The Serpent and the Swan
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The Serpent and the Swan
A broken girl sent to her death
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-A 2021 Foreword Indies Book of the Year Award Winner-
-A 2021 IAN Book of the Year Awards Finalist-
Cygna is the king’s fairy get, born with a swan wing in place of an arm. Something monstrous to hide away. But when a monster from the Underworld appears, they’re all too happy to sacrifice her life for theirs.
Cygna has been kept under the shadow of secrecy for two decades. Not only is she the King’s illegitimate firstborn, she’s also an extraordinary half-fae with a wing in place of an arm who instills fear and suspicion in those close to her.
But now a terrifying evil is ravaging the kingdom. A Lindworm is making a path straight for the castle, and the King and Queen believe Cygna has the power to stop the serpent. Except Cygna knows what her hateful stepmother really wants is to keep Cygna from inheriting the throne.
They send Cygna on a dangerous journey to the underworld where she meets others like her. She begins to see she’s not the unnatural creature she was brought up to believe. But will Cygna have the bravery to confront the terrifying serpent and defeat her darkest fears? Her freedom and life will depend on it.
Other Titles In The ‘Serpent and Swan’ Series
Excerpt
The private war between king and queen had turned their attention from the ongoing problems of the kingdom. The pestilence that sickened livestock and withered crops sprawled to the borders, turning the country into a wasteland. No export to make them rich; no stores to see them through winter. The once proud kingdom now had to rely on the generosity of its allies to feed its population, though the royal banquet tables never felt the lack. Neighboring kingdoms worried the corruption would spread to their own territory, but the wasteland held firm at the borders and encroached no further.
Two decades from the first sign of the blight, a creature from the Otherworld appeared at the wasteland’s edge: a giant serpent which wound its body around barrows and struck at passing travelers. The Lindworm, they called it, and its rage and hunger was matched only by that of the ruling monarchs. Every night it moved further into the kingdom, its trajectory fixed on the capital. Queen Gyda sent soldiers and knights against it, but steel glanced off its scales and its wounds healed with a speed that was nothing short of unnatural. It struck through armies and generals and left nothing but bent armor behind.
The Lindworm’s imminent arrival at the castle and King Torvald’s lack of action was not the only trouble on the queen’s mind. Soon Cygna would be twenty and come of age to rule, and the king made no pretenses in his intention to abdicate his throne once his heir could take legal responsibility. What troubled Gyda was that he never declared which of his daughters that heir would be. In the eyes of his subjects, Aila was the only option. But the existence of a firstborn, never declared illegitimate, was the kingdom’s worst-kept secret. Gyda did not know Cygna’s mind; the girl might actually believe she had some claim, and she had the right to ask a boon upon her coming of age. What doting father could deny such a demand?
It was not entirely the ascent of such an unnatural creature to the throne that troubled the queen. It was true that a half-fairy ruler would be a sign to allies and enemies alike that the rot withering their country had eaten to the heart of the throne itself, and evil ruled. The already dissatisfied peasantry would see her as no different. Cygna was an untested and weak girl-child who could command no one’s respect. Which conflict would swallow them first, civil war or crusade? But she feared far more personal repercussions to Cygna’s ascent to power. There was no love between them, and both the queen and Aila could expose Cygna’s secret. That made them a liability. With the young ruler newly crowned, the mother and her daughter would be superfluous. To Gyda’s mind, it was a matter of her own survival to see that Aila was declared the true heir, and Cygna removed. If she could influence who came to power, she could influence her own fate.
When King Torvald’s advisers predicted the Lindworm’s arrival in the capital to be within the week, and the king turned from the problem yet again, Gyda took her opportunity.
“You can’t leave every issue in the hands of your privy council,” she said on the eve of Cygna’s birthday. “You must act. The people need to see you act. What good are you if you won’t fulfill the most basic function of a king?”
“They tell me steel does nothing against it. And you have burned all the witches who might have helped us. What action is there left for me to take? Leave me alone, woman. I will be taking my supper with Cygna.”
“There are alternatives to steel, if you will only listen.”
“I am exhausted of this responsibility. Tell my advisers.”
“The Lindworm is a creature of the Otherworld you are so fond of.”
“I cannot see how. You have seen to the destruction of every gateway left in our kingdom.”
“Which means it must have found some other bridge. A connection between its world and ours.”
“Then have it destroyed. Good night.”
“The bridge is Cygna.”
The king stopped in his retreat.
“She is a creature of two worlds that you were irresponsible enough to make, and to let live,” Gyda pressed. “It is she who links our worlds together. Why else would it come now, when you are poised to place her on your throne? It has come to either champion her or take her back, and it will devour us as it does.”
Torvald sank against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I should take it on faith that her death would save us? I would trust you, and you would pour poison in my ear and cause me to kill my only joy.”
