Page 64 of Kingdom of Feathers

Because if I say it was an attack, my father will arrest you for it.

“Ah.” Basil sat back, understanding rushing in. “I see the dilemma.”

There was no need for Wren to explain further. He knew King Lloyd was unlikely to see reason where he was concerned. The Mistran king had clearly been expecting something duplicitous since the moment Basil arrived. And if he thought Basil had attacked Wren, they’d never be allowed to exchange another word again.

That would be unacceptable.

Seized by a sudden thought, he sent Wren a concerned look. “But you know I had no part in it, don’t you?”

She smiled softly as she nodded, the look in her eyes causing something uncomfortably warm to lodge in Basil’s chest. He smiled back at her, for a moment losing the thread of their conversation. Knowing that she trusted him made him feel lighter than he had in a long time.

Before either of them could say more, an insistent honk from the pond drew both their attention. Wren started up at once, abandoning her slate and hurrying toward the water. The lame swan began to struggle down from the bench, and without thinking about it, Basil paused to help it, as he’d seen Wren do many times.

He barely noticed the startled look the bird threw at him as his eyes were drawn back to Wren, now kneeling by the water. Her guards had hurried after her and, bemused, Basil did the same.

When he reached Wren’s side, it was immediately clear that she was excited about something. The other five swans had all gathered at the water’s edge, and she had a hand laid on two of them, looking between them. As Basil watched, he realized one had something dangling from its beak, flashing with red and gold. Before he could get a good look, Wren seized it. Just as Basil realized it was a chain, Wren threw it over her head, glancing surreptitiously at her guards. Basil didn’t think they’d seen—they were hovering several paces back, eyeing the nearest swans warily.

Wren looked over at him, a smile of satisfaction curving her lips. Basil was staring at her in confusion, but he hadn’t yet formed a question when she reached over and grabbed his wrist with one hand. He froze at her touch, thrown as much by her happily expectant expression as by the contact. His confusion only grew when, after the briefest of moments, Wren drew in a sharp breath and dropped his wrist as if it had burned her.

She pushed herself clumsily to her feet, her breath coming quickly as she hastily stowed the chain under her gown. In a detached part of his mind Basil noted that this must be why she’d worn a high-necked gown. It wasn’t hard to guess that the ring with the protective enchantment had fallen off when she went into the pond, although he had no idea why she was trying to hide the fact that her swans had found it again.

He suddenly realized that he shouldn’t be staring at her as she put something down the front of her dress, and looked away quickly. His thoughts were churning, many loose threads dancing tantalizingly before his mind’s eye. He was on the cusp of something, he was sure. Lots of isolated pieces of information wove through his awareness, trying to connect.

Wren’s bizarre behavior as she held on to him just now, looking at him almost like she looked at those ridiculous swans.

The impressive training that allowed the swans to search for and retrieve her lost jewelry from the pond.

The fact that there were six of them.

Wren was still avoiding his eye as she hurried back toward the bench, meeting the injured swan partway. Strange that the swan hadn’t improved in the whole time Basil had been in Myst. How long did it take for a swan’s broken wing to heal?

As he watched Wren kneel down beside the swan and lay a hand on its feathers, he felt a tickling at the edge of his awareness, an inkling of something he couldn’t quite pin down.

Without warning, the injured swan collapsed onto its side, letting out a high-pitched trumpet of clear agony.

Wren’s panic was instant and palpable. She seized the bird, her own mouth open in a silent scream as she clutched it, almost as though she was trying to protect it from harm by sheer force of will. Basil had assumed the bird had somehow agitated its injury, but the princess’s reaction was so over the top, he thought she must know something he didn’t.

The bird was still trumpeting in agony, and the sound cut through Basil like a knife. As if sensing his gaze, Wren suddenly whipped her head around to face him, her eyes wide and terrified as she took in the confused way he was looking between her and the swan.

With a movement so abrupt it made him jump, she pushed herself off the ground and threw herself at him. Before Basil knew what she was about, she was beating his chest furiously with her open palms, her eyes filled with blind panic as she communicated a silent plea he couldn’t understand. The breath was knocked from him, and his hands flew up in an instinctive gesture of defense, seizing her wrists and stilling them with an iron grip.

He was vaguely aware of Wren’s guards, who’d taken a half-step forward then stopped, clearly unsure whether to intervene when their charge was the one launching an attack. One of Basil’s own guards started forward with a cry, and Basil shot him a furious look that communicated more clearly than words that he was to stand down. The man fell back, his eyes wide and uncertain.

Basil looked back at Wren, and once again the breath left his body, although this time it had nothing to do with being pounded in the chest. He still held both of Wren’s wrists, and his defensive instinct had been to pull her within reach, where her movement was too restricted to allow her to resume her assault.

Her eyes were wide with terror as they stared into his, and her emotion was so potent, he felt fear clawing at his own mind as well. In the space of a heartbeat, she’d gone from striking him to being pressed against him, her face upturned to his, mere inches away. She was still panting from the exertion of her attack, and her breath almost intermingled with Basil’s. For a wild moment, he had the impulse to lean down, touch his lips to hers, wipe the panic from her eyes. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so unmoored in his life, and it took all his willpower to restore reason and beat the compulsion back.

For an endless moment they both stood, locked in their strange embrace as they stared wordlessly at each other.

And then Basil came to his senses and released Wren’s wrists, taking a swift step back. The swan on the ground was still now, except for the laborious rise of its chest as it breathed, and the guards and even the other swans still seemed too stunned to move.

Wren barely caught her balance as she stumbled backward, looking as dazed as Basil felt. She knelt beside the injured swan.

“Wren,” said Basil shakily, taking a step toward her and again looking in confusion at the swan.

At her name, Wren whipped around to face him. She pointed one trembling finger to the castle, and her meaning was as clear as if she’d spoken the words aloud.

You need to leave.

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