Page 41 of Kingdom of Feathers

Distracted as he was by the bizarre tameness of the swan, which was allowing Princess Wren to lay her hand on its side like it was her pet, it took Basil a moment to notice that something was off with the bird. Its wing was bent at a strange angle, perhaps broken, and it moved with less grace than its fellows.

His gaze drawn from the bird to its companion, Basil considered the princess thoughtfully. Judging by the way she was fussing over the bird, she was clearly compassionate in nature. Could her compassion extend to his own, enemy kingdom? Surely she’d be more sympathetic than most courtiers seemed to be about the plight of the soldiers fighting and dying needlessly, on both sides of the battle lines.

The other swans had reached the edge of the water now, and they jostled against each other as they moved onto land. Basil’s gaze flicked back to the injured swan, and he was unnerved to see the bird looking directly at him. Why it was so unsettling, he couldn’t say, but the swan was watching him with an intentness that made him feel like he’d been caught in wrongdoing. He could have sworn the bird was irritated, but surely swans couldn’t communicate emotion to humans merely by the look in their eyes.

Suddenly the bird gave a loud, grating bugle. To Basil’s alarm, all of the other swans’ heads snapped instantly around, and six pairs of beady eyes settled unblinkingly on him. A couple of them flapped their wings, and a smaller one strutted toward him, clicking its beak in a clear sign of aggression.

A stifled choke made Basil look quickly at Princess Wren. To his mingled amusement and annoyance, he saw that she was holding back laughter at his predicament. He suddenly realized he’d taken a few involuntary steps back, and he let out a chuckle himself.

The birds did not like this show of mirth. Several of them waddled forward, trumpeting in their clear avian voices, and flapping their wings angrily. Basil glanced helplessly at the princess and saw that she was no longer trying to hide her humor. Her face was split in a genuine smile, the first he’d seen on her. For a moment he froze, taken aback by how dramatically it changed her features. He’d thought on first sight that she was attractive, and he’d formed the impression since that she was both intelligent and graceful.

When she beamed like that, however, with the morning light softening her features, and her exuberant hair already beginning to pull free around her face, she was downright stunning.

Without thinking about it, Basil hurried back toward her, past the two guards who were hanging warily back from the strange birds.

“Save me, Princess,” he joked. “I’m under attack without even a single one of my guards to defend me.”

The injured swan—who alone had stayed by her side—snaked its long neck forward and nipped at Basil’s doublet. Instinctively, and again without thinking it through, Basil grabbed at Princess Wren’s arm as he jumped back from the bird. It was the kind of gesture he would have done with one of his sisters, and he recollected too late that it was completely out of place with a foreign princess. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the swift movement of her guards as they stepped aggressively forward, and winced at his blunder.

But someone else was ahead of them. If the swans had been unhappy about him laughing with Princess Wren, they were absolutely livid about him touching her. He didn’t need to be an expert in swan behavior to interpret their intent as they flocked toward him, honking angrily and waddling as quickly as their flat feet would let them. A couple of them beat their wings so furiously in their rage, they actually lifted slightly from the ground.

Letting go of Princess Wren’s arm, Basil lifted both his own over his head, genuine alarm coursing through him as the birds converged upon him.

“Dragon’s flame!” he exclaimed involuntarily, as several wings beat against him, and he felt the nip of at least one beak. “If they kill me, do I take it as an act of war against Entolia?”

That seemed to snap Princess Wren out of her entertainment, and she waded into the fray, laying her hand on each swan in turn. Her touch stopped their attack so effectively, Basil could almost have believed she was using some kind of magic. Could that be the purpose of the artifact she wore around her neck?

He dismissed the thought with a flash of humor. It was a little hard to imagine the austere King Lloyd giving his heir a signet ring that was enchanted to give her authority over waterfowl.

The birds were no longer assaulting Basil, but they were still very menacing as they milled around him, all those beady eyes fixed suspiciously on his face.

Glancing up at Princess Wren, he saw that she was pulling something out of a pocket at her side. Basil brightened at once at the unexpected sight of a slate. The princess scribbled something on it, and held it out for him to see. He looked from her face—still warmed by uncontained humor—to the words curling elegantly across the surface.

If they kill you, I guessyouwon’t take it as an act of anything.

“True,” he said, smiling in spite of himself. “But I absolutely refuse to be assassinated by swan attack. Can you imagine? I’d be remembered as the king with the least dignified death in Entolian history. I’d much rather not be remembered at all.”

Princess Wren looked like she was trying not to smile, but she couldn’t quite manage it. Shaking her head, she wiped her slate clean and returned it to her pocket. Basil felt a surge of disappointment at this evidence that she was done conversing with him, followed instantly by a determination to make her change her mind.

“The slate is an excellent notion,” he said cheerfully. “It will make things much simpler.”

The princess raised one eyebrow in an expression that made him think she was still deciding whether to be offended. Disregarding this, Basil pushed on.

“I’m honest enough to say that I wasn’t expecting to negotiate with you rather than your father,” he said. “But I hope that means you’ll trust my honesty when I say that I’m pleased for the opportunity. I think you may be able to help me more than anyone else, actually.”

The princess managed to look both pleased and skeptical, but the swans just rustled their collective feathers suspiciously.

“Plus,” Basil added, thinking he may as well put it all on the table, “I’ve come to realize that my hastiness in wanting to engage in immediate negotiation has…displeased King Lloyd.”

Princess Wren made a noise in her throat. After only a moment’s hesitation, she dove back into her pocket for the slate. Basil hid a satisfied smile at his success.

Nothing gets past you, does it?

He laughed aloud at her quip. “Was it really worth the effort of writing it out just to poke fun at me?”

The princess responded with a definite nod, once again not quite able to restrain a smile. One of the larger birds hustled up to her, pressing against her side and snaking its head back so as to give her a look that really could only be described as a glare.

“They’re unusual birds, aren’t they?” Basil mused, his gaze passing curiously over the gathered swans. He regretted his words a moment later, when a glance back up showed him that the cautious mask had once again descended on Princess Wren’s face.

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