Page 11 of Kingdom of Feathers

The four-year-old giggled, but the queen’s voice interrupted this promising conversation.

“If princesses normally had bare feet.” She shot a pained look at Zinnia. “Why aren’t they wearing shoes?”

The oldest princess shrugged. “We were at the beach. These two raced back ahead, because they were determined to show Basil their crowns. I could barely keep up with them. I think the maids are still carrying their shoes back up.”

“We found a real crab, Mama!” Wisteria interjected, her face alight with excitement. “And it nipped Ivy!” She was positively glowing with delight at the pronouncement, and Basil and Zinnia again exchanged glances, grinning appreciatively.

“Itoldher not to put her hand in there,” said Holly, looking faintly distressed at this mention of her twin’s misfortune.

“Never mind Ivy’s self-inflicted mishap,” said Zinnia, pinning her mother with a searching look. “What were you two saying about me? What would I supposedly be all right with? If you’re talking about a political marriage—”

“Oh, enough of that,” said Basil, rolling his eyes. “Let it go—no one is trying to marry you off.”

“You say that now,” Zinnia said darkly. “But I haven’t forgotten, even if you have, that Father tried to arrange my marriage with the Bansfordian prince. And I was only fifteen!”

“No one was suggesting that you marry immediately,” said the queen calmly. “It was just a betrothal discussion.”

“And since both the Bansfordian princes have been married for a year now, I think you’re safe,” said Basil impatiently.

“Yes,” mused Zinnia. “I’m still sore we couldn’t go to the wedding in Bant. I mean, Penny—Princess Penny, I should say—is a friend of ours, after all.”

“We met heronce,” Basil laughed.

“And you know we would have attended if we could have,” the queen cut in. Her quiet words sobered her two oldest children at once, reminding them of how ill their father had been in the lead up to the wedding in question.

A giggle drew Basil’s eyes to the trail of sand leading under one of the council tables, where Holly and Wisteria had disappeared, presumably to compare rival merits of their flower crowns. He remembered a time when he and Zinnia had been as carefree as that. Back when there was no war, when his father hadn’t been constantly at death’s door. The child of those memories felt like an entirely different Basil, one who lived in an almost-forgotten world.

“Well,” said Zinnia roundly, returning his mind to the conversation, “Bansford might have no unmarried princes left, but I know for afactthat Father has been corresponding with the Fernedellian king. And even if Prince Amell wasn’t as foolhardy as he is irritating, I’d never leave this,” she gestured out the window at the rocky stretch of shore that sat just below the council room, “for the only kingdom in Solstice that doesn’t even have a coastline!”

“No one is talking about a political marriage between you and Prince Amell,” said the queen patiently.

Basil gave a snort which made his mother sigh and his young sisters poke their heads out from under the table with another giggle. “Fernedell is not going to ally themselves with a kingdom at war,” he said. “All you overheard was me saying you’d be all right as the future monarch if I got myself killed.”

The theatrical gasps from the two small children were nothing to the horror on Zinnia’s face. “Bas, you wouldn’t!” she cried. “You couldn’t be so beastly as to get yourself killed! I don’t want to be queen!”

Basil grinned at her. “You wouldn’t have a choice. Maybe you’d best come on my dangerous quest with me, so if it comes to it, we both get killed. Lilac can inherit the throne.”

“Basil,” said the queen sharply.

Basil raised his hands in surrender. “I’m joking. Of course I wouldn’t do anything to put any of my sisters in danger.” He glanced at Wisteria’s and Holly’s wide eyes, and tried to make his voice reassuring. “And I’m not really going on a dangerous quest.”

“No,” agreed his mother tartly. “You most certainly are not.”

“Because it wouldn’t be that dangerous,” Basil explained.

“Because,” corrected the queen, “you’re not going anywhere.”

“We’ll see,” muttered the prince mutinously. His mother’s reaction wasn’t promising, but that didn’t mean he was ready to give up. King Thorn might be as stubborn as a cantankerous goat, but Basil was his father’s son through and through. He would wear him down if it took a month.

* * *

As it turned out, Basil didn’t have the opportunity to wear his father down, and King Thorn didn’t have a month. The prince hadn’t yet raised the matter of his projected trip when he found himself walking down the corridor with Zinnia, two days later. Their conversation ceased abruptly at the accustomed sight of the castle’s physician bustling past, led by an anxious-looking maid.

The familiar sick dread settled in Basil’s stomach. He and Zinnia came to a halt, exchanging tense glances. The weather had turned, and sunlight was filtering in through windows that now revealed gently lapping waves instead of the storm-lashed beach of a week before.

“Winter’s almost passed,” said Zinnia tightly. “Surely he can’t have caught anything too nasty.” But she spoke without conviction. They both knew that, as their mother had said, King Thorn was never really out of danger. Winter was often the worst time for the infirm king, but infections could run through the castle at any time, and try as they might to be cautious, the king was almost certain to catch them.

They made no attempt to follow the physician, knowing how their father disliked fuss. But for the rest of the afternoon, Basil held himself tensely, hardly taking in his little sisters’ chatter. He didn’t need the message delivered by a frightened-looking page to know that the council he was to attend that afternoon was postponed. The whole castle always held its breath when the king was ill, and the level of hush that pervaded the halls—not to mention his mother’s continued absence—told Basil that this time it was serious.

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