The Swan Princess

Chapter 19: Sticky Situation

I returned to the castle gardens a few hours later. By this time, the sun had set, and all the people of the castle — nobility and serfs alike — had gone to sleep. Besides the trickle of water and the nightbirds chirping, the atmosphere is quiet.

Floating here, in my favorite pond — true tranquility. The moon is as full and languid as I am. My eyes drift close. Would be so bad to doze off here. At least, just for a few moments. I would have to return home before I shift. But, that would not be so difficult of a sacrifice to make compared to spending all night in the hard servant's bed.

I shiver; the temperature plummeting several degrees. My eyes fly open. Mist floats up around me, casting an ominous white glow. I try to move, but the mist solidifies, wrapping its tendrils around me as a binding.

A spell.

I wriggle and writhe, and that's when I hear her voice.

"I have just heard of this most magnificent practice from across the pond — Tar and feathering!"

A cruel set of high-pitched laughs follows.

Odile inherited the Rothbart magic, after all.

They emerge from the mist, shrouded, like demons from the pits of hell. Fear climbs up my throat. Odile and her coven of witches emerge, all peering at me with disdain.

They're holding black buckets in their hands — filled with a shrouded, steaming liquid substance.

"When I become queen, I will issue an official edict," she begins, using a shiny black dagger to cut her hand. The rusty copper smell fills the air.

"Annoying pests like you," she makes eye contact, "shall be eliminated at once."

With that, her blood drips into the pond, at the same time her minions throw that black sludge at me.

The haunted goo falls open me, and I am lit on fire.

I shriek, feeling the heat of melted coals burning through me. I hurl my body down, desperate to cool off in the below water, but the mist holds me still in my agony.

"Should we rip out her feathers next?" Odile asks, laughing maniacally.

I'm burning. My vision hazes, my mind screams, and my wet eyes sting. I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm going to die—

A great and shattering crash echoes from the castle behind me.

One moment, I'm suspended in hell.

The next, I'm cradled in solid arms, terrified screams coming from behind me.

"I'm sorry I took so long," Lukas whispers, and holds me closer to his cool metal chest. My body feels limp from the pain. I can barely process that it's him.

Lukas, my savior.

Lukas, my love.

Lukas, the rescuer of helpless animals.

He steps, one by one, towards the edge of the lake. As he does, I can see the blood pooling from the fallen bodies of my attackers. Not only have they been mutilated, but black sludge has been dumped on their faces, shrouding their identities in mystery and tar.

"Just a little longer," Lukas murmurs.

As we pass the last of the bodies, the only one unaffected is Odile. She's covered in ruins, fast asleep, surrounded by a sphere of shrouded mist. She must have used the last of her energy to cast a protective barrier and knocked herself out.

Lukas has to tiptoe around shards of broken glass as we approach the castle entrance. The window broke, jagged fragments sticking out around the edges, as if someone burst through it.

I close my eyes. I'm coming in and out of consciousness.

"Take her," Lukas begs.

"Ouch," Annalise says, cuddling me to her chest. I close my eyes, but still see the warm, red glow behind my eyelids. The heat fades, and the pain dissipates. My eyes stay closed. I'm weary, and want rest.

"Is she... dead?" a panicked voice chokes out. Pain laces the last word.

"No," Annalise responds, handing me over. "She's just tired."

The black spots floating in my eyes take over, and the world fades to black.

***

When I awaken, I'm in new arms.

"The prince will protect you from now on," Annalise says.

I move my head back, and startle at the man holding me.

Prince Siegfried.

His brows are pulled together, his eyes are bloodshot, and, for the first time in my life, he looks... concerned.

I make my weakest, most pitiful, hOnK ever, coughing up black sludge on him. He does not seem to mind, only cradles me closer to his chest. I sputter more gunk on his fine clothing, and he uses his thumb to brush the last of it off my beak.

Who is this man?

In an unfamiliar room, he settles me on a sink.

He hesitates, then twists one of my tar-coated feathers between his hands. I feel a sting of pain, then, witness his remorse when he realizes he's pulled out a feather.

"I hate that I keep hurting you, unintentionally," he murmurs.

He brings a washcloth over my head, placing it on my sensitive, burned neck. I flinch.

"Sorry, sweet bird. It's merely water." He drips some from his fingers onto my head. "Water," he repeats, patting the washcloth down my neck again, and sliding off the goo.

"Such a pretty thing. The closer you stay to this castle, the more horrible things seem to happen to you."

He continues moving the washcloth down my body in soothing motions. I never... I never thought Prince Siegfried would be someone that cared about animals. And the way he's talking to me... he sounds like my mother, talking to my childhood self. So soft and gentle.

Even the way he cleans me is cautious, and slow. He takes his time, making sure every cursed drop comes off.

"How much of your training involved animals?" he calls to his sister.

"Enough to heal most initial damage." She assesses me with a critical eye. "Lift your wings," she commands. I stare back.

Exchanging an incredulous look with her brother, she smooths her hands down my wings herself. The prince continues washing off the goo as Annalise lifts my wings up, checking for any further injuries.

"Not that you understand my speech, waterfowl, but..." Annalise creates orange, warm flames with her hands, bringing them close to help dry me.

"This fool— " she pokes him— "as a child, would start each day with commandeering the forest creatures outside. Afterwards, he would give them all names, and talk to them as if they were friends."

"You sound little different, these days," Sieg interrupts.

"He's always had a soft spot for the little ones," she continues, drying the down beneath my feathers.

"Watch yourself, Anna"

Once I'm warm and dried, she nods.

"She's all right, brother."

"I doubt that," he mutters.

I stand on my feet, shaking out my feathers. In the distance, Annalise has opened a window for me, and the cool breeze reaches my back.

"Are you well?" Prince Siegfried looks into my eyes with a tenderness that brushes my soul.

I cannot thank him, not in this form, but I brush his chest with a feather when I pivot and fly away.