Gyda laid a tender hand on her husband’s arm. “I have never felt for her as you do; I cannot deny that. It is my resentment toward you that has always led me to tell you the truth, for I know how much it hurts you. For that I am sorry. Once your advisers understand the link between Cygna and the Lindworm, they will have you kill her. But I beg you now, stay your hand. Spare your daughter’s life. There is nothing to be gained in destroying her. We can save her, and in turn she will save us.”
“How? How do I save her from them?”
“The Lindworm is not the only monster that threatens us. Our allies threaten to withhold aid if we do not send soldiers for their wars. Our enemies send spies into our court to probe our weaknesses and discover the truth behind rumors of a demon daughter. And there is talk of a people’s revolt against the crown. What good is a child monarch against all that—whichever daughter you choose to succeed you? I know you intend to name Cygna, but she has no claim as she is. She is a stranger. A broken little princesses no one will follow. But a queen of fearsome fae blood, one who championed your people against her own kind . . . that would command respect. And if you intend to proceed in your folly, sending her to confront the Lindworm is your only option.”
“I will not risk her, not by sending her to face the Lindworm and not by exposing her nature. The result would be no different than if I wielded the headsman’s axe myself.”
“Her nature is our greatest weapon. If she succeeds, she will have proved herself worthy of your throne and win the hearts of the court. Allies and enemies will fear and respect us. What threat of civil war can there be with a creature such as her to keep insurgents in their place?”
“She doesn’t have your ruthlessness.”
“Of course she does. She is one of the Fair Folk. You may not see it, but she has preserved herself this long despite the many people within these walls who wish her ill.”
“No. She will stay here with me. My advisers will think of something. It’s their duty.”
“If you do not send Cygna away to face it, it will come here and there will be nothing left of us. Not finger nor feather. Do not trap her here, as you have trapped me for more than twenty years, to become a withered husk of the woman she once was, or might have been. Let her discover the world for herself and seek the lands she came from. Whatever curse you have bought upon us, let her be the instrument by which you save us.”
It was midnight when King Torvald relented, and Cygna was awake when he unlocked her door. She took the news of her imminent departure solemnly, and listened as he explained and made excuses for himself and laid blame on the queen over and over. She believed him when he told her she would return home unscathed. She believed him when he said he would ensure she would be sufficiently prepared.
Despite the initial flare of fear and anger, she did not protest. She had never questioned her father’s wishes, and through the habit of years it did not occur to her to do so now.
Her birthday was spent not in celebration of her coming of age but in preparation. She was dressed in her usual fashion and presented to her father’s privy council in formal declaration, both as his daughter and as their potential savior. Priests of every order arrived at the cathedral to anoint her. For Cygna, it only served to hasten the hour of her departure.
In late evening Cygna escaped to her rooms for solitude and her own preparations. As she laid out her least uncomfortable dress, she heard a key in the door. She hoped it would be her governess come to help dress her and not another priest with his blessing. She was only in her shift and had no armor between herself and prying eyes.
She waited for the door to open, but once the lock clicked there was only a hesitant knock. Cygna faltered; no one who visited ever bothered to knock.
“Come in?” That was something she’d heard her father say, surely.
The door opened enough to admit a slim figure. Even without her ball-room mask, Cygna recognized the princess by her royal dress and the way she moved; Cygna had spent a lot of time watching her sister from the Court’s shadowed corners.
Whatever Aila was about to say was strangled out as her eyes drifted to Cygna’s wing, naked and unbound. Six years had passed since she tore away at it and the feathers regrown, and it shimmered with the shifting light from the fire, a faint rainbow sheen moving over snow-white feathers. She immediately looked away again, red-cheeked, eyes darting to Cygna’s face, other arm, chemise, across the room to her writing desk with its pots of multi-colored inks, at the laid-out gown, everywhere but at that curious appendage. Her stare was vacant, her attention focused to the side and toward what she desperately wanted a good look at. She started to form words a few times, but clearly could not think of anything to say that was not about the wing.
“How did you get the key?” Cygna asked.
Aila glanced at her hands. “I had a copy made years ago but never had the courage to use it.”
“Come to see if it’s all true?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have disturbed you.” Aila turned to the door.
“I’d like you to stay.”
Far from the calming effect Cygna had hoped her invitation would give, the girl turned pale and trembled.
“Are you . . . Do plan to eat me?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“When I was a girl, Mother told me you ate your wet nurse. And the stories say your kind—”
“No. I don’t intend to eat you. I depart in a few hours and I do hate to leave a meal to waste. Besides, I’d rather not get blood on my feathers.” There was no response but a suspicious look. “How am I supposed to have eaten a whole wet nurse? A babe with no strength and no teeth?”
Aila relaxed, arms dropping to her sides. “I always wondered that too. But Mother said it with such conviction that I questioned my own doubts.”
“You believe everything she tells you?”
“And do you believe everything our father tells you?”
