Page 15 of Kingdom of Feathers

Why do you even still have a governess?Caleb demanded, brushing his good wing against Wren’s leg so she could hear his words.You’re almost eighteen. I’d moved beyond my tutor’s training years before that.

Yes, because you were already a very satisfactory crown prince, Wren responded, trying not to let the bitterness creep into her thoughts.I’m so far behind the level of training required from an heir, no one quite knows what to do with me.

You’re more than capable of filling the role of Mistra’s heir, Wren.Caleb’s voice was a perfect blend of sternness and encouragement, and Wren could picture the slight crease that would appear between his brows if he was wearing his own face.

Whatever that face would look like, now he’d aged six years.

You just need to have confidence in yourself, and stop being afraid to put yourself forward.

Wren scowled. Put herself forward? Yes, right into Caleb’s place.I won’t usurp your position, Caleb,she projected.Not even temporarily.

She stepped away from her brother’s feathery form, to cut off any further protests he might try to make. The governess was still waiting for Wren to obey her command, one arm wrapped around her own narrow torso in an expression of clear discomfort as she watched her eccentric charge fraternizing with a flock of waterfowl.

“Well, come inside then, Your Highness,” she repeated at last, beckoning imperiously.

With a frown, Wren gestured at her half finished knitting project. The older woman made a disapproving noise.

“It’s not good for the birds to domesticate them so, Princess Wren. And it’s certainly not good for you. Swans aren’t supposed to wear clothes.”

Scowling, Wren pulled out her slate and scribbled a message. She thrust it into her governess’s face this time, demanding to be heard.

Have you felt the temperature?

“They should have migrated for the winter, like the rest of their kind,” said the older woman. “You’ve made them too tame, that’s why they’ve stayed with you. To their detriment as well as yours,” she added, her eyes lingering distastefully on Caleb’s damaged wing, and Averett’s admittedly ridiculous knitted garment. “Now come.”

Scrubbing her slate clean, Wren scribbled again.

I still have time before the council meeting.

“I already told you,” huffed her governess, after reluctantly reading the words. “Their Majesties are waiting for you now.”

Wren blinked. Her parents had summoned her? Perhaps she should have been listening after all. Stowing her slate back in its pocket, she stepped between her avian brothers to collect her knitting.

The boys waddled after her as she followed her governess toward the castle. The garden in which her brothers lived formed an enormous central courtyard, around which the four main wings of the castle marched. Their pond—almost big enough to be considered a small lake—sat in the middle of the garden, and teemed with fish and bird life. Even before it had become her brothers’ sanctuary, Wren had always loved stepping from the solid stone corridors of Myst’s castle into the tranquil beauty of the gardens, with their splashes of color, tantalizing fragrances, and gentle bird calls.

Now, she spent as much time there as she could get away with. Caleb never left the gardens, and Wren would have preferred the rest of her brothers to remain safely there as well. But, given the inconvenient fact that they had wings, she couldn’t exactly stop them from exploring further. And if she was honest, she couldn’t blame them for wanting a change in scenery. The gardens, while lovely, were a small kingdom for six grown princes to occupy every minute of every day.

Most of the swans slowed as they approached the open double doors, but Ari, Lyall, and Bram waddled forward confidently. The fact that the birds were always rebuffed didn’t stop Wren’s brothers from routinely trying to gain entry to the castle to accompany her about her daily activities. She understood it to be a show of support for her, and she appreciated it.

When the guards at the door opening from the gardens into the castle fended the three swans off with the shafts of their spears—gently, as no one would dare to actually injure the princess’s pet swans—Wren sent her brothers a casual wave. She couldn’t help grinning at the sight of Averett. He looked none too pleased to have been left with the jacket on.

“Making clothes for her feathered dolls again?”

Wren kept her expression blank, not even bothering to look around to identify who had made the sniggering remark. She knew most of the court thought she’d lost her mind years ago, and it wasn’t as though she could correct them. It wasn’t news to Wren that her determination to knit jackets for her swans was considered one of her most embarrassing eccentricities.

Her governess was right, of course—all the true swans had left many weeks ago, to spend the colder months elsewhere on the continent of Solstice. But Wren would never have allowed her brothers to leave, even if they wanted to, which of course they didn’t. She shuddered to think how anxious she would be if all six of her brothers had been far away somewhere, where she couldn’t take care of them, make sure they weren’t shot by hunters, or brought down by foul weather.

It had been stressful enough two years before when she’d been forced to travel into Albury in a completely futile attempt to explore an alliance with the then-cursed crown prince. Wren couldn’t have said what was more painful, the battle it had taken to be allowed to take Caleb—whom she would have been terrified to leave alone and vulnerable—or the worry she felt regarding the other five, whohadbeen left behind.

She’d been grateful that rumor had proven wrong, and the missing prince hadn’t yet been found. They said his marriage had softened him, but at the time Prince—now King—Justin had been known as a hard, cold man. She shuddered to imagine what he would have thought of her, traveling with a half-lame swan all but attached to her side.

Wren’s steps slowed as they approached the council chamber. She really had no idea why her father forced her to attend these meetings.

Actually, that wasn’t true. She knew exactly why he forced her to attend, and it made her more determined than ever not to take part. When they reached the door, Wren’s governess held out her hands imperiously, and Wren gladly surrendered her knitting. The council already thought her enough of a fool without her bringing a hobby to the meetings.

To her surprise, however, there was no gathered council when she entered the room. Only her parents, with ominously identical expressions of determination on their faces. Wren’s heart sank. This couldn’t be good.

“Wren,” said Queen Liana, her voice full of a warmth that didn’t fool her daughter. “Sit down.”

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