Page 44 of Kingdom of Feathers

Don’t be…fool, Wren. Just because…pair of pretty eyes…lying through his teeth.

Wren shot her brother a look that spoke volumes. She wasn’t sure whether it was her eyes that were supposed to be pretty or King Basil’s, but she didn’t appreciate the insinuation that she was letting some shallow attraction impact her thinking. King Basil was still an Entolian, no matter how handsome he might or might not be. And although he seemed much more comfortable to engage with her than almost anyone she’d met in the last six years, she was still a silent, eccentric oddity. She couldn’t be further from the forthright nature he clearly preferred. Neither of them were thinking of the other in that light, and it was unhelpful of Averett even to suggest it.

Very unhelpful, she reflected, surprised and a little ashamed at the hint of wistfulness that passed over her as she looked again into King Basil’s eyes, and saw how his smile transformed his face. It was impossible to know whether he was serious by nature, or simply forced to be due to his early ascension to the throne. But when he smiled, the cheerful glint in his eyes convinced Wren there was more to him than his role.

If only she could show him more than the reserved facade she was forced to maintain.

She was being ridiculous. King Basil didn’t care about her personality. He cared about ending the war between their kingdoms, and she applauded him for it. Pushing such foolish thoughts aside, she turned her mind to the unanswerable question of who had been behind the enchantress’s attack if it hadn’t been the Entolian crown.

“Thank you.” King Basil’s voice startled her, its quiet tones so unlike what she’d so far heard from him. “For believing me,” he added, seeing her confusion.

She nodded again, even more slowly. She was uncomfortable with how much his gratitude warmed her, but she couldn’t help it. She’d absolutely assumed the king would be offended at being expected to communicate with her in place of her father, and instead he was genuinely trying to negotiate with her.

“So,” the Entolian prompted, in a return to his normal, somewhat brusque, manner. “Are you going to answer my original question? About what happened when your brothers died?”

Impertinent, isn’t he?demanded Lyall, sounding offended.

Wren bit her lip. She wasn’t offended, but a measure of wariness had returned nonetheless. She tried to avoid communicating anything about that day, for fear she’d let something slip that would trigger the curse.

Slowly, regretfully, she shook her head. It was a reasonable request, but it was one she couldn’t fulfill.

“Is it too insensitive of me to ask?” King Basil prompted at her prolonged inactivity. There was no hint of sensitivity in his voice.

Wren shook her head impatiently, hoping he would understand that wasn’t the issue. Clearing her slate, she wrote two words.

This afternoon.

King Basil looked perplexed, but before he could ask for clarification, a voice hailed him.

“Your Majesty!”

Wren didn’t need any special skills of observation to see that the guard—decked out in Entolian livery—was annoyed. It was written plainly across his face.

“King Basil, I must protest,” he said, scowling. “I objected to you attending the council without protection—”

“Yes, I remember,” King Basil cut him off dryly. But the guard wasn’t to be deterred.

“But to go wandering around the gardens, Your Majesty, without even alerting your guards as to your whereabouts—”

The man blustered on. Raising an eyebrow, Wren looked between the guard and the young king. She couldn’t imagine any guard ever speaking so to her father, who would certainly never tolerate it. Clearly King Basil was facing the same attitude in his own people that had irritated her on his behalf when coming from her father and the general. She thought of the formidable King Justin of Albury, who had come into his role even younger than King Basil. From all she’d heard of him, she was sure he would have been furious to be disrespected because of his youth. But King Basil just sat, patiently allowing his guard to let out the burst of frustration. When he spoke, his voice was as calm as ever.

“I appreciate your concern, but other than almost being mauled by these swans—I promise their docile appearance is deceiving—I’ve been perfectly safe here speaking with Princess Wren, I assure you.”

Bram clicked his beak menacingly, as if to prove the king’s words, and King Basil let out a chuckle.

“I’ve kept you long enough, though,” he said amicably, rising to his feet.

Hiding a smile, Wren reflected that the audible grumble of his stomach may have had something to do with his readiness to leave. She remained seated, inclining her head in acknowledgment of his words.

“I’ll look forward to further discussion this afternoon, then,” King Basil said. He gave her a pointed look. “As promised.”

She nodded slowly, her thoughts wandering to the records room which she intended to visit immediately after breakfast. She thought King Basil had said all he wanted to, so she was startled when he turned back to address her.

“I don’t know why you would think the war was your fault,” he said frankly. “I’ve heard reports from the front lines of soldiers who survive when the rest of their unit doesn’t. People tell them they’re lucky, but some of them say the guilt of surviving is worse than facing death like their companions.” His eyes were thoughtful as they rested on her face. “I have twelve sisters, so perhaps I can begin to imagine what you experienced when your brothers died. I’m no expert, of course, but you seem too sensible to me to extend whatever you might feel about that day so far as to blame yourself for the war.”

Wren felt her lips fall slightly open at this direct speech. King Basil’s eyes flicked down to them, and she clamped them quickly shut again. She had no response, and he seemed to realize it, because after another inclination of the head, he strode back toward the castle, his guard hovering disapprovingly beside him.

That has to be the most insolent person I’ve ever met.

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