Page 62 of Kingdom of Feathers

When Basil arrived in the dining hall the next morning, he took one look at Wren’s empty seat, and turned back toward the door. He refused to be dismayed—it wasn’t unusual for the princess to skip breakfast. But he had no interest in a solitary meal, and he determined to go looking for her himself, whether or not her parents would like it. He hadn’t missed the hardness in King Lloyd’s eyes every time he looked at Basil during the previous night’s dinner, or the suspicious glances being thrown at his delegation by Mistran nobles and servants alike. The rumor that Princess Wren’s fall had been no accident had clearly spread through the castle with predictable speed.

It was equally clear that Basil’s own people were on edge. No accusation had been made against him, and he’d issued no new orders to his guards, but two of them trailed him as he made his way through the castle. It irked him, but he made no attempt to send them away. He knew they were only trying to protect him, and with suspicions running high, perhaps it was wise to have witnesses around when he ran Wren to ground at last.

Not bold enough to seek the princess at her rooms—wherever they even were—he made his way instead to the gardens, hoping she was up and about and simply disinterested in breakfast.

To his mingled delight and annoyance, he spotted her as soon as the pond came into view. She was sitting on her usual bench, the lame swan cuddled up beside her. He hastened toward her, calling a greeting.

“Wren! You’re still alive, it seems.”

He regretted his flippant words as he rounded the large bush between him and her location, and realized she wasn’t alone. Not only were two guards standing behind her bench, glaring suspiciously at him, but a young woman with honey colored hair was seated on her other side, turned slightly toward the princess. At Basil’s arrival, she stood hastily, curtsying.

“I beg your pardon,” he said pleasantly. “I’ve interrupted.”

“Not at all, Your Majesty,” she said politely, curiosity in her eyes as she cast a surreptitious look over him. “I was just on my way to breakfast.”

“No need to leave on my account,” said Basil, and she smiled.

“I’m expected.” Her voice was a little strained, and Basil noticed that Wren’s expression had become troubled as she watched the other woman. She scratched a message on her slate, and tapped her companion’s arm.

The young woman looked down at the words, and gave another strained smile. “I would like that, Your Highness.” She gave an unconvincing laugh. “I’m afraid I need all the counsel I can get.”

Basil barely glanced at the other woman as she took her leave, inclining his head vaguely. His focus was on Wren’s face, intrigued by its expression. She was looking at her departing friend with distress in her eyes.

At least, he assumed the other woman was Wren’s friend, since she’d been writing on her slate. He’d noticed that the princess was sparing in who she used the tool with. It had certainly made her uncomfortable to use it in front of Lord Baldwin, but Basil had seen no sign of embarrassment on her face as she scribbled a message for this woman.

“Who was that?” he asked amicably, seating himself beside Wren without waiting for an invitation.

She didn’t answer immediately, and Basil took a moment to glance at the slate still sitting beside her. It held a curious collection of messages.

What do you think of Sir Gelding?

What’s your father’s hurry?

You arenotold.

And finally, the last message, that Basil had seen her write after his arrival.

We can talk more later.

It seemed he really had interrupted something. He pictured Wren’s expression as she’d showed her last message to her companion. Her eyes had seemed to plead with the other woman not to do anything hasty, and glancing over the messages gave Basil a fair idea of what she’d meant.

“Is Sir Gelding courting her? That enchanter who was suspicious of me because I brought an enchantress with me from Tola?”

Wren started at his question, pulling her eyes from her retreating friend and looking rapidly between Basil and the slate. Glaring pointedly at him, she snatched it up and scrubbed it clean.

“Sorry,” he said, nothing particularly repentant about his grin. “It’s rude of me to eavesdrop, I know. But I’ve always been bad-mannered.”

Wren rolled her eyes, the smile tugging at her lips telling him she wasn’t really offended. She dashed out a few words onto her now empty slate.

That’s Lady Anneliese, a friend, and yes, Sir Gelding is courting her.

“He seems too old,” Basil commented, picturing the streaks of silver in the enchanter’s hair. “Although he was very polished, and good-looking enough, I suppose.”

Wren’s hastily suppressed snort of laughter made him throw another grin her way, but her expression sobered quickly.

I agree that he’s too old.

She hesitated, then added another sentence.

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