Page 55 of Kingdom of Feathers

Wren barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Utterly convinced as she now was that Entolia hadn’t launched the attack, she could see the folly of her father’s stubbornness. But his words had prompted something in her mind. She’d been putting all her energy into researching enchantments with Basil, but her single-minded focus had caused her to miss another crucial opportunity. She had the access her father was denying the visiting king. She should be trying to use her influence to softenhim, not Basil.

The thought daunted her more than she wanted to admit to herself. She knew her father cared about her, but she’d never felt that he took her seriously, and she didn’t have the confidence to try to influence him. Her intervention on the proposed invasion of Entolia had been her only victory in that area. And now that he seemed to suspect her of being too soft toward Basil, she was afraid he would be even less likely to take her counsel on board.

Locking the thought away for later, she cleared her slate.

May I go?

King Lloyd waved his dismissal, and to Wren’s surprise, her mother walked with her out of the study. The queen seemed ill at ease as they traversed the corridor, and it took her a full minute to address her daughter.

“I’ve also noticed that you seem to be on good terms with King Basil, Wren,” she commented softly. “What’s your impression of him? Is his desire for peace genuine, do you think?”

Wren stopped walking, waiting until her mother looked her in the eye. Then, putting all her sincerity into her face, she nodded earnestly.

The queen nodded as well, her expression troubled. “I hope so,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. She looked exhausted as she held Wren’s gaze. “I miss your brothers as much as your father does,” she commented unexpectedly. “But I’m weary of conflict. There’s been too much fighting already.”

With a quick squeeze of her daughter’s hand, she turned, making her way toward the royal wing. Wren stared after her mother, her thoughts swirling. Perhaps she would have an unexpected ally in any attempt to soften her father.

Still turning the matter over, she hurried toward the hothouse. It was little used, and she and Basil had adopted it as a base of sorts. Her guards no longer protested her restrictions on them. They hovered in the doorway willingly enough, clearly finding her constant one-sided conversations with Basil neither interesting nor a threat to her safety.

She hoped Basil would be waiting for her there, and she wasn’t disappointed. As soon as she entered the room, she saw him, examining the pond with his back to her, feet planted apart and hands clasped behind his back.

He turned at her approach, his face brightening at the sight of her. “Is everything all right?” he asked. “I know my father only ever called me to his study like that when I was in serious trouble.”

His smile lightened the words, and provoked an answering one in Wren. She shook her head to show all was fine. She wasn’t about to recount her conversation with her father to Basil. He’d already become more of a friend than she would have considered possible a fortnight before, but telling him that her father had instructed her to try to gain his trust and manipulate him would be taking things a little far. She didn’t have any intention of trying to convince either Basil or her father of anything to do with the border. She couldn’t care less about the iron ore. Her only interest was in holding on until the curse lifted, and finding out who had been behind it in the first place.

“What did you find in Zinnia’s notes?” Basil demanded, his mind clearly also returning to their main concern.

Wren joined him at the bench, sitting down and waiting until he did the same. She pulled the parchment in question from her pocket and held it out to him, not bothering to point out the relevant section. Basil would understand its significance without her help.

Sure enough, only a moment after his eyes scanned the page, he drew in a sharp breath. “So it’s definitely possible!” he exclaimed. He frowned as he ran his eyes over the whole entry again. “But not something to be done lightly.”

Wren nodded her agreement, and Basil looked up at her, his expression troubled.

“It would have to be someone powerful though,” he said. “To enhance her magic enough for that curse.”

Wren held up one hand, using a finger from the other to tap each digit in turn.

“You think more than one other enchanter poured magic into her?” he asked, grasping her meaning at once. She nodded, pleased, and Basil looked thoughtful. “Possible,” he mused. “But an alarming thought. Imagine an entire group of enchanters bent on provoking conflict between our kingdoms. That’s a formidable opponent.”

Wren drew in a deep breath then let it out. Her thoughts had gone along much the same track the night before.

“And,” Basil added, sounding angry, “whoever they are, they must be incredibly irresponsible to give that kind of power to someone so clearly unbalanced. How dare they play with people’s lives like that? It’s not a well-planned attack, is it? It’s more like they didn’t care about the consequences, and just wanted to wreak havoc.”

Wren frowned. He was right, and it didn’t make sense to her either. Her eyes strayed to the glass walls, and the winged figure loitering in the woods just beyond them. Bram had been determined in his surveillance of Basil, she had to give him that.

“It’s almost a shame your fatherdoesn’tkeep a register of all the enchanters in Mistra,” Basil muttered. “Might make it easier to identify whom we should be investigating.”

Wren shook her head, pulling out her slate. Basil waited with his usual patience while she laboriously wrote out a longer message.

Remember the investigation—we know she spent time in Entolia. Maybe the magic-user who helped her was Entolian.

“That’s true,” Basil sighed. Wren knew him well enough now not to be surprised by the total lack of defensiveness in his voice. “It’s equally possible.”

Wren ran a hand through her hair, which was unrestrained today, as she liked it best. She noticed Basil’s eyes following the gesture, and was suddenly reminded of the first time she’d showed him the hothouse. He hadn’t repeated the action since then, but she could still feel the pressure of his hand as he’d laid it reassuringly over hers.

He seemed to realize she was watching him, because he forced a smile.

“Don’t worry, Wren,” he said firmly. “We’ll find out who orchestrated that attack.” His face set into hard lines. “And we’ll make them regret it.”

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