Page 3 of Kingdom of Feathers

All six of her brothers were shrinking, their bodies changing before her eyes. Caleb, nearest to her, reached out a protective hand, as if to pull her to safety. But even as Wren stretched her own arm toward him, his smooth brown skin transformed into white feathers, and instead of an arm, it was a wing lying across the forest floor.

As unbelievable as it seemed, there was no denying the evidence of her eyes. Not just Caleb, but all six of them had been turned into—

“Swans?!” shrieked the old woman. She turned to Wren with murder in her eyes. “Swans! This is your fault! Do you have any idea how powerful that magic was? How rare? It was supposed to kill you all, not turn them into swans!”

The enchantress made as if to advance, but clearly her strength was spent. With a grunt of pain, she fell to the forest floor, her eyes still fixed on Wren.

“Nothing…left…” she muttered. “All that extra power…gone…for nothing…”

“Turn them back!” Wren screamed, falling to her knees and shaking the enchantress. “Turn them back!”

A thin cackle arose from the woman before her. “Can’t…none left…all that power they offered me…” A violent coughing fit interrupted her speech, and Wren’s panic rose.

“What power? Who offered it to you?” she demanded desperately.

But she could see the madness in the woman’s eyes, and was unsurprised to receive a nonsensical answer. “In a dream,” the enchantress said, her voice singsong. “But it’s all gone now.” Suddenly the woman gasped, her eyes flying open. “The counterforce!” she cried. “I haven’t crafted the counterforce yet. That won’t take extra power. I can still do that!”

“Yes!” Wren said eagerly, struggling to remember what she’d been taught about enchantments.

She knew it was normal practice to build a counterforce into an enchantment, providing some way to break it. Some kind of natural counterforce always existed, and by building in a remedy, the enchanter could control that counterforce. An enchanter who didn’t do so ran the risk of the subject of the curse discovering the natural counterforce and using it to break the enchantment entirely.

Wren knew that in the case of malicious curses, such as whatever this enchantress had done, a built-in counterforce was likely to be something horrible, such as a requirement that she exchange her life for that of her brothers. But she didn’t care. Whatever it was, she would do it. The idea of being left in the dark, with no way to change her brothers back to their true forms, was much worse. She doubted she would have success figuring out the natural counterforce—most likely even the enchantress wouldn’t be able to do so, since turning the princes into swans wasn’t even what she’d intended to do.

“You should’ve…stayed out of…it…” The enchantress’s brief moment of excitement had passed, and she was once again flagging. “But you’re in it now.” She waved a hand feebly, but with purpose. “You’re bound up in the curse, and you can’t escape it.”

“What’s the counterforce?” Wren cried, impatient of the woman’s ramblings.

All around her, those who were supposed to protect and guide her lay unconscious on the ground. And her brothers, even the seemingly invincible Caleb, were nothing but a bevy of birds, stirring feebly and flapping awkward wings as they struggled to rise from the ground. There was no one but her, and shehadto get answers before the enchantress succumbed to the darkness that seemed to be closing in on her.

“The counterforce!” she yelled again, when the woman didn’t respond. “What is it? Tell me! Tell me what I have to do! Tell me how to change them back! Say something! Tell me—”

“Silence!” snapped the woman. “Stop shouting and let me die in peace!”

“But—”

“Not a word!” shrieked the enchantress. Her eyes flew open, and the madness was back in them. It made Wren’s blood run cold, but she forced herself to lean in, hoping desperately to hear something she could use. “That’s it,” cackled the old woman. “Not a word. You’re bound up in the curse now, and so is your voice. You mustn’t say a word, you mustn’t tell anyone,” she gestured vaguely at the swans, one of whom had found its webbed feet and was now advancing menacingly, “or they’ll die. All of them, one by one!”

Wren gasped in horror, and the woman’s laugh was cut off by another cough. “Yes, that’s good,” she muttered feverishly. “It’s the counterforce, so it costs me nothing extra. The others can’t even be angry with me—they’ll still get their war. Because you can’t possibly succeed, so in the end I’ll win.” She glanced up at Wren, and seemed to see the blazing determination in the princess’s eyes. “Think you can do it, girly? By all means, try. Six years I’ve suffered—if you can stay silent for six years, the magic’s hold will break. They’ll probably return to their human forms then.” She shrugged a careless shoulder. “Who can say? I didn’t intend to turn them into swans, so I can’t be sure.”

She coughed again, and there was malice in her eyes. “But you’ll never last six years. And when you fail, you’ll kill them.”

Before Wren could do a thing, the enchantress fell back limply, the feverish light fading from her eyes.

“No!” Wren cried, unthinkingly.

At once, the swan who had waddled closest—Caleb, she was pretty sure—let out an agonized honking sound and fell onto its side. Restraining her scream of horror with every ounce of willpower she possessed, Wren raced to the bird’s side. The creature was lying on the forest floor, its eyes unnervingly familiar as it stared up at her. It was breathing hard, and when it tried to right itself, one wing seemed to be bent and painful. The other five swans were waddling over now, surrounding the one who had fallen.

A groan drew Wren’s attention to one of the guards, and she realized with a leap of her heart that the rest of the group were coming around. She stumbled to the man’s side, tugging at his arm until he regained full consciousness.

“Your Highness,” he said, sounding dazed. “What…” He glanced around, his brow furrowed. As he looked, others stirred as well. The guard’s gaze settled on the enchantress’s body, and his eyes widened. But before he could speak, another groan sounded from alongside him.

“What in the blazes is going on?” It was the huntsman who had approached Caleb earlier, and he scowled disapprovingly at the birds milling around the clearing. “So much for hunting the swans,” he muttered. “No sport in pursuing such tame birds.” He flapped a hand. “Be off with you.”

“Where are the princes?” The sharp voice brought Wren’s attention back to the guard. He was raking the area frantically with his gaze, and Wren could see her own panic growing behind his eyes.

She opened her mouth to tell him exactly where her brothers were, and only just remembered in time. Clamping it shut, she curled her fists in frustration. What could she do? How could she tell them? And even if she could tell them, how would they fix this?

Her parents. They were the ones she needed to find. She had to get back to the castle.

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