I run through the woods, weaving my way between the trees until I reach the dappled sunlight of a clearing. The water in front of me ripples out from the centre, though there’s not a breath of wind. Without pausing, I dive headfirst into the cool, fresh pool.

Down, down I swim, scattering shoals of tiny fish who rush to hide in the tall reeds on the edges of the pool. Deeper, until I can run my hand across the smooth rock, following the current to that hidden place from which the water rises. Only when my lungs pound and burn do I return to the surface and let the hot sun bathe my face.

I dive again and again, relishing the resistance of the water, the slight drag of my shirt and the acid in my muscles. Pulling my arms back, I tear at the water, channelling the anger that threatens to burn me up out through my arms to dissipate in the pool. When the sun finally dips behind the trees, I float on my back, exhausted, and stare up at the darkening sky.

A flicker of movement in the trees’ shadow makes me start. It resolves itself into the figure of a man.

“Enjoy your swim?”

“Rafe! You scared me.” I pull myself out of the water and make a show of squeezing the water from my shirt and braid to hide my annoyance. “How long have you been there?”

He limps closer and gives me a cheeky smile that twists the long scar on his left cheek into a crescent moon. “Only a few minutes. I went to the house, but your parents said you’d run off earlier this afternoon.” He raises an eyebrow.

I sigh, knowing that he knows that something is wrong. I would not have abandoned my work at the farm otherwise.

“Not my parents, as it turns out.”

His look of puzzled concern causes tears to well up in my eyes again. Closing the distance between us, he wraps me in his arms and I bury my face in the crook of his neck. He smells of sweat and dirt and metal. A long day’s work.

I try and explain what happened, but sobs rack my body and my words come out in a confused jumble. He doesn’t say anything, just listens and strokes my hair in that special way he has of soothing me. Ever since we were little, Rafe has been my confidant. My only friend, and recently, something more.

The thought makes me smile and I pull away briefly to wipe my eyes. My breath catches in my throat, but I manage to choke back the rising sob and calm myself down.

Rafe tugs at my arm and we sink down at the base of a large maple tree. The large boot that raises his club foot — a birth defect — to the same height as his left foot stretches out awkwardly in front of him. I loosen my hair, letting it hang in waves down my back to dry.

“I almost forgot, I got my summons today,” I say gloomily. “Selection Day is next week. One more ritual humiliation.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Just imagine Senora Rodriguez’s face.” He sticks his elbows out and puffs up his chest in imitation of our old teacher. “Girls, lift your chins up and roll your shoulders back!”

I can’t help but laugh, his impression is so good, even rolling his Rs just like Mrs Rodriguez, who insists on being called Senora as she thinks it makes her sound more exotic.

Rafe grins. “That’s better. You’re so beautiful when you smile. Hey, hey now, don’t let it drop,” he says, frowning as the smile falls from my lips at his mention of the “b” word. His breath dances over my lips as he leans toward me and kisses me gently. “That’s better.”

Warmth fills my chest. The calluses on Rafe’s hands caress the rough skin of my cheek. They’re the hands of a worker, of a person who has suffered burns from the solder, cuts from sharp knives and whose skin grows thick to protect the hands underneath.

“Your marks are fading, Jane.”

His voice is soft, but it jerks me upright like a shot. “What do you mean?”

I search his face for some hidden meaning but his eyes are clouded and dark and reveal nothing.

He gently strokes my forehead with his thumb. “Your birthmarks are fading. I could swear they’re half as dark as last month. And your skin is so much smoother than last week. Have you got some new cream for it?”

I shake my head silently, reaching my hand up to my cheek. It feels as pockmarked as ever to me.

“Really, I’m not teasing.”

It’s as if he can read my mind. But I know Rafe would not be that cruel. Is the medicine finally working?

“Anyway, you know what else happens next week? It’s your birthday!” Rafe’s voice is light, but there’s a quiver in it and the smile on his face isn’t reflected in his eyes. He’s fiddling with something in his fingers like he does when he’s worried.

“Eighteen. If it wasn’t for the Selection Day I’d be looking forward to it.” I sigh. “I don’t see why I should have to go anyway. It’s not like I even want to be a Swan.”

“You’re about the only girl who doesn’t, then.” He gives a short laugh.

“Yet another reason why I’m different.”

“Well, you wouldn’t want to be the same as everyone else, would you? That’s what I love about you. You’re your own person.”

My breath catches in my throat. “You love me?” The words have never been said between us, though I’ve known it for years. Known that he loves me as much as I love him. It’s there in every touch, every gentle caress, each butterfly kiss. In the way we know what each other is thinking, in the teasing laughter of our words and the comfortable silence in between them. But it has never been voiced until now.

