Page 46 of Kingdom of Feathers

Wren nodded slowly. Caleb was right—she remembered perfectly what she’d learned. The magic required to turn six humans into swans for as long as six years was even more potent than what she would have needed to kill them all.

I’m going to keep an eye on the Entolian king.The new voice surprised Wren. She hadn’t noticed Bram coming back, but he’d clearly been listening to Caleb’s words.I’m not ready to just trust him. But I’m also not sure Averett and Conan are thinking clearly. It didn’t seem to me like King Basil was trying to offend you with what he said about that day.

He wasn’t, Wren agreed confidently.He was trying to encourage me—to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault.She sighed.But he doesn’t know the full story.For a moment she fell into melancholy. King Basil was no fool. Once he read that official report, he’d understand exactly why she was to blame, if it was really true that Entolia hadn’t ordered the attack.

Follow him around if you like, she told Bram.But don’t get yourself into any trouble, all right?She glanced toward the lake.I’d better go.I only have fifteen minutes before Ari will be pecking at the window to the records room, bringing down the wrath of the record keeper if I’m not there to cover for him.

Neither of her companions said anything, but in her mind she could almost hear the smiles that would have curved their human faces. Ari might technically be eighteen now, but sometimes he was as impulsive as the twelve-year-old boy who’d bickered with his sister that day in the woods.

Chapter Eleven

Wren’s thoughts were on Ari as she hurried into the castle. Physically, Caleb might be the most vulnerable of her brothers, but she worried more about Ari than any of them. Lyall wasn’t much better—he’d been only fourteen when the curse hit. What would the impact on their development be, to have made the transition from childhood to adulthood while in the body of a bird? They’d certainly matured—impulsive though he might be, Ari didn’t actually behave like a twelve-year-old. But would he ever truly catch up? He’d missed such crucial experiences during the last six years.

She avoided the dining hall, assuming that King Basil was eating there, and not yet ready to face those perceptive eyes again. As hotly as she’d refuted it at the time, Averett’s quip about her mooning over the Entolian king still lingered uncomfortably in her mind. She couldn’t afford to become self-conscious around the foreign king, though, not with so much at stake. Surely if the two of them could communicate even without the assistance of her voice, the two kingdoms could come together for long enough to negotiate an end to the war.

She dismissed her guards with a gesture, and they were only too ready to melt away. It wasn’t normal practice for her to be followed everywhere through her own castle—it was purely a condition of her new role as King Basil’s guide. Without the Entolian’s presence, she was free to dispense with her minders.

Sidetracking through the kitchens, Wren swiped a few pastries from the Chief Under Chef. The bewhiskered redhead winked at her as she bore her spoils out through the servants’ entrance. A man of few words himself, he’d always had a soft spot for the silent princess, and took no issue with her invasions of his territory any time she felt particularly hounded by disappointed expectations.

Still finishing the pastries, she made her way toward the royal records room. Hindered by nothing more than the appraising look of one of the record keeper’s assistants, she wandered through the area containing the public records. At the door to the sealed records, however, the way was barred by an armed guard. Wren raised an expressive eyebrow, and taking in her identity, he quickly stepped aside. She had no doubt her visit would be reported, however.

“Princess Wren!”

Wren’s heart sank at the surprised exclamation. If the record keeper was pottering around the small chamber, she wouldn’t be able to let Ari in. But luck was with her. Just as she inclined her head in acknowledgment of the greeting, the assistant hurried in from the main records room, asking his superior for help with a document that was proving difficult to categorize.

Wasting no time, Wren hurried to the far side of the room, where a small window looked out onto a somewhat overgrown corner of the castle’s sprawling gardens. Next to the window was a bookcase containing many bound volumes, each with the name of a monarch. Her fingers slid over the one marked King Lloyd III, settling on the rolled up bundle of parchments next to it.

She pulled out the notes on Caleb’s life up until the curse, prepared by some organized scribe in advance of the day when Caleb would be the monarch, and require a record of his own life. The project had been abandoned six years before, although the record keeper clearly didn’t have the heart to throw the notes out. Wren smiled to herself as she slid the ribbon off and unrolled the wad of papers. Once completed, the future King Caleb’s record would probably be the most sensational volume on this bookshelf.

Nestled in between the various papers were Wren’s own notes, where neither her nosy governess nor the gossiping maids would ever “accidentally” see them while tidying up Wren’s suite. Even with that precaution, Wren had never been willing to put the full truth to paper, afraid even that would offend the magic of the curse. Most of her scribblings didn’t relate to the day her brothers had been turned into swans, but rather to her own research into enchantments.

Sighing, she cast her eyes over the section labeled “counterforce”. Not much encouragement to be found there. She’d established to her own satisfaction—or rather dissatisfaction—years before that since the enchantress had built in a counterforce to the curse, there was no other way to break it. The consequences of Wren’s slip had demonstrated undeniably that the enchantress had managed to mold the natural counterforce to her magic into a defined and binding remedy to the enchantment’s intention. In short, Wren had no choice but to honor the madwoman’s demand for six years of silence.

You said I couldn’t possibly do it, Wren thought fiercely, as she stared down at the enchantress’s name in her own notes.But you were wrong. In two months, you will have failed, and we’ll all be free.

An insistent tap at the window drew her eyes. She hurried to the casement, laying her papers down on the small table pushed up against the wall just in front of the window. Unlatching the lock, she slid the window upward so that Ari could climb in. He did so a little awkwardly, the space barely large enough for him. It was a good thing he was the smallest member of the bevy.

Here you go, she told him, pressing the side of her hand against his webbed foot where he stood on the table.You wanted to look over the notes on enchantments?

Ari nodded his head eagerly, causing his long neck to fold in strange ways. Hiding a smile, Wren spread the papers out so that Ari could see multiple entries at once, then made her way to a nearby shelf.

This one was covered not with properly bound volumes, but with wads of paper tied together with simple ribbon, allowing new pages to be added with ease. She found what she was looking for quickly. The rustle of feathers and the padding of webbed feet warned her of Ari’s approach, and she hurried back to the table before he could wreak havoc in his attempt to flap over to her in an enclosed space.

Dropping the papers onto the surface so that Ari could lean in for a look as well, she rifled through them, making sure everything she wanted was there. The record keeper kept well organized accounts, she had to give him that.

So you’re going to show these to the Entolian king?Ari asked, extending his wing enough to rest it on her shoulder. He sounded neither angry like Conan had done, nor hopeful like Caleb. It didn’t surprise Wren that Ari seemed not to have a strong opinion regarding King Basil. Politics had never been of any more interest to him than it had been to her. Back when she had the luxury of not caring about such things, that was.

That’s my plan,she said lightly.Find anything of interest in my notes on enchantments?

Ari’s avian form deflated slightly.No.

Is it so hard to wait two more months?Wren asked, trying to keep the hint of laughter from her mental voice.After almost six years, it doesn’t seem long.

It’s not, Ari acknowledged.I don’t really mind the waiting that much. But it’s always worth checking—you never know when something new will occur to you.His voice dropped to a mutter in Wren’s mind.And I’m sick of Conan saying I don’t have a sensible thought in my head.

Wren couldn’t help grinning at this revelation of Ari’s true reason for wanting another crack at her notes. No doubt he had visions of heroically breaking the curse and impressing all five of his brothers. Privately, Wren thought that this close to the six years, they would be annoyed more than anything to discover that there was an alternative solution none of them had identified before now. But she didn’t say as much.

Don’t mind Conan, she said instead.He’s been sour with everyone since his old sweetheart and her husband had their baby.She sighed.I can’t help feeling a little sorry for him.

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