Page 2 of Kingdom of Feathers

“Entolia is ready to go to war over a few leagues of land?” Averett said incredulously.

Caleb shot his brother a look. “A few leagues with more iron than the rest of our two kingdoms put together. They’re probably shaking their heads, asking whether Mistra is really ready to go to war over a few leagues of land.”

“But it’s on our side of the border!” Averett insisted.

Caleb sighed. “Well, that depends on who you ask, doesn’t it? That border has been in dispute for a hundred years. Did we really expect them to cede our claim just when iron ore has been discovered there?”

Averett fell silent, frowning. “Surely we won’t actually go to war over this.” He cast his brother a look full of meaning. “Will we?”

Wren felt a flicker of surprise at the alarm in her usually over-confident brother’s voice. What did Averett have to worry about? She knew, in a vague way, that war was bad. But nothing bad was going to happen to Mistra. Caleb wouldn’t allow it. He was the strongest and bravest person she knew. It was impossible not to feel safe with him looking after things.

“No one wants it to come to that,” Caleb assured Averett, his calm voice reinforcing Wren’s confidence. “That’s why Father wanted today’s discussions to be as non-threatening as possible. It will just be him and the chief advisor meeting with the envoy.”

“Your Highness.” Unnoticed by Wren, the castle’s head huntsman had come up on Averett’s other side. He spoke in a hushed voice, and the two princes fell silent. “I’ve been scouting ahead, and there’s a bevy of swans at the lake.”

Bram appeared behind them, the next brother down—Conan—at his side. “Excellent. Maybe we’ll get some sport this morning after all.”

“Oh, don’t shoot the swans,” protested Wren, forgetting her intention to remain admirably silent. “They’re so beautiful—I love them!”

“Do you, girly?”

The cackle made them all start. Caleb, Averett, Bram, and Conan all reached instinctively for the hilts of their swords, and Wren understood why. The aged woman who emerged from the trees up ahead looked neither strong nor skilled. Yet there was something sinister about her. Wren could only be glad when Caleb pushed her behind him.

“Who are you?” demanded Mistra’s crown prince. “How do you come to be in the castle woods?”

But the old woman ignored him. Her eyes remained on Wren, and she was still cackling, as though the princess’s defense of the swans had been especially humorous. “Don’t worry, girl, your brothers won’t be able to kill the swans once I’ve killed them first. Not that you’ll be alive to appreciate it, either. They’ll never find so much as a piece of any of you when I’m done.”

Her words acted like a trigger. The scream let loose by Wren’s governess was lost in the scuffle, as the various guards and huntsmen in their group sprang into action. Caleb’s sword was out of its sheath before Wren could blink, but he hung back, allowing his guards to do their job.

Only they couldn’t. Their sudden activity just made the old woman cackle more loudly. Not one of the guards had reached her when she raised her hands and shrieked something inaudible. At once, everyone dropped like stones, with the exception of the seven royal siblings. Wren screamed, sure for a horrible moment that her governess, and all the others in their group, were dead.

But as she stared, eyes wide and horrified, at the closest felled guard, she saw the man’s chest rising and falling. She didn’t know what kind of magic could incapacitate a dozen people all at once, but there was no doubt left in her mind that this woman was an enchantress.

All the magic-users Wren had so far met had been as well-intentioned as they were impressive, usually attending the castle to perform a service for the crown. Never before had she seen magic used for evil, and she felt paralyzed with terror as the realization of her own powerlessness washed over her. Caleb raised his sword, and a measure of security returned to Wren’s panicked mind. Her eldest brother would protect her. He would protect all of them.

“How dare you?” Caleb demanded, and authority seemed to radiate from him.

But apparently, the enchantress didn’t feel it. Laughing in his face, she lifted her hands before her.

“Your father thought he could toss me aside, but I’ll have the last laugh.” Her eyes slid to Wren, still cowering behind Caleb. The old woman’s gaze was unfocused, and she looked thoroughly mad. “Time to save your swans, girl.” And she thrust out a hand toward Caleb.

The crown prince took a half step forward, then fell to his knees with a cry of pain. Wren heard the shocked, angry shouts of her five other brothers, but she couldn’t pull her eyes from Caleb. The sight of her strong, steady brother in a posture of defeat sent fire racing through her veins. With a scream of horror, she threw herself forward, draping her small body over his strong frame. Her hair, fanning around her in the usual frizzy mane that was the despair of her maids, hid the enchantress from her sight, but she could feel the woman’s magic. It reached into every inch of her body, pain flowing with it, and a scream was ripped from her throat.

“Wren, no!”

Caleb’s yell was accompanied by a gesture Wren could make no sense of. Her hand was seized, and she felt something small and hard slipped over her finger. Her mind was too consumed by fear to grasp what Caleb was doing, but at once the pain stopped. She found herself on her knees, coughing and gagging as feeling returned to her limbs.

A grunt of pain brought her head snapping up, and she stared with horror at the sight of all six of her brothers writhing on the ground.

“Stop!” she screamed, stumbling to her feet and throwing herself at the enchantress. “Stop!”

The woman faltered for a moment, her eyes confused as she took in Wren’s clearly unaffected form. “No matter,” she hissed, spit flying from her mouth. “You’ll have your turn in a minute.” She turned back to the princes, letting out a guttural grunt that showed just how much energy she was pouring into her curse.

With a scream, Wren flew at her, scrabbling desperately at the woman’s upraised hands. The enchantress let out an ear-splitting shriek.

“Don’t interfere, swan-girl!”

Wren had no magic in her blood, and therefore couldn’t sense power the way an enchantress could. But even she could feel the force that burst out from the woman, throwing Wren backward and washing over the still-writhing princes. Facedown on the ground, Wren lifted her head from the dirt, terrified of what she would see. But instead of lifeless forms, her eyes fell on a sight more bizarre than anything she’d ever imagined.

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