Page 4 of Kingdom of Feathers

Pushing herself to her feet, she ran. She could hear chaos erupting behind her, as everyone in the group tried to understand what was happening. She could imagine what they were all thinking—the last thing they’d heard was the mad enchantress announcing her intention to kill all seven of the royals. Then they’d been knocked out, and awoken to find only her.

No one would be pleased with the identity of the survivor.

Pounding feet told Wren she was being pursued, and she even thought she heard the flapping of wings. But she didn’t turn. Within minutes she was hurtling through the door of the castle, two guards at her heels. She knew where her father would be meeting with the Entolian envoy, and she directed her steps straight there. Ignoring the startled protests of the guards outside the door, she threw herself into the room.

“Wren!” King Lloyd gasped, his expression shocked.

Wren came to a halt, panting hard. She realized how foolish she must look, racing into the room with such frantic haste, only to stand there silently.

“Wren, what is going on?” the king demanded. His eyes flicked to the guards behind her.

“Your Majesty,” one of the guards gasped. He wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead, and Wren could see in his eyes how reluctant he was to be the one to bring this message. “We were attacked, in the castle woods.”

“What?” King Lloyd stepped toward them. Movement behind the king drew Wren’s eyes, and she frowned at the sight of the Entolian envoy shifting nervously.

“An enchantress, Your Majesty,” the guard went on. “She…she said she would kill the princes, and the princess, and then she did something…I don’t know what happened. We were all knocked unconscious, and when we awoke…when we awoke…”

“Well?” King Lloyd demanded, his furious impatience unsuccessfully concealing the terror beneath it.

“The enchantress was dead. It looked as though she’d used more power than her body could survive. And…and the princess was the only one left.”

The guard’s words seemed to ring in the silence that followed. Wren saw her father’s gaze move slowly to her face, and she shook her head frantically.

“What is it, Wren?” he asked. “Do you know where your brothers are?”

As he asked the question, a different sound reached Wren’s ears. Everyone in the room looked over at the rattle of the window, and Wren blinked in amazement as she saw two swans flapping their wings against the glass. They’d followed her. That was encouraging—hopefully it meant they still retained their right minds. She hadn’t liked the idea of trying to identify them among the rest of the swans at the lake.

“Those swans are still all excited,” muttered the other guard, and the king sent an inquiring look toward him.

“We were hunting swans when the woman attacked, Your Majesty,” he explained. “But they were a little too tame for sport.”

Wren stamped her foot, frustration eating at her. She gestured wildly toward the swans, but her father just blinked in confusion.

“Wren? Why don’t you speak! Where are your brothers? What happened?”

Again Wren gestured at the window, but she could see from everyone’s blank faces that her message wasn’t getting through. Casting her eyes around the room, she brightened at the sight of a writing desk. Hurrying toward it, she pulled a piece of blank parchment onto the flat surface and seized a quill. She wasn’t allowed to talk, but surely she was allowed to write.

The woman attacked us. She said you’d cast her aside, and she was going to kill us all as revenge. But it didn’t work, at least not fully. They’re

The scratching of her quill ceased abruptly at the loud honk. Wren froze, terrified. It was the same sound she’d heard from one of the swans when she spoke that one illicit word back in the forest, and it was unmistakably an expression of pain.

She dropped the quill as though it had burned her. What had she done? Surely writing was allowed. Two whole sentences she’d managed, with no repercussions. She’d been about to write,They’re not dead, but apparently doing so had breached the conditions of the curse.

What had the enchantress said?

You mustn’t say a word, you mustn’t tell anyone, or they’ll die.

Clearly the prohibition against saying a word was absolute. No talking, no exceptions. But perhaps the second part, forbidding her to tell anyone, meant that she couldn’t communicate her brothers’ fate even by means other than speaking. Wren trembled with fear. Had the swan survived her mistake? And how would she get the help her brothers needed now?

She felt her father’s gaze on her, and looked back at him.

“Wren?” he demanded. “Did she put some kind of silencing curse on you?”

Wren paused, fearful of telling him more details. Who knew which aspects of the incident would be captured by the curse? Besides, the enchantress hadn’t cursed her. She shook her head slowly, and was relieved when no further squawk of pain came through the window.

Her father placed a hand on her shoulder. He was clearly trying to be gentle, but she could feel the way his whole body quivered with tension.

“What happened, Wren? Tell me.”

---