Page 1 of Kingdom of Feathers

Prologue

“Wren, do youeverstop talking?”

Wren scowled at her brother’s tone, but gave the question her genuine consideration. “I’m not talking when I sleep,” she produced at last.

“Are you sure?” muttered another brother, Ari, from next to her. Wren’s only answer was to shove him with her shoulder.

“Your Highness,” scolded the middle aged woman walking sedately along behind the princess. “Don’t make me regret giving you leave to accompany your brothers on this expedition.”

“Wealready regret it,” Ari said. “Who wants an eleven-year-oldgirltagging along on a hunt?”

The taunting grin that accompanied his words told Wren he was saying it to rile her up more than anything. He knew that if she retaliated, she would again be reprimanded by her governess. Given he was only twelve himself, he should really have been with his own tutor, but everyone knew the youngest prince had the man wrapped around his finger.

“I don’t see why only princes get to go on hunts and things,” Wren said mutinously. “Why do you all get to run around in the forest while I have to sit inside and embroider?”

Bram, the brother who had complained about her talking, rolled his eyes. At seventeen, he had more restraint than Ari, but hadn’t yet developed the patience of his older two brothers. “It’s not because you’re a girl that we didn’t want you to come, Wren,” he said, shooting her a look. “It’s because you scare off the birds, with your chatter, and your general…” he waved his arm vaguely, “bouncing around.”

Wren was indeed bouncing on the balls of her feet as she followed her six older brothers through the small wood that backed onto their castle. It was such a rare treat to be outside with them instead of inside with her governess, she couldn’t help herself.

“Yeah,” Ari agreed, nodding sagely. “An eleven-year-old is far too young to be on a hunt.”

“You’re only twelve!” Wren protested. “And I’ll be twelve soon.”

“By then I’ll be thirteen,” Ari shot back. But the familiar argument was interrupted by yet another brother.

“Enough.” Averett, the second-oldest prince, sounded impatient. “You’re both far too young to be on a hunt, and the fact that you think this is a real hunt shows it. As if any quarry would still be hanging around with all the racket you’re making. Father just wanted us all out of the castle while he spoke to the envoy from Entolia, so he had Caleb suggest a hunt.”

“Averett.”

Caleb didn’t raise his voice, but everyone fell instantly silent. He’d always had a commanding presence, for as long as Wren could remember. Perhaps it was because he was the oldest, and the heir. Perhaps it was also that, at the age of twenty-one, he was far past any childish rivalries with his younger siblings.

Whatever it was, Wren had always considered Caleb to be just about the most incredible person in the world. Her heart swelled as he sent a swift frown toward Bram and Ari.

“Leave Wren alone, you two. She has as much right to be here as any of us.” His voice turned dry as he glanced at Averett. “And if it’s not arealhunt, then I see no reason why she can’t talk as much as she wants.”

Averett shrugged, clearly unrepentant. “I didn’t complain about her talking.”

Bram—the initial complainer—rolled his eyes for a second time. But Wren didn’t care about his scolding now, any more than she cared about Averett’s habitual brashness. Caleb had taken her part, and that was all that mattered. When the crown prince flashed a small smile toward his sister, Wren abandoned her place at the back of the group beside Ari, and tripped forward to her oldest brother’s side.

“Hey Magpie,” he said, in his quiet, friendly way.

She gave him the lightest of shoves at the nickname, but she wasn’t really annoyed. It was apt, after all. She did tend to chatter.

Averett gave her a long-suffering look, but Caleb shook his head at his brother.

“She can walk with us, Rett, don’t be so sour. She won’t carry tales.” He followed the words with the hint of a wink in Wren’s direction.

Elated, Wren slipped her hand into Caleb’s, almost jogging to keep up with his long, steady strides. Ten years older than her, Caleb had treated her with kindness from her earliest memory. And now that he was fully grown, he was an even more awe-inspiring figure.

Eager to show herself worthy of this trust, Wren fell silent, more than happy just to listen to her two oldest brothers’ conversation.

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to be part of the discussion with the Entolian envoy,” Averett said, his gaze sharp as it rested on Caleb. “If tensions over this border issue are as serious as I thought, I would have expected you to want a say in the negotiations.”

“They’re more serious,” said Caleb curtly, and Wren saw Averett raise an eyebrow. “There was a skirmish yesterday.”

“What, actual fighting?” Averett demanded. “Soldiers shed blood?”

“There were no deaths,” Caleb said, his voice grim. “But there was fighting.”

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