The Swan Maiden Read Free Page A

calculated both to embarrass Doucette and infuriate their mother, who loathed sorcery and unseemliness in equal measure. Since Azelais would be gone when the spell was discovered, Doucette alone would suffer Lady Sarpine’s rebukes.
    â€œAzelais, please,” Doucette said miserably. “I’m sorry you were offended.”
    â€œNo, no.” A smug Azelais waved away Doucette’s apology. “If you’re not going to act like a comte’s daughter, no one should mistake you for one.”
    Cecilia shook her golden head. “I disagree. Dressed that way, she’ll bring ridicule to the Aigleron name. No, I think our Doucette needs to remember exactly who she is.” Blue eyes shone with sly humor as Cecilia slid her wand from her sleeve and tapped Doucette’s head.
    This time, Doucette’s skin warmed as the spell flowed over her. A rush of magic whisked away the ragged garment and replaced it with a gown so fine that Doucette’s relief changed to alarm.
    Silvery green ribbons trimmed the lavender velvet, which fell away from her shoulders in soft, smoky folds. Then, so softly that she almost missed the translation, the wooden clogs Azelais had bestowed melted into delicate silken slippers. Doucette hardly dared move. The fabric felt so cobweb-fine that a deep breath might tear it.
    Ceilica laughed at Doucette’s expression. “Isn’t that better?” she teased. “You’ll think twice before mucking about in this gown.”
    â€œIt’s beautiful, Cecilia, but—”
    â€œWhy bother, when she’ll drag it through the sheep pens?” Azelais sniffed. “You might have saved yourself the trouble.”
    â€œNo trouble,” Cecilia said. She rolled her shoulders, shaking out the coat of white feathers so that it gleamed in the morning light. “Some of us have magic to spare.”
    Azelais’s black swan-skin fluffed with outrage. “What are you insinuating?”
    â€œWhy, nothing.” Cecilia was all blond innocence. “Of course, you must arrive in suitable style, Doucette, though I’d rather not delay our journey to deliver you.” She produced a white square of linen and stroked it with her wand. “Take a corner.”
    Trapped inside her glorious dress, Doucette stared at the handkerchief Cecilia had tucked into her free hand. “How much will this hurt?”
    â€œTcha. One would think you didn’t trust me.” Cecilia winked at Anfos, who had been following the spell-casting with wide eyes and a wider mouth. “Boy, this side is for you. Hold tight!”
    â€œYes, Lady Cecilia!” Agile as a cricket despite the cheese on his back and the sack of bread tucked under his arm, Anfos reached for the cloth’s far corner. Once he took hold, the white square stretched between him and Doucette until it was large as a bed sheet.
    Cecilia gestured with her wand. Wind filled the white cloth, making it billow like a sail. Her mare snorted at the flapping cloth, and Cecilia patted the bay’s neck in reassurance. “Don’t fret, chère. We’ll be off in a moment.”
    â€œYet another waste of magic,” Azelais said sourly.
    â€œClose as the poor thing will get to wings,” Cecilia said, and urged her mount down the hill. “Good-bye!”
    â€œHelp!” Doucette cried out in alarm.
    The giant-sized handkerchief stuck to her fingers, carrying her along as the sail belled out and lifted into the air.
    The ground dropped away.
    â€œWe’re flying!” Anfos shouted. “Lady Cecilia Animated us!”
    Doucette’s stomach lurched in protest. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, hoping it would settle. This violent swooping was nothing like she had imagined the many times she had seen Azelais and Cecilia strip off their gowns and put on their magical swan skins. She had always held her breath as the Transformation swept over them, wondering how it felt