Page 21 of Kingdom of Feathers

“Your Majesty,” the general said, clearly trying to speak delicately. “Are you sure you don’t wish to capitalize on this situation?”

“It’s all very well to speak of negotiating with the new king,” Lord Kinley agreed, “but we’d be foolish to assume he’ll be reasonable. We all know King Thorn was an enraged old battle-ax, and he will have filled his son’s head with his hatred of Mistra. The prince will probably take up the cause with even more fervor in light of his father’s early death.”

Wren frowned, once again clearing her slate to scratch a new message.

Haven’t our intelligence reports consistently suggested that the prince is difficult to lead, and not inclined to blindly follow his father’s decisions?

The conversation had long since moved on around her by the time she finished, but her father looked over her shoulder at her words.

“An excellent point,” he said briskly.

Everyone in the vicinity leaned forward to read what she’d written, then stared up at her in evident surprise. Wren wanted to roll her eyes. She’d attended every council for the last two years. Did they really think she never read the reports?

Her father gave her a nod before turning back to the council. “There is much to discuss. We will need to carefully consider our approach to the border conflict in light of this new, younger king.”

A strange glow in her chest, Wren sank into her chair and let the conversation flow around her. She was more than satisfied with the result of her intervention, and had no desire to contribute to the heated discussions that followed.

It wasn’t until the council had ended that she realized the seat into which she’d so unthinkingly settled was directly to her father’s right.

Chapter Four

Basil stood in front of the marble tomb, feet planted firmly against the wind, and arms clasped behind his back. Beyond the simply designed structure, the ground fell sharply away, and he could hear the waves pounding against the base of the cliff, far below.

In accordance with tradition, no one stood beside the new king as he watched the tomb being sealed on the final resting place of his predecessor.

The new king. Basil had thought he was prepared for this moment for many years, but it was still hard to take in. He could hear his mother’s quiet sobs behind him, but he didn’t turn. Zinnia would be supporting the queen, he knew. Basil’s eyes drifted out over the ocean. The stretch of cliff faced southwest, and away and to the right the sun was descending below the waterline, in a glorious display of color.

The sun was setting on King Thorn’s reign. At dawn, Basil would be crowned in a simple ceremony, and the sun would rise on a new king.

Basil sighed. Symbolism had never been of much interest to him. Once again catching the sound of his mother’s grief, he wondered fleetingly if he was heartless to be so little affected by his father’s funeral. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. There was certainly a heaviness weighing on him every time he thought of his father. But his thoughts were much more consumed with the duties he’d inherited, particularly the war with Mistra. That was a mess, no question. And it had fallen to him to sort it out, as he’d always known it would.

The golden disc slipped fully below the horizon, and the clear call of conch shells sounded from all around him. Basil could hear the crowd beginning to disperse, but still he didn’t turn, keeping his eyes on the horizon. He suspected his father would have preferred more ceremony, but Basil liked the simplicity of Entolian rites.

His father would probably have been pleased to see the half dozen dragons who circled low to watch the funeral procession. Basil hadn’t recognized any of them, so he wasn’t surprised they hadn’t stopped to speak. But it would have been unusual to hold a ceremony as momentous as a monarch’s burial without at least a few dragons coming by for a curious look.

“Bas.” His sister’s voice made him turn at last.

Basil smiled tightly down at Zinnia. “You’re allowed to approach my royal person, you know.”

Zinnia, who’d stopped a good three feet away, returned the smile, although her face was pale. “I was being respectful for the sake of the crowd. You’re not one of us anymore, you know.”

Basil sighed softly. He did know it, and the thought brought him no joy. He glanced behind him, to where his other eleven sisters stood. Lilac and Violet, the oldest but for Zinnia, flanked the queen, each with one arm wrapped comfortingly around her. Even Wisteria, the usually precocious three-year-old, was silent and subdued, apparently grasping the solemnity of the occasion.

“What will you do now?”

Zinnia’s question brought Basil’s attention back to her.

“I’ll attend the formal supper, of course.”

The princess gave him the royal equivalent of an eye roll. “I meant afterward. I meant,” she gestured to her right, where the cliffs gave way to a gentler slope, across which the city of Tola sprawled, “with everything.”

Basil’s eyes followed her arm, and for a moment he was silent. His gaze rested on the castle, sitting proudly at the top of a low section of cliffs, commanding an excellent view of the buildings on the flatter ground below.

“I’m going to make some changes,” he said frankly. “For one thing, I’m going to get rid of anyone who just tells me what I want to hear.”

“Executing advisors as your first move,” said Zinnia lightly. “Bold beginning.”

Basil went to elbow her in the ribs, and remembered just in time that a king probably couldn’t do that in public.

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