Page 69 of A Treachery of Swans

The uncertainty of it all is unbearable. I need to get out of this cell, and fast.

Think, Odile, think.I shove my knuckles between my teeth and bite down until I feel the flesh give way with apop,until my lips stain with gold and I taste nothing but its metallic bitterness. The pain helps release some of the frustrated, furious tension in my chest.Think.I wipe my bleeding knuckles on my breeches and force myself to breathe. I scan the floors, the ceiling. I test the iron bars, the thick lock upon them. I find nothing. Despair sinks into me. I feel as though the walls are closing in, pressing tighter and tighter, mocking me cruelly. Trapped. Is this how Marie felt for all those years in her tower?

In the end, the cold defeats me. I slump back down against the wall, draw my knees up to my chest. Shivers wrack my body. Finally my eyes drift closed.

What follows is not a dream.

I stand upon a floor of black-and-white tiles expanding before me like an infinite chessboard. My surroundings are dark, churning as though made of black fog. From within, something watches me, though I see little of it but a brief flash of chipped teeth.

When I open my mouth to call out to the entity, lake water floods across my tongue. I cough, splutter, but what I spit up isn’t lake water at all: it’s blood, golden blood.

That is when the creature speaks.

“It is almost time, Daughter of the Blood. Claim your power.”

I jerk awake, disoriented and panicking. My mouth still tastes of the not-dream, rancid lake water, and the iron tang of my own blood. The damp of the prisons has seeped through my shirt, sticking it to the icy stone wall. And…

There are footsteps approaching my cell.

“Well, well, well.” A faint light appears at the end of the hallway, cutting through the filth and silence of the dungeons. “I think we have learned a lesson, haven’t we?”

“Papa,” I gasp, and I know I sound desperate, like a child finding its parents after being separated in a crowd. I swipe quickly at my eyes as a familiar silhouette appears, spindle-thin, holding a lantern aloft.

Regnault’s eyes glitter in the gloom, his lips thinning as he takes in my disheveled state. The feathers of his raven-feather mark shiver as he approaches.

“Whatever have you done to yourself, little owl?”

I scramble to my feet. “I’m so sorry, Papa. I swear I was going to tell you everything—”

He puts up a hand. “I care not for your excuses. Trying to befriend noblesse, after all they have done to us. Mothers, what put such an asinine idea into your head?”

“I only…” I look away, unable to handle his mocking eyes pressing into me. “I thought that we could work with them to free magic. Aimé, he… he seemed like he would understand, he…” I trail off, realizing how naive I sound.

My father clicks his tongue. “Oh, Odile, you foolish girl. All it took was one word, one baseless accusation, from your traitorous brother for the Dauphin to turn on you. You think a half-drunken fop prone to flights of fancy will ever listen to reason? He only ever cared for you because he thought you were his pretty fiancée. He would never listen to you likethis.” He gestures to me, and my skin prickles self-consciously.

“He m-might,” I say, shrinking back. “If Marie—”

“Oh,Marie.” He chuckles, a sound so serrated, it raises the hair on the back of my scalp. “Yes, then there is Marie d’Odette, who should still be a swan. I must commend your audacity,ma fille,in going against my word. But for all your efforts to help her, the sweet princess seems to have no intention to return the favor. In fact, she’s been proclaiming to any who will listen that she was misled by you,corruptedby you, into helping with your plans.”

“You’re lying.” The words come out strangled.

“She’s betrayed you before, hasn’t she? What made you think she wouldn’t do it again?”

I think of the dim stable, of Marie’s eyes lowering in shame as she walks back to her mother’s side. It’s shameful how quickly I’d forgotten that old resentment when faced with the Swan Princess’s doe eyes, her careful touches and easy reassurances.

“I thought… I thought she…” I can’t manage to say it. Can’t manage toadmitit.

My father’s eyes hold nothing but disappointment. “Oh, my poor little owl,” he says. “Did you actually think shelovedyou?”

The words are like a punch to the gut. My stomach seizes, the air rushing out of me, and when I open my mouth to deny it, my tongue sits leaden in my mouth. I can do nothing but grit my teeth, shame curdling inside me.

“You see now,” Regnault continues pityingly. “No one else could ever understand you, not like I do. All it takes is one mistake, one misstep, and they will abandon you. But not I. I will always be here, even when you lie to me and betray me as you have done. Even after all your misdeeds, I’m ready to forgive you. That is why I came: to offer you a chance at redemption.”

I can’t help the surge of relief his words send through me. I’m not alone, not entirely. I have Regnault—he is someone I should have never taken for granted. Someone I never should have questioned.

The light from my father’s lantern is the only warmth keeping away the midnight frost. I step closer, letting the heat of the small flame wash over me, and meet his eyes determinately.

“What do you need me to do?”

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