Page 65 of Kingdom of Feathers

Basil didn’t hesitate. Still barely in control of his own reactions, he strode from the garden, his mind whirling with all kinds of chaos. What in dragon’s flame had just happened?

Once again, he found himself pacing his room, and when Lord Baldwin came to speak with him, he sent him away without even a pretense at politeness.

Something unnatural had happened in that garden, and Basil had no idea what. The most obvious explanation was that Wren truly had lost her mind, as everyone had long suspected. But he couldn’t believe it. And it wasn’t just Wren’s behavior—he was equally overwhelmed and perplexed by his own emotions. He could still feel the pressure of her frantic hands on his chest. What kind of a fool wanted to kiss a girl who’d just attacked him?

But remembering Wren’s utter panic, he found he bore no anger for her charge. It had clearly been as unreasoning and instinctive as his own reaction when he seized her wrists and pulled her against him. It was the memory of the terror in her dark, speaking eyes that wreaked havoc on his mind. What secret burden was she carrying? What disaster had he unleashed? Because whatever she was afraid of, he’d clearly had a hand in it. It was the only explanation for her instinct to turn on him. Being her ally had become such a central part of his life. He couldn’t stand the idea of becoming her enemy again.

After the previous day’s experience, he fully expected Wren to hide herself away once more. He was therefore stunned when, a mere hour after the incident, she sought him out. Assuming at first that the curt knock on his door was one of his own people, he barked out permission to enter in a less than welcoming tone.

The door didn’t open, however.

“Princess Wren wishes to speak with you, Your Majesty,” called a gruff and unfamiliar voice.

Basil threw the door wide to see Wren standing several paces back into the corridor, flanked once again by her guards. She couldn’t quite meet his eye, but she had clearly come prepared, because she handed him not her slate, but a parchment covered in her now familiar writing.

I wish to apologize, and to ask what will seem a strange favor.

Favor? Basil looked up at Wren, but her eyes remained on her slippers. Rapidly, he read the rest of the short letter.

I know my behavior must have seemed very strange. I’m extremely sorry that I struck you, and I know I have no right to ask anything of you. Nevertheless, I must ask you to put the matter from your mind, and try not to think about it at all.

Basil’s eyes flew back to Wren’s face, noting that she looked close to tears. He took a step out into the corridor, and her guards drew slightly closer to their charge. Basil threw them a wry look before focusing all his attention on the princess before him.

“I find it difficult not to think about you, Princess Wren,” he said softly, hardly knowing what made him say the words.

She looked up at last, her face flooding with color. Seeing her confusion, he smiled reassuringly and lifted her letter.

“But I will do my best to comply. It’s not a strange request at all. I’m not hurt, so you don’t need to apologize for anything. And I can certainly understand you wishing to put the incident in the past.”

She nodded gratefully, although Basil couldn’t help but notice that the lines of anxiety remained on her face. With a graceful curtsy, she turned and hurried away down the corridor, her guards trailing behind her.

Basil looked from her retreating form to the letter in his hand. Her request was a near impossible one. If anything, he now had more questions than ever.

Chapter Seventeen

The next fortnight passed interminably for Wren. Now that the end of the curse was so close she could no longer count it in months, she should have felt on the verge of victory. Instead, she was more terrified of its power than she had been since the early days.

Less than a month left, and this had to happen now? Why did the maddening, perceptive, uncomfortably honest, inconveniently attractive Entolian king have to come to Myst now, and overset everything she’d been working for?

Even after two weeks, she could still feel the suffocating, stomach-churning panic rising every time she thought about that moment by the pond. When she’d seen Caleb collapse, she’d lost her wits completely, convinced that he was at last dying before her eyes, with her other brothers soon to follow. The remembered panic was always followed by a hot rush of shame at what she’d done in response. She hadn’t even been aware of deciding to lunge at Basil like that. Robbed, as always, of her voice, her body had simply expressed her desperation for Basil to stop what he was doing in the most immediate way it could find.

What must he think of her?

She knew what had happened. Basil had started to figure it out. It was the only explanation for Caleb’s sudden deterioration. She supposed she had her answer to the question of whether someone else figuring out her brothers’ identity would be enough to activate the curse. She’d almost been able to see the dots beginning to connect in Basil’s mind, but the dominant expression on his face had still been confusion. She just had to hope that meant he hadn’t actually put the pieces together.

Was her cryptic request of Basil going to work? If he thought too hard, figured it out fully, would Caleb die?

She had thought, after her own slip ups back at the beginning of the curse, that one more blow would be enough to kill Caleb. She could only be profoundly grateful she’d been wrong. But still, it was hard to keep the tears back every time she watched Caleb floating on the pond, moving in slow circles as he paddled with the one good foot left to him. He could no longer get out of the water and waddle without pain, and he was more helpless and vulnerable than ever.

They’d been so close.

So close to reaching six years without further incident.

She walked around now in a constant state of fear, so terrified to communicate anything that she felt she was truly becoming the spineless, timid, damaged princess her kingdom had long believed her to be.

And the worst of it was, even in the midst of such a crisis, she couldn’t seem to keep her thoughts from things they had no business dwelling on. The strength of Basil’s hands as he gripped her wrists, unyielding enough to restrain her mad attack, but gentle enough not to hurt her. His warm breath on her face as he held her against him, staring searchingly into her eyes, his own gaze straying to her lips almost as if he was about to…

She pulled her thoughts from that quagmire with a snap, a shudder running over her at her own weakness.

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