Page 104 of Kingdom of Feathers

“Are you ready?”

Wren turned at the sound of the familiar voice, her face lighting with a smile as she nodded. She’d be even more ready if it was tomorrow, and they were finally getting married. But she didn’t complain. After a year of waiting, she could manage one more day. And the conference Basil had organized was important as well.

She took Basil’s offered arm, a thrill going through her at the warmth of his skin on hers. In the three weeks since her arrival, she’d been enjoying the more casual fashion in the seaside capital. When Basil had been in Myst, he’d made more effort than she’d realized to adhere to their customs. It was something of a shock to see him in the short sleeved tunics favored by Entolian nobles, with laces at the front that were rarely pulled tight, so that she could actually see some of the skin of his chest.

A very pleasant shock, that was.

Princess Zinnia had personally assisted Wren in ordering her wardrobe, and her own gown had short sleeves as well. Not even sleeves, really. Just thick bands across her shoulders. The weather was getting warm, but windows stood open all along the corridor, providing a stunning view of the sea crashing against the cliffs below, and letting in the fresh salt air.

Wren was very well satisfied with her new home, and even more satisfied with the soon-to-be-husband whose hand squeezed hers where it rested on his arm.

When they entered the small meeting room where Basil had asked the others to gather, it was clear they were the last to arrive. The five men already in the room rose politely to their feet, and the five women inclined their heads respectfully to their host. There were only the ten of them, twelve now that Wren and Basil had entered. No servants were in attendance, and no guards were posted within the room. Basil had wanted to keep the matter private.

Some of Basil’s advisors had caught wind of the planned meeting, just the day before. Over the last year, most of them had come to respect, if not fully appreciate, their king’s preferred methods, and had made no attempt to interfere. A few, however, were still determined to be difficult, clearly believing they could mold him to be more like his father—or more like their view of a satisfactory king—if they pushed hard enough. Accordingly, they had tried their utmost to convince Basil to include them in the conference.

Satisfaction spread through Wren at the memory of that interaction. Having heard about the lack of support and respect these particular nobles had shown their young king—recounted in more detail by Zinnia than by Basil himself—it had brought her great satisfaction to hear her betrothed’s calm response. He had told the outraged lords that since the results of his efforts in Myst had proven their advice in the matter of negotiating a ceasefire with Mistra to be egregiously—one might even say dangerously—incompetent, he would not be requiring their services for liaising with neighboring kingdoms on this occasion. He’d then informed them amicably that with time and faithful service, they may yet earn back his trust.

Still smiling at her mental image of the looks on their faces, Wren returned her attention to the meeting before her. Although she knew all of those present by name, only three were genuinely familiar. She sent a quick smile at Zinnia, whom she’d gotten to know well over the past year, then seated herself beside Anneliese and Caleb.

Letting her eyes wander over the distinguished group, Wren tried to read the silent messages she knew were always to be found on any face if you were paying attention. She was encouraged to see no sign of discontent or impatience. Every eye was turned expectantly to Basil, and to all appearances, they had all come ready for genuine discussion.

“Your Majesties, Your Highnesses, thank you all for attending.” In his usual manner, Basil got straight to the point. “We’ve asked you here to speak about magic.”

Wren noticed the golden-haired princess from Bansford exchange a startled look with her husband, but she said nothing. Zinnia, on the other hand, shifted her chair back and gave her brother a long-suffering look.

“Basil,” she said reproachfully. “I’m as curious as everyone else to know why you’ve called this secret council of royals, but our guests have all come for your wedding, remember.”

For a moment Basil blinked at her in confusion, and Zinnia let out small sigh.

“Half of them haven’t even met Wren yet!”

“Oh,” said Basil. “Of course.” He glanced apologetically at Wren, but she shook her head with a smile. Zinnia was right, that the formalities should be observed. But Wren was with Basil—she’d rather get right to the heart of the matter.

“Wren has no need of an introduction to Prince Caleb and Princess Anneliese, of course,” said Basil, inclining his head to the Mistran couple and using their titles for the benefit of others who may not have met them. “Or my sister, Princess Zinnia.” He turned to the couple next to them. “Allow me also to introduce King Justin and Queen Felicity of Albury.”

The pair, who looked to be in their early twenties, nodded in acknowledgment. The dark-haired king—whom Wren privately thought still looked as intimidating as ever, in spite of how his marriage had apparently softened him—contented himself with a polite smile. But his wife leaned forward so that her hair fell over her shoulder in copper waves, cupping one hand to her bulging belly as she examined Wren.

“I’m so glad to meet you, Princess Wren,” she said cheerfully. “We were delighted to receive an invitation to your wedding.”

“We’re delighted you’re here,” said Wren softly, and sincerely. She’d been agog with curiosity to meet the girl who’d tamed the beast. Wren hadn’t forgotten that Lord Kinley had once petitioned her parents to send her to Albury in an attempt to marry her to Justin and form an alliance between the kingdoms.

Her supposed status as heir had been no barrier then, she thought wryly. And yet, when the same idea had been suggested in relation to her and Basil, whom she actually wanted to marry, it had been described as treason. But then, no one in the Mistran court had ever seen clearly when it came to Entolia. At least until Basil came and shook up all their preconceptions about the neighboring kingdom.

“And this is Prince Bentleigh and Crown Princess Azalea of Listernia,” Basil went on, and Wren’s gaze shifted to the next royals. She’d noticed that Prince Bentleigh was chatting cheerfully with Albury’s queen when she and Basil had entered. Evidently they were on good terms. It was heartening, given that Wren remembered a time when the Alburian royals had wanted nothing to do with the rest of the kingdoms.

“Welcome,” said Wren, smiling at Solstice’s only female heir to a crown. Princess Azalea smiled brightly in return, her arm entwined unashamedly with her husband’s, her warm brown skin contrasted strongly against his paler tone. She didn’t seem like someone who’d be as daunted as Wren had once been about becoming queen. Probably because she wasn’t trying to keep multiple older brothers alive by not accidentally revealing their presence.

“Crown Prince Rian and Princess Penny of Bansford,” said Basil. Prince Rian sat next to the Listernian couple, his features clearly showing him to be Prince Bentleigh’s brother. His golden-haired wife beside him was the one who’d had such a visible reaction when Basil mentioned magic.

“And finally,” Basil said, “Crown Prince Amell of Fernedell.”

The young prince gave a cheery wave. “Just me, I’m afraid,” he said brightly. He glanced around the table. “Quite a couple fest, isn’t it?” His grin grew cheeky as his gaze rested on Zinnia. “We should be sitting next to each other, shouldn’t we, Zinnia? Just to even things out.”

“Not in a hundred centuries, Amell,” said Zinnia, without heat. “I don’t think I could handle you, and I’m sure you couldn’t handle me.”

Prince Amell laughed, apparently unfazed. “I said we should sit together. I wasn’t proposing a marriage alliance.”

“For those who haven’t yet had the pleasure,” Basil cut in quickly, clearly seeing that Zinnia was ready to wage battle, “I’m delighted to introduce you to Princess Wren of Mistra, who tomorrow will become Queen Wren of Entolia.” His eyes were warm as they rested on Wren, and a thrill shot through her, all the way down to her toes. Finally, after a year of waiting, tomorrow was the day.

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