“I am always right. Now we had better make our exit.”
“Not yet,” Gabrielle said, popping the stopper off the inkwell she carried before dipping her brush in it.
“Again? And you were surprised that I was being petty?”
“I can’t help it. It’s the only spot of fun I get. Besides, don’t you see how thick the paint is caked on? It obviously irritates her,” Gabrielle smiled as she stood before a huge portrait of Queen Clotilde.
“Carry on, then. I am all for irritating the hag. But if you spill a drop of ink on my fur, I shall be forced to claw your hide.”
Gabrielle laughed and reached up to make the first brushstroke. “Have faith in my skills, Puss.”
An hour later, Queen Clotilde returned to her room. She glanced at her portrait and shrieked. “NOOOOOO!”
Two guards reluctantly entered her chambers. “What is wrong, Queen?”
Queen Clotilde raised a hand and pointed to her ruined portrait. “That brat!” she shouted. “Everyone tells me Princess Gabrielle is gone, but she’s struck again, and she’s ruined my portrait!”
The painting of Queen Clotilde was defaced. The queen’s painted face was once serene and beautiful. Now it sported a mustache, ear hair, and several warts, all drawn on with black writing ink.
The soldiers maintained blank expressions. “How unfortunate,” they parroted.
“It’s not unfortunate—it’s a crime! I want her head on a platter. Muster the guards and call for the royal painter this instant!”
“Of course, Queen.”
Chapter 11
Summer passed, and Elise worked steadily. Her hands hurt worse than ever, but she knitted with renewed determination. By the last month of summer, she had four finished shirts, and worked on the fifth with great vigor.
Life remained the same. Prince Toril visited often. Elise’s brothers did their best to spend their hour as humans to entertain her and relieve her pain. The days were, to be honest, boring and painful but not without little bits of joy.
Elise’s swan companion was a constant. And when Elise was about halfway through with her fifth shirt, her curiosity grew to unbearable limits.
Previously, Elise avoided wondering which prince her swan companion was. “They’re not my foster-brothers when they get their feathers and beak. They’re swans. They can’t possibly remember, much less realize, what they’re doing,” Elise explained one summer night during her hour of reprieve to Brida when the girls were washing together for a shared supper. “I know you think it is Falk, but I disagree. It could be any of my foster-brothers. Whatever prince it is probably doesn’t realize what he’s doing.”
“Of course,” Brida said, unconvinced.
Elise stood by her words…until her conviction lessened.
Her swan companion acted too human.
If Elise happened to drop a small item, like her whistle or one of her knitting needles, the swan clamped his beak around it and carried it for her. The swan ate whenever Elise ate rather than grazing all day long like his brothers, and he was watchful. Whenever a patrolling soldier passed, or even if Brida emerged from the woods for lunch, Elise’s companion swan watched.
What tickled Elise’s curiosity was that whenever Prince Toril visited, the swan pinched, smacked, and burrowed his way into sitting between Elise and the prince.
Elise tried to nonchalantly watch her companion swan when he hurried back to the lake to transform, but the wily bird always made sure to dart in between a few of his brothers, and Elise lost sight of him every time. Once Elise wove a crown of flowers and linked it around the base of the swan’s neck, but he ripped it off by the time sunset came.
Her curiosity aroused, Elise was not going to give in easily.
This called for drastic measures.
“Sunset is almost upon us. I’m going to stoke the fire,” Brida said.
Elise nodded but kept her eyes glued to her swan companion, who was snacking on grass.
“…Princess?”
Elise gave Brida a thumbs up and pulled her legs to her chest so she could rest her chin on her knees.
Brida hesitated before she leaned over and whispered, “Are you finally determined enough to confirm his identity?”
Elise nodded.
Brida smiled. “Good luck, Fürstin,” she said before she climbed the slope to the cottage and disappeared inside.
As the last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon, Elise’s swan companion stood.
Elise threw herself to her feet and scrambled after him.
When the swan reached the water, he tried to paddle away, but Elise braved the cool waters and plunged in after him, grabbing his tail feathers before he could scoot away.
She chased the swan until she was up to her chest in the water. The swan slipped from her grip then and started to paddle away.
