Flight of the Five Swans

Fear Chapter 8

Cliodne nearly screamed in frustration when, instead of being shown to the throne room, she and her sisters were shoved through the door of her old bedchamber. While she didn't relish facing Lord Soran again, she also suspected that the next time she did, she'd get some answers. It galled her that he would dare make them—her—wait.

The bedchamber door slammed shut behind them. Thaleia launched herself at the heavy wood, yanking at the handle in an attempt to force it open once more. When that didn't work, she tried ramming the door with her shoulder, only to stop after three solid hits.

"Ow," she muttered, rubbing her now-aching limb.

"That won't work, Thaleia." Cliodne said heavily. Her sisters turned to look at her, as though noticing for the first time that she was there. Their eyes widened as they took in every aspect of her appearance. None of them had been given an opportunity to change before being so unceremoniously dumped into the room, and Cliodne was certainly worse for the wear. Her dress—once sunset-orange—was colored green from the pond algae through which she had waded. The bottom half of the fabric was still drenched with pond water, and the material was ripped and torn.

With a sob, Eurielle flew into Cliodne's arms, followed closely by the other princesses. Cliodne's five sisters all clambered to embrace her in their turn. They looked nearly as bad as she did. Their clothes, already dusty from the road, were now splattered with small specks of blood from the battle. Eurielle was barefoot, having been forced to leave her boots behind in the courtyard. Her stockings were ripped and stained to above the ankle.

Petra was the last to embrace Cliodne. When she stepped back, Cliodne saw a determined look in her younger sister's eyes. "You said it wouldn't work to force the door." There was a hint of a question in her statement. Cliodne shook her head in response.

"I've forgotten how many times I've tried, but it's dead bolted from the outside." She sighed, and then jerked her head to the window. "And the windows are barred as well."

"They've been keeping you prisoner this whole time?" Eurielle gasped, but Cliodne shook her head once more.

"No, not at all! It wasn't until..." Her voice broke as memories—terrible memories—flew before her eyes. Her legs seemed to lose all their strength, and she sat down heavily on the four-poster bed.

For a moment, her sisters were at a loss as to what to do. Cliodne was often the strong one, the sturdy one. Never before had they seen her look so haunted. Finally, Callia sat next to her on the bed and placed one hand gently over her sister's.

"What...happened?"

Cliodne looked at her. She choked back a sob. "He...he killed him."

The other sisters glanced at each other, then Thaleia took a guess. "Lord Soran? He killed King Einor?"

Cliodne nodded. Petra knelt down in front of her. "But...why would he do that? He was heir, wasn't he?"

Cliodne shuddered. "I don't know why he did it. He was Einor's heir. He would have been king, anyway! But..." she said, and looked up at her sisters, fear and confusion blatant in her eyes. "But I think it has something to do with us."

Raia stepped back, one hand clutching her throat. "Us? What could he want with us?"

Cliodne shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I don't know!" she cried. "But it was right after...we'd only just..." and her voice broke off.

The grip on her hand tightened slightly, but her sister's voice was still calm when she spoke.

"Tell us everything."