Page 17 of Kingdom of Feathers

Wren didn’t know whether to smile or roll her eyes. What in the world her brother thought he could do to help her in his current form, she couldn’t imagine.

Before she could say as much, the door opened, and several men walked in. Wren didn’t miss the momentary wince that crossed her father’s face before the king smoothed out his expression. Her father’s discomfort over Wren’s interaction with her bevy of swans always escalated to true embarrassment when others were present to witness it.

“Your Majesty,” said one of the courtiers, in a pained voice. His emotions took no skill to read. “Should we really have waterfowlinsidethe castle?”

Chapter Three

“My Lords,” the king greeted the newcomers with stiff formality. “Thank you for your presence.”

The nobleman who had spoken bowed respectfully, but Wren heard him mutter to his neighbor at the snub the king had delivered by ignoring his question. She paid him no heed. Lord Kinley had always been one of her greatest critics. Her brother, however, ruffled his feathers indignantly.

Puffed up little pond worm, Lyall said, bunching up his long neck so that his head sat almost against his feathered chest.What does he have against waterfowl?

Wren resisted the urge to laugh.Are there worms in your pond?she asked sympathetically.

“It’s an embarrassment.” Lord Kinley had settled into a seat not far from where Wren still stood near the window, and he threw her and the swan-Lyall a disgruntled look as he continued complaining to his companion. “You know they’ve had her thoroughly checked by the top physicians from three kingdoms?Andby Sir Gelding, who’s an enchanter. There’s nothing medically wrong with her, and there’s no curse on her. She could speak if she wanted to. She just chooses not to. And don’t get me started on the swans.”

Wren frowned slightly. Who was Sir Gelding again? Why did the name tickle her memory?

Lyall’s mind was clearly fixated on other things, however, as he flapped his wings aggressively toward the mutterer. With her hand still on his flank, Wren could hear his angry thoughts.

Is he an unmannered boor, or just an imbecile? Doesn’t he realize you’re standing right here and can hear every word he says?

Wren gave a bitter smile.It’s hardly the first time, she informed her brother.Plenty of people seem to think that since I don’t speak, I can’t hear either. You’d be amazed what people say in front of me.

It was often quite useful, actually.

Casting a glance at the offended nobleman, Wren sighed.It’s not that I don’t appreciate the support, Lyall, but I think it will be easier for me if you leave.

With a doleful honk, Lyall nipped her sleeve, then waddled to the edge of the table. Spreading his wings, he flapped his way back through the window, just as two more men walked into the room. Their astonished eyes passed from the bird to the princess, their mouths hanging open.

Wren didn’t recognize them, so she doubted they were part of her father’s court. Unable to easily ask anyone their identity, she cast an eye over their attire, looking for clues as to why they were at the council meeting. One of them clutched a leather binder with a small anvil sketched into one corner. Guild members, she realized suddenly. They were the representatives from the Blacksmiths’ Guild.

The realization triggered her memory—she’d recognized Sir Gelding’s name from the report. He was a baronet from Mistra’s south who had oversight of the Blacksmiths’ Guild. He also happened to be an enchanter. She remembered him only dimly from the early days of the curse. He’d been summoned to the capital to look her over. Wren couldn’t even picture him across the intervening years. All she remembered was feeling embarrassed at his scrutiny.

Closing the window behind Lyall, Wren made her way back to her original seat. King Lloyd sent her an exasperated look, but didn’t publicly call her out on her refusal to take the seat to his right, the one reserved for his heir.

Caleb’s seat.

Nothing would prevail on Wren to sit in Caleb’s place. Half the time she wished someone would understand her subtle communication, and realize that the true heir to Mistra’s throne was still alive to claim his position. The other half, she was afraid that if someone did figure it out from her behavior, it would activate the curse and kill all six of her brothers, one by one.

It was a difficult balance to walk. And with no way to test the limits of the curse without endangering Caleb, she had long ago decided to err on the side of caution.

The king was calling the council to order, and although his voice was even, Wren knew him well enough to read the turmoil beneath. He was embarrassed by the odd behavior of his daughter and supposed heir, and frustrated with her for her continued lack of interest in the training required for a future monarch.

“Well then.” The king turned to the guild members. “What is the view of the guild? Could we mine the ore from underneath the battleground? Perhaps if we concentrate our troops closer to the front line, could we access the deposit from behind them?”

A gray-bearded man in military uniform cleared his throat. Wren’s eyes flicked to him. She’d been surprised to see the general of her father’s army enter the room. He wasn’t often to be found in Myst, spending most of his time at the military base situated near the front lines.

“Your Majesty, I would caution against such an approach,” the general said. “We would risk cutting our fighters off from base, and trapping them on the front line.”

“Thank you, General,” said King Lloyd gravely. “I understand that there are risks, and I would not make such a decision without seeking military advice. I merely wish to know if the Blacksmiths’ Guild considers it possible.”

The general bowed his head in acknowledgment, and everyone turned back to the guild member. The man spread a map over the table, angling it to give the king the best view.

“Your Majesty, our best reports are that the greatest deposits lie in this region.”

The members of the council all leaned forward for a better look. In spite of herself, Wren copied them. She frowned. The ore in question was on the Entolian edge of the disputed territory. Not much hope of getting access to that.

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