In the silence following, Cygna realized that it had never occurred to her to disbelieve him. He was her father. Kind and protective. “He said never trust anyone,” Cygna said, “even you. That if I was caught, I’d be burned. Or disfigured because my deformity would upset people. Is that why you’re here?” She stretched out her wing. “To take this away?”
Aila held out her empty hands. “I left my axe in my quarters.” She indicated the dress. “Do you want help with that? A lady can’t dress herself, wing or no.” Aila flushed red again at her boldness in mentioning what she had previously been determined to ignore.
“My governess is coming to help.”
“I waylaid her so I could come here. Sorry.”
“Then I’d appreciate the help. Tie it loosely, please. I’m not sure I’ll have help again when I need it.”
Aila picked up the pieces of the gown and they worked together, Cygna showing her how to bind her wing in a soft swath before covering it with the shift.
“It looks painful,” Aila said.
“It’s not comfortable.”
“If you come back, I’ll sneak my dressmaker in to you. She’ll make you something better suited.”
“Thank you, but I would be afraid to wear anything else. And what do you mean, ‘if I come back?’ Father promised I would be perfectly safe.”
Aila knelt with the skirt and let Cygna steady herself on her sister’s shoulder as she stepped in.
“No one but Father expects you to survive,” Aila said as she tied the last laces at the back of the bodice. “Mother only convinced him because she’s sure you’ll never come back. He wants you to be queen after him, and he thinks sending you off to your death will help people accept you. I hope he’s right.”
“You’re not hoping for the throne?”
“I will be a queen,” Aila said with startling resolve. “It’s my birthright. But I have no intention of ruling this place which God has forsaken. I intend to marry well and become Queen some place far off from here. Don’t ruin that for me.” She turned Cygna around and inspected her work. Then she pinned her older sister with such a look that she resembled her mother. It made Cygna nervous. “You’re the queen this country deserves. We need you to come back.”
“I’m not sure I should take that as a compliment.”
“It’s meant as one. You seem nice enough, or good enough at seeming so. That will upset people’s expectations. And with a half-fae queen, maybe we’ll regain the respect we once had.”
“Or our neighbors will declare us ungodly and wage a crusade against us. That’s what Father says will happen if I don’t play the part of a demure and, above all, human queen.”
“Our father only cares about you, hunting, and making Mother miserable. He’s not interested in doing what’s best for you and this country—only pretending you’re something else. He seems to think that’s the way to keep you safe. And damn the rest of us.” Aila spoke with a surety that hinted at a resentful acceptance of her lot. It made Cygna deeply ashamed, and she looked away.
“You sound like you want to hate me.”
“I do want to. I have done. When I came up here I was sure I’d slap your pretty face. I hoped once you left, Father would have time for me. But… well.” She signed, and her shoulders slumped. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “It’s easy to hate someone you’ve never met face-to-face, and boast about all the scores you’d like to settle. Even when they told me you didn’t exist, I knew there was some ghost between me and my father. But now I’ve met you I realize I need to settle that score with him. Not you.”
“I’m sorry if he’s neglected you for me.”
Aila opened her mouth to reply and abruptly snapped it shut again. “I should go before I’m caught here. I do hope you come back. It would be nice to get to know you. I think we could have been good at being sisters, had things been different.”
“I’d like that.”
“I’ll leave the door unlocked so you can leave on your own terms. I’ve already seen to the guards.” She opened the door but before she left, she looked back over her shoulder. “Happy birthday.”
With Aila gone, the room was empty but not safe. It had been Cygna’s sanctuary for twenty years but now it felt violated, as much the domain of her father as it was hers. She did not want to see him or suffer his abrupt and forceful entrance into her private world. She needed solitude. Her own secret key was still hidden in the music box on her bedside table, just where she had left it six years before. She might need it later. The old gray cloak that used to hide her was dusty and moth-eaten, but still serviceable. She looked like a servant under it, and that made her nigh invisible.
Thirty minutes of slinking through shadows later, and she was out through one of the castle’s service entrances and into the town. Another half-hour past that and she was running toward the line of denuded trees that marked the edge of the King’s Wood. She would come back for her final preparations, but for the moment she needed the solitude and comfort of her mother’s glade.
Featured Reviews
Pym has delivered something true to the heritage of fairy tales yet original and true to itself. In a world full of 1000 page overwrought epic fantasy “rock operas” this is the equivalent of two-minutes of punk brilliance.
PaganDad, Amazon Reviewer
Pym executes a difficult challenge here perfectly, delivering an engaging and evocative tale in a hugely enjoyable read.
Jason L., Goodreads Reviewer
This book has everything you could want in a fairytale. It is both beautiful and hard to read in its cruelty.
Kaitlin H., Amazon Reviewer
Awards
- IAN’s Book of the Year Awards Finalist – 2022 – Novella Category
- Foreword Indies Book of the Year Award Finalist – 2022 – Fantasy Category
(Final placement announced in June)
Content Warnings
- Mild gore
- Allusions to sex
- Psychological abuse from parental figures
- Self harm
- Bearded Fae King