The Wild Swans (Timeless Fairy Tales #2)

King Torgen narrowed his beady eyes at the soldier and slurped his wine.

The soldier kept his expression plain; his manner did not betray his lie.

He probably had practice.

King Torgen shrugged and returned his attention to Elise. “Although my soldiers might be incompetent bird catchers, at least they managed to find you. Sit. We must chat.”

One of the soldiers pulled out a chair from the banquet table, placing it close enough that King Torgen could speak to Elise in a plain voice but far enough that Elise could not reach the table.

Elise wondered if the soldier did this on purpose to keep her out of strangling reach as she sat down and the guard set her knitting materials on the ground next to her.

“At ease,” King Torgen said to the guards. “Return to your posts.”

The guards moved to the corners of the room, standing at attention.

King Torgen watched them go before he turned his rotten eyes on Elise. “You are disturbing my son.”

Elise folded her hands on her lap.

“He used to be an empty-headed fool, wandering about like an idiot and blithely doing whatever he wished. Now he talks of loyalty and love, and despairs that none of our subjects love us with passion and perseverance. He was useful as a fool. But now he thinks about people’s feelings. I cannot believe it took him so many months to gather enough selfishness to go fishing. He hardly is at home in the late summer. Because of you, he’s been kicking up his heels, talking to people, giving servants the day off,” King Torgen tossed his chicken leg aside in disgust. “I intended to let him be an idiot until I no longer felt like ruling, and then I would break him to make him a suitable king to rule a place as forsaken and wretched as Verglas. But I cannot let him head down the path of nobility. What use are loyalty, respect, and honor? None! So I must cleanse him of these stupid notions you have given him.”

King Torgen looked to Elise, as if he expected a reply.

It took every ounce of Elise’s courage to stare King Torgen down. She was sweaty and her heart thundered as loud as ever, but Mikk would have been proud of the emotionless expression Elise gave the twisted ruler.

King Torgen picked up the chicken leg again. “I shall have you executed,” he said in the same conversational tone a person would discuss the weather in.

Elise’s chin quivered for a moment before she snapped down on the reaction and tilted her head back.

“Yes, I must,” King Torgen said, as if imagining her contrary claims. “This new sickness of his is most certainly acquired from you. I suppose I could exile you, but I’ve always loved a good killing.”

Elise clenched her hands together, making them tingle with pain as she stared at the monster hiding in a man’s skin.

“I cannot have you hanged of course, and I cannot give you a trial. Everyone knows you’re harmless and quite wretched. But there is one thing I can accuse you of that will remove all those pesky barriers,” he said. “This is your own fault. Someone should have taught you as a child that good doesn’t always triumph. In fact, it rarely does. Loyalty and love are for the fools in this world,” King Torgen said, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m not sorry you’re going to die. I quite look forward to it, actually. It’s so fun to crush the weak and the innocent,” King Torgen said. “Now, pick up your sack and show me what is inside.”

Numbly, Elise did what she was told.

“Ah-hah! I thought so. Guards, arrest this girl! She is a witch, and must be put to death,” King Torgen said, leaping to his feet.

The guards approached Elise.

“What proof is there, My Kin—,” one guard asked.

“You want proof? Look in her bags and see the foul, dark magic she knits,” King Torgen said.

“It is cowls made of nettles,” a soldier said.

Shirts, Elise internally corrected him, her mind blank as she listened.

“Only one devoted to dark arts would use such a loathsome plant. Who knows what foul end she would use them for? Besides, I can smell black magic miles away, and it is plain to me that she not only possesses it, but she loves it. Arrest her! Shackle her and throw her into the dungeons.”

One guard collected up Elise’s knitting materials; another clasped heavy iron shackles around her wrists.

Elise caught a glimpse of King Torgen’s smirk. He won. No, it wasn’t even a matter of winning. Elise never stood a chance.

Elise opened her mouth to shout out her innocence, but she caught sight of the sack of shirts. She was so close. She couldn’t speak now. It would ruin all her work. Elise knew in her heart that Arcainia couldn’t wait the months it would take Elise to knit seven shirts again. Arcainia need the princes now.

Elise shut her mouth and let herself be led away. When the guards led her out of the dining room and shut the door behind them, peals of laughter escaped from the chamber.