“Of course, I do.” His voice is oddly shy as he looks down at his hands, his fingers twisting, turning. Then he holds something up in front of me. Woven grasses forming the shape of a ring. It glows gold in a shaft of late-afternoon light that breaks through the tree canopy.

There’s a flutter in my stomach and my heart feels as if it’s about to burst out of my chest. “Do you mean …?”

A crooked smile lights up his face. “One day. When you’re a bit older.”

“But I’m eighteen next week!” I try and sound petulant, but I can’t stop the corners of my lips twitching upward. “And you’re only twenty — not that much older!”

“And in two years, I’ll be twenty-two and have finished my apprenticeship. Then I will make you a beautiful ring and ask you properly. Besides, what would I do if a Swan whisked you away next week?” He presses the back of his hand to his forehead theatrically. “My fiancée, gone! But for now, this can be a token of my love.”

The grass band fits my finger perfectly. “For all of about a week until it falls apart,” I tease.

“Then I will make you a new one. Every week for the next two years.” He stands and holds out his hands. “Come on, Jane, it’s time to go home.”

* * *

We part at the top of the hill where the road divides. Rafe kisses me lightly and walks off in the direction of the village. He limps slightly, the heavy boot still not quite giving him the extra height needed to match his other leg. Not that it’s ever stopped him. He may not be able to run fast, but he can climb a tree better than any other lad in the village.

The road back to the farm is little more than a winding gravel track lined by hawthorn trees. I wander down it, the lightness in my heart fading as unanswered questions cloud my mind. My parents’ betrayal weighs heavily on me. Just thinking about it makes my pulse race and an angry heat burns in my belly as I round the bend towards the large clearing where the goats graze.

But today, there are no goats. Instead, a sleek white pod with an unmistakable design stands in the clearing. Crafted in imitation of a bird that became extinct fifty years ago, a narrow neck curved into an ’S’ marks the front of the pod. Behind it, the body of the transporter is oval, hidden by the two wings that fold back on themselves when the aircraft is on the ground. Unlike most pods, it’s designed to be as beautiful as it is functional. And it is used only by the Swans.

I stop abruptly, stepping back into the shade of the hawthorn trees to hide from the tall, slim figure who stands poised in the centre of the clearing. But it’s too late. She turns toward me and I find myself captured in her gaze, unable to look away. Pure white hair falls like a sheet down her back and her kohl-rimmed eyes are the sparkling blue of sunlight on water.

“Come here, girl.”

My feet obey the command before my brain has a chance to register it. I drop my head, letting my dark hair hide my face. My cheeks burn, and for a fleeting second, I have an overwhelming urge to run. But my feet are rooted to the dirt in front of her. I hug my chest, suddenly conscious of my dusty, sweat-stained clothes.

“Look at me.”

Resolutely, I stare at the floor. Selection Day isn’t until next week. Why make me go through this twice? A cold finger lifts my chin and the scent of rose petals smothers me. Looking up, I catch the disgust in her eyes as she catches sight of my face, but it’s quickly replaced by a cool smile. Unlike Rafe, the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“J-Jane. Jane Anas.” I swallow hard.

“And how old are you, Jane?” Her voice is softer now but still cool.

“I-I’ll be eighteen next week.”

“Your Selection Day?”

“Also next week. On Thursday.”

“I see.” There’s a thoughtful look on her face as she tilts my head from side to side.

What’s with all the questions?

“Tell me, Jane, have you ever taken a pill called Glutathaline?”

I stare at her in surprise. “Yes. I have to take it every day.”

There’s a flash of anger in her eyes and she drops her finger from my chin. Immediately, heat rises to my cheeks.

“Stop taking the pills, Jane. They are not what you think.”

“W-what do you mean?”

The woman takes a step closer until our faces are almost touching. How can she stand to be so close to me?

“Just promise me you will stop taking them.”

Her hands close around my wrists. There’s an expression of concern on her face and something else that I can’t interpret. Her grip tightens and her blue eyes bore into me. “Promise me.”

I can’t look away. I’m like a mouse caught in an adder’s gaze. “Y-yes,” I whisper.

“Good.” She releases my arms and steps back.

There’s a shout from the pod and a slight hum as it starts up.

“I look forward to seeing you next week, Jane. Remember what I said about the pills.” She turns and glides back toward the pod, disappearing inside. The door closes and the pod rises and hovers for a moment before shooting off in the direction of the city.

I walk back to the farm in silence, the lightness inside me gone. Ignoring my mother’s call, I go straight to my room and lift the packet of pills from my dresser. They look so innocuous. They are not what you think. What did she mean?

I hesitate for a moment, then drop the packet into the bin. It’s not as if I feel ill anyway.