Flight of the Five Swans
Fate Chapter 35

Raia

Raia wasstill knitting when Soran’s guards arrived to fetch her the following morningjust after dawn. Her eyes were blearyfrom lack of sleep, and her fingers were cramped and tired from the franticpace that she had kept throughout the night. She could have kissed Soran for fetching her knitting for her theprevious evening; thanks to him, Raia had been able to knit all through thenight, and now the final shawl was soclose to being done. Three, four morerows at the most.

Raia spareda quick glance up at the door when it was opened from the outside. She could not help a sigh of relief when shesaw that Soran had not accompanied his men to escort her from her room. While she was convinced that Soran wouldrecognize the significance of her knitting and put a stop to her actions, shehighly doubted that any of his men would be aware of what the shawls wereintended for. It provided her with acouple more minutes at least to finally finish what she had started so manyweeks—so many months—before.

Raia madeno argument as she was led from her room. Nor did she openly attempt to stall their progress as they walkedtowards the entrance hall of the Ithcarian palace, where she assumed that Soranwas waiting for them. She was afraidthat, were she to make too big of a scene and delay the group of them throughthe halls, the soldiers might cotton on and rush them all the more. Or Soran himself might get impatient and cometo replace them. Either way, Raia wouldlose what little chance she had to knit the last bit of the final shawl. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on her task,though a sense of panic slowly built in her chest as they neared their finaldestination.

Justthree more rows.

A figure stood waiting in theshadows of the entrance hall. Raia’s heartsank. She positioned her hands in afruitless attempt to cover her knitting, her needles still moving frantically.

Then the figure moved, and she letout her breath in a rush. It was Aydenwaiting for them, not Soran. There wasstill time.

Ayden stepped towards her, and shecould not resist a quick glance at his face. Then her eyes dropped back to her work. The disappointment, the pain,in his expression was nearly too much for her to bear. She knew that their short conversation thenight before had not gone as Ayden had hoped—to say nothing of the entiresituation they found themselves in. Yetstill the visual proof of his disappointment felt almost like a physical blow.

“My motherextends her goodbyes.” He spoke softly,his voice slightly stiff. Raia flinchedat his tone, so unfamiliar to what she was used to hearing in theirinteractions. Perhaps he saw—andunderstood—her reaction, for his voice had lost some of its coldness when henext spoke.

“Sheregrets not being able to wish you farewell in person, but she wants you toknow that you are welcome to write or to visit again should you so desire.”

Raia’seyesight blurred slightly at a sudden onset of tears. She, too, wished that she could bid theIthcarian queen farewell in person, but she knew that Soran’s guards wouldnever hear of making a detour, however short it may be. And as soon as they reached the palacecourtyard, Soran would whisk her—and her swan sisters—back to Deturus. Then he would use them to lure in the finalsister, and drain them all. Any thoughtof escape would be next to impossible.

Unless she finished the shawls.

Two more rows.

Raia noddedsilently at Ayden’s statement, though she did not meet his eyes again. She could almost feel the surprise at herreaction—or lack thereof. Yet he did notspeak a word, merely following behind as the guards propelled her forwardtowards the entryway doors once more.

Raia spareda quick glance up as they exited the castle. Early morning sunshine shown down on the palace yard, which was bustlingwith men sporting Deturian armor—though on second glance, Raia realized thatthere were only ten, twenty men at the most. At least three times that many Ithcarian soldiers stood guard aroundthem, along with King Naaman himself. The Ithcarian royal’s face was lined in a deep frown, as though he weremost displeased with what he was seeing. Raia’s heart lightened slightly at the sight. Though Ithcar was still technicallyconsidered an enemy of her country, Raia knew from firsthand experience thatSoran and his men posed the larger threat to all of them. She was gladthat King Naaman seemed at least partly cognizant of this fact.

Slightlyremoved from the rest of the soldiers were four of Soran’s guards, standingwith arms outstretched in an odd half-circle formation. Raia saw on second glance that they weresurrounding five swans, and attempting to prevent the birds fromscattering. Nearby stood a rather largewooden cage. With a stab of anger, sherealized that the guards were herding her five feathered sisters into the cageto be transported, though the princesses were not making it easy on them. The birds bit and hissed at the guards inanger, trying to duck under their outstretched arms to escape confinement.

Soran stood watching this strangecompany, his hands clasped behind his back. Fear clutched at Raia’s throat as the soldiers escorted her over towhere he was standing. She knitted madlyat the last shawl, frantic tears filling her eyes. Justhalf a row more and that would be it.

Though he was facing away fromthem, Soran seemed to sense the presence of the new arrivals, and knew exactly whohad arrived. The arrogance was evidentin his voice when he spoke, yet Raia realized with no small surprise that hehad chosen to address Ayden first.

