Page 6 of Kingdom of Feathers

She wasn’t given the opportunity to decide. She was shepherded firmly to her rooms, although not quickly enough to avoid glimpsing the body of the enchantress as it was carried into the castle by a pair of guards. Wren shuddered, and made no further protest about being herded into her suite.

The rest of the day passed in a horrifying blur that Wren knew she would never forget. Her mother’s explosion of emotions was even worse than her father’s, and Wren thought she would lose her mind with the horror of knowing her brothers were alive and not being able to tell her parents. The castle was in complete uproar within the hour, and from her window, Wren saw the Entolian envoy mount his horse in the castle courtyard, and ride hard out of the southern gate.

By mid-afternoon, the servants were whispering about murder and war.

Wren, of course, didn’t whisper. She didn’t mutter so much as a single word. Everyone was understandably unnerved by her silence, and she was watched every minute. Accordingly, she had no opportunity to seek out her brothers until night fell. The maid who was keeping watch in her room soon fell asleep, exhausted by the day’s excitement, and apparently convinced by Wren’s own feigned slumber.

The princess slipped out of bed, wondering how she was going to get past the six guards currently stationed outside her door.

But she didn’t need to. As she was padding across the room, she heard a tap on the window. Glancing over, she stifled a gasp at the sight of a swan, hovering in mid-air and—unless she was much mistaken—glaring at her through the glass.

She raced to the window and opened the catchment. Awkwardly, the swan glided in. She searched its figure hopelessly. Which one was it? Impossible to tell.

The swan dropped to the floor and folded its wings inexpertly. When Wren stood motionless, at a loss for what to do next, it reached out and tweaked her nightdress with its beak. It still seemed irritated, judging by the way it was ruffling its feathers.

She knelt down, reaching a tentative hand toward it. The moment she touched the swan’s glossy feathers, a familiar—and rather abrasive—voice filled her mind.

Now how do I get you to understand?

She jumped, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp. Focusing hard, she pressed her hand against the bird’s surprisingly warm side, and justthoughtthe words.

Averett? Is that you?

The swan stilled, staring up at her from small, beady eyes.

Yes, it’s me. How are you doing that?

I don’t know,Wren thought, exasperated.Do you think I have any idea what’s going on? You’re the one who’s a sort-of talking swan.

The swan-Averett flapped his wings in agitation, and Wren glanced nervously toward the sleeping maid. Pressing her hand back against his side, she added,Where are the others?

The swan jerked its head toward the window.Down in the gardens.

Wren swallowed, afraid to ask.Caleb?

Somehow, Averett’s gruff tone came through perfectly, even inside her mind.He’s in a state. Something happened to him back in the clearing, and again when we approached the castle.

Blinking back tears, Wren rocked back on her heels. Averett didn’t yet realize it had been her fault. She hardly knew what to say. Pushing herself to her feet, she padded quietly to the window. Her suite was on the castle’s second level. Looking down, she could see five swans huddled on the ground below, their very avian heads raised to her window. One of them—noticeably the largest—had one wing folded at an awkward angle.

Without giving herself time to think too hard about it, Wren clambered onto the window sill. She’d never done this before, but she knew both Bram and Conan, her third and fourth brothers, had climbed out their windows many times.

One of the swans—most likely Caleb—made an admonitory trumpeting sound at her risky behavior, but she ignored it. Lowering herself slowly, she searched with her bare toes for a foothold on the stone. She managed to get halfway down the first level before she tumbled, with a total lack of royal dignity, into the bush positioned directly below her window.

Ow, she thought ruefully, only just remembering in time not to speak the word aloud. Before she could scramble to her feet, she was surrounded by trumpeting, flapping swans. Averett glided down from her window sill to join them, with only marginally more dignity than Wren’s descent.

The largest swan flapped its wings in agitation as Wren crawled out of the bush. The action caused it to let out a honk of pain as its injured wing was jostled.

Reaching out, Wren laid a hand against the bird’s heaving side.

Caleb? Can you…I don’t know what this is. Hear my thoughts?

The swan bugled, but while Wren’s ears heard the absurd sound, her mind heard Caleb’s voice, just as she’d heard Averett’s.

Yes, I can hear you. I don’t understand what’s happening.

Wren shook her head. She doubted anyone had those answers. Even if the enchantress wasn’t lying dead inside the castle, even she had clearly been taken by surprise by the effect of her own magic. Casting her mind back over those terrifying minutes when—but for the swans—she’d been alone in the clearing with the dying enchantress, Wren pressed her fingers against the swan-Caleb’s feathers.

All I can think of is that she said I’m bound up in the curse somehow, even though it didn’t actually get me.She turned reproachful eyes to Caleb.You shouldn’t have given me your protective ring, Caleb.

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