unless you want to answer to my brother, the Duke of Auvigny.”

“The Duke of—” Red Beard’s eyes widen. “Wait. That’s the future Dauphine.”

Scar Face hesitates. “If that’s the Dauphine, why is she dressed like a peasant?”

There’s a beat of silence, every figure in the square unmoving.

Then the little boy gives a shrill cry and kicks Scar Face between the legs.

He snatches a small bag off the stones and takes off down an alleyway, vanishing into the gloom. Marie freezes, suddenly aware she is too close to the press of furious, drunkenly irrational men. Feeling danger, I begin to move just as Scar Face blinks dumbly.

“The bastard took our coins,” he says.

It all happens very quickly after that. Red Beard gives a bellow and turns on Marie. I dart forward and catch her by the wrist, pulling her away just as Red Beard’s knife arcs toward her.

“You lying bitch!” Red Beard shouts.

“Run!” I manage, and we take off back the way we came, away from the apothecary’s shop and its promise of answers.

“Odile!” Marie shouts, but I shake my head, pulling her along behind me. A carriage comes rattling toward us, and we narrowly avoid its wheels. Marie trips, going down with a yelp, and I seize her by the waist, pushing her onto her feet.

“Keep moving,” I pant, hearing the roars of the men behind us. “Come on!”

We gallop down the street, window lights and streetlamps blurring around us. The voices of the men begin to fade, but I don’t let her go, don’t stop running.

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