“I must thank you, Crown Prince,”he said loftily, “For taking such excellent care of my fiancée and her…menagerie.”

Raia felt Ayden stiffen beside herat Soran’s taunt, for a taunt it most surely was.

“I assure you that the pleasure wasours.” Ayden said, his voice as cold asRaia had ever heard it. “Indeed,Princess Raia may consider herself free to return should ever she desire avisit…or seek refuge.”

Ayden sounded as though he weregritting the words out through his teeth, yet Raia did not glance up to witnesshis expression. She could not spare thetime. Soran had yet to look her way, butRaia still knew that she had only seconds before his gaze would finally turntowards her. Seconds in which to finishknitting, only seconds to break her sisters’ curse.

Justa couple more stitches.

And then her time was up. Raia sensed, rather than saw, Soran begin toturn towards her as he addressed her at last, his voice full of malevolenttriumph.

“Come, my dear, we must be on our—what are you doing?”

Soran’s tone had changed in aninstant to furious comprehension, yet Raia hardly noticed. With one last deft twist of her needle, shetied off the fifth and final shawl.

Done.

Raiareached into her now-bulging pillow pouch and struggled to take out the otherfour shawls that she had completed. Yetas she had suspected, Soran had instantly recognized what Raia’s knitted shawlswere meant to accomplish—and he proved faster than she. At the first sight of her knitting, he hadleapt forward, grasping one firm hand onto her arm in a vice grip, his facecontorted in a snarl. Raia winced at thepain as his fingers dug into her arm; she knew that the force would likelyleave her with bruises the following day. She gritted her teeth and yanked away from him with all of her strength,fighting to free her arm from his grasp. She bit at her lips to refrain herself from letting out an angry cry atthe persistence of his grip.

“Hey!” Ayden cried for her, shock and indignationfilling his voice at Soran’s seemingly sudden roughness. He started forward to pull Soran away fromher, but the Deturian guards moved to block his path. Meanwhile, their outburst was slowly drawingthe gaze of the other people milling around the palace yard, including King Naaman,his men…and the soldiers guarding Raia’s five swans sisters.

Sensing theguards’ distraction, the five swans made their move, squawking and flappingtheir wings violently to break free of their forced confinement. While four of the swans targeted the mensurrounding them, Thaleia—dear, protective Thaleia—launched herself directly atthe struggling figures of Soran and Raia. There was pure murder in the deep black eyes of the bird as she streakedpast the guards, her gaze fixed on her targeted enemy. And though Thaleia was thrown back as soon asshe had connected with Soran’s ever-present protective bubble, her attack hadnot been in vain. For a second—just a split second—Soran wasdistracted.

That second was all Raia needed.

Yanking herarm free from Soran’s grasp, Raia reached deep into her pouch and pulled outthe shawls of nettle yarn, knitted so painstakingly over the last severalmonths. She did not take the time toseparate the shawls from each other, but merely flung them high into the airover where her sisters stood, praying that each bunch of fabric would replace itsmark.

Raia’s eyes followed the flutteringfabrics as they slowly descended over her swan sisters. The swans froze in place, seemingly sensingthe import of the moment. Only Thaleiaremained in motion, battering herself against Soran’s invisible shield a secondtime, then a third. Raia’s heart caughtin her throat, and her hands rose to cover her mouth, holding back a desperatecry.

Theshawl, Thaleia, the shawl!

As though she had heard Raia’sunspoken plea, Thaleia dove again, not at Soran, but rather towards the fifthand final shawl as it fell. She slippedunder the woven fabric.

All noise seemed as though it hadbeen suddenly stricken from the world. Then Raia’s skirts swirled around her as a rushing wind filled thecourtyard. The wind was followed by aluminous golden light, as though sunset and sunrise had collided at that verymoment. All those in the courtyard criedout and shut their eyes against the brilliance of the flash, throwing theirarms over their faces to block the glare.

And then as suddenly as it hadappeared, the light had gone.

Those standing in the courtyarduncovered their eyes and glanced around once more. They let out silent exclamations of surprise. Five extra people stood exactly where thefive swans had been previously. All wereyoung women, their ages ranging from late teens to early twenties. They were all thin and gaunt, dressed intattered rags of the highest quality material. They wobbled where they stood, their feet bare and dirty. The Ithcarian royalty and their guards gapedat the new arrivals, astounded by the suddenness of their appearance.

And then the utter silence wasbroken by Raia’s own voice. Weak andcroaked from lack of use, her voice grew stronger with every word as shepointed at Soran and yelled her accusations.

“Sorcerer! Kidnapper! Murderer! Murderer!”