Page 35 of Kingdom of Feathers

“King Basil,” said King Lloyd, his voice somber. “Welcome.”

Straightening, Basil searched the other king’s face. It was hard to tell if the greeting was sincere. He didn’t know King Lloyd well enough to read his expression.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Basil evenly. “I’m glad to be here.”

His eyes passed to the queen and the princess, and he inclined his head. “Queen Liana, Princess Wren.”

Neither spoke in reply, although they both inclined their heads slightly. Basil found his eyes lingering on Princess Wren, surprise passing over him. Obviously his preparatory research had been insufficient. Perhaps it was all the talk of her silence and timidity, but he had formed the impression that King Lloyd’s heir was still a child. Up close, however, he could see that the princess before him was undoubtedly a young woman.

She looked ill at ease compared to her parents, her hands folded in front of her as if they needed assistance to avoid fidgeting. Her hair was unconfined, erupting around her head in unruly black curls that looked like they would defy any attempt to tame them.

Not that the effect was unpleasant. On the contrary, Basil was a little startled to discover that not only was Princess Wren a young woman, she was a very attractive one.

Furthermore, the hard look she was giving him didn’t support what he’d been told about her timidity. He would have expected her eyes to be fixed on her feet, like his shy young sister Magnolia’s so often were. But Princess Wren was watching him closely, her searching brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. Clearly she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. Which, he reflected, looking at her slim form, probably wouldn’t be far.

“I daresay you wish to freshen up before partaking of some food,” said King Lloyd, still speaking with a slight stiffness. “My steward is waiting to show you and your party to your quarters, but first my daughter will show you where to find the dining hall once you are ready.”

Basil blinked in surprise. The silent princess was going to give him a tour? If she felt equally surprised, she showed no sign of it.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty,” he said, inclining his head toward the king once again. “I will be glad to freshen up and to take some food, but then I look forward to fruitful discussions between us soon.”

King Lloyd raised one eyebrow, but Basil didn’t regret his direct speech. He hadn’t ridden all the way from Tola—in defiance of the wishes of his family and all of his advisors—to partake in luncheons and diplomatic chitchat. He fully expected to negotiate directly with King Lloyd, and without delay. The sooner he made that clear, the better for all concerned.

Without a word—of course—the princess turned and climbed the shallow steps leading into the castle. With a final respectful nod to the king and queen, Basil followed her, his retinue trailing behind him. Two of his own guards flanked him, but the Entolian soldiers remained outside, ready to be led to the barracks where they were to be accommodated. Basil caught an uneasy look from his senior officer, and gave the man what he hoped was a reassuring nod.

Princess Wren led the small party through a well lit and pleasant entranceway, climbing a flight of stairs and proceeding some way down a broad corridor before stopping. She gestured through an open door, and glancing in, Basil saw a large dining hall, dominated by an immense and highly polished table of mahogany. A lavish spread already covered the surface, and servants stood at the ready around the edge of the room.

Basil hid a smile. Intimately familiar with castle life as he was, he doubted that the royal family of Mistra habitually ate such an extravagant luncheon in the late afternoon. Not that he was complaining. If his hosts were inclined to try to intimidate him with their opulence, he would be well pleased if they did so by means of food.

He nodded to the princess. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

She nodded back, but her eyes weren’t on him. They were scanning the corridor, apparently looking for someone or something. Basil took the opportunity to further measure her. It was well known that Mistra was embarrassed by its eccentric crown princess, and Basil had therefore expected her silences to be awkward. But now he saw her in person, he didn’t find it so at all. In fact, in spite of her evident unease with the whole situation, he was struck primarily with an impression of quiet elegance and grace.

Picturing Zinnia’s alarming levity around magical creatures which could kill her with a single swipe, Briar’s uncomfortable obsession with accuracy, and Wisteria’s generally uncontrolled exuberance, it occurred to Basil that Mistra could do much worse in its heir. At least there was every likelihood that King Lloyd would have a long life, so that Princess Wren wouldn’t have to shoulder the burden of ruler until she was well into adulthood, by which time any issues of confidence would surely have disappeared.

The princess turned to him, her brow slightly furrowed. When she saw how closely he was watching her, she stilled. Basil didn’t look away, meeting her gaze steadily. When the silence stretched out, he raised one questioning eyebrow, and was amazed to see the princess’s cheeks tinge slightly with color.

She cleared her throat, raising one hand to fidget slightly with something suspended around her neck on the chain he’d noticed earlier. A glance showed Basil that it was a heavy gold signet ring, the Mistran royal crest adorning it in some kind of red stone. Princess Wren evidently saw him looking, because she dropped her hand quickly, instead gesturing further down the corridor.

Basil suddenly realized what she must have been looking for—King Lloyd had said that the steward would show the visiting king to his rooms, but no such person was in sight. Gathering that the princess intended to perform this office herself, Basil moved forward as directed. As he walked—Princess Wren beside him, and his delegation behind them—Basil thought about that cleared throat. Had the sound been confirmation of the rumors, that there was nothing physically wrong with the princess’s voice?

It wasn’t far from the banquet hall to the king’s suite. They had just reached the relevant corridor, and Princess Wren was looking uncertainly between several doors, when a middle aged man came hurrying up.

“I beg your pardon Your Highness,” he said to Princess Wren, before turning to Basil, “Your Majesty. Allow me to show you and your attendants to your rooms.”

“No pardon necessary,” said Basil lightly. “Her Highness has looked after us very graciously.”

The princess shot him a suspicious look. Surprising himself by how much he wanted to remove the distrust from her eyes, Basil gave her a half-bow.

“Thank you, Princess Wren.”

She gave a tight nod, still looking unconvinced, and swept away up the corridor. Basil watched her for a moment too long, and when he turned he found the steward watching him curiously.

“Your Majesty,” said the man quickly, bowing again before gesturing to a nearby door. “Your suite.”

The two Entolian guards accompanying Basil stepped forward, performing a quick check of what turned out to be a large and well-appointed two room suite. Once they had cleared the space, Basil thanked the steward politely. The man, having pointed the other guests to their nearby accommodation, hurried away.

Basil turned to Lord Baldwin. “I would like to convene in my rooms before we eat,” he said, his gaze encompassing everyone. He noticed that several of them were looking around fearfully.

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