Page 75 of Kingdom of Feathers

It was Wren’s turn to stare at him, her mouth hanging open. Looking dazed, she rubbed the slate clean with a sleeve of her already disheveled gown and wrote again, her hand shaking slightly this time.

The dragons’ lead was about the war?

“That’s right,” Basil nodded, feeling utterly bemused. Had his letter not made that clear?

Wren hesitated, a worried look in her eyes as she bit on her lip, clearly debating whether to write more. After a painful moment, she added three words below what was already there.

Not about me?

Basil stared at her, his mind working furiously. She’d thought the dragons had told him something about her? Well, they had, now he thought of it. And he’d hoped all along that they would, that they might have answers about her silence. But their comments about magic that lingered around her had been too vague for him to make any use of. He couldn’t help but be desperately curious to know why the idea of the dragons giving him a hint of her secrets evoked such terror within her.

“No,” he said, belatedly realizing that she was still waiting for a response to her question. “But I’ll admit I asked.”

Her eyes widened in horror, and he seized her hand convulsively. He hated to see her so afraid.

“Wren.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Isn’t there some way I can help you?” He could hear the pleading in his own voice now, and he didn’t try to hide it.

She shook her head emphatically and pulled her hand away. And still, in her eyes, that frantic, silent entreaty that he couldn’t decipher.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said, taking a step back and trying to speak more normally. “I came here purely because the dragons told me they sensed magic radiating from the front lines when they flew over on their way to Myst.”

Wren blinked at him in silent astonishment.

“So you didn’t know about it, after all,” Basil said grimly. “Do you think your father might have had an enchantment placed on the Mistran forces without you knowing about it?”

Frowning, Wren considered the question thoughtfully. At last, she shook her head.

Basil wasn’t sure whether to be excited or alarmed that there wasn’t any such easy explanation for the supposed magic. But he had no difficulty recognizing the little thrill that came from once again working with Wren to solve a mystery.

“Well, someone has,” he said. “And I intend to find out who, if I can. Or at least what the enchantment is.” He glanced at Wren’s guard, who’d been inching closer as they spoke, and was now only a few feet away. “If your…fears are allayed, I suppose you should head back to Myst now. I promise I’ll tell you what I discover.”

He looked back at Wren, and couldn’t help grinning at the look on her face. He’d take it. At least the death glare had driven away the fear for the moment.

“Well obviously I don’t object to you coming with me,” he said amicably. “But something tells me your father might.”

Wren waved a dismissive hand, then marched back to her horse. Basil kept pace with her, offering his cupped hands to throw her into the saddle. As soon as she was settled in place, she turned her steed’s head toward the now visible outskirts of the army camp.

Her poor guard gave what could only be described as a piteous groan. “Your Highness, please.”

Raising an eyebrow, Wren made a chivvying motion back toward the distant capital, then lifted one shoulder in a shrug. The message was clear.Go back if you want.Basil chuckled as he climbed back into his own saddle. He knew as well as Wren must do that her guard was in an impossible bind. He wasn’t going to leave her and her noblewoman friend with no one but the distrusted Entolian group.

“I’m not sure how it will go down when we try to cross the border,” Basil admitted to Wren, as they nudged their horses forward. “Obviously I intend to commence my inquiries on the Entolian side, and an unannounced visit from the Mistran princess might create a bit of a reaction.”

Wren frowned thoughtfully, then reached into a saddle bag and pulled out a long scarf. With some difficulty, keeping one hand on the pommel for balance, she wound it around her head, effectually trapping her wild hair.

Basil studied her dispassionately. “Hm,” he said. “It might work.”

He glanced overhead, where the two swans who’d accompanied Wren were cutting gracefully through the air. One sight of them, and it wouldn’t be hard for people to guess her identity, of course. But there wasn’t much to be done about that. And they weren’t sticking very close to her, like they normally did. He’d been surprised at the distance they’d kept, circling at a significant height the whole time the two groups spoke.

“Your Highness, I can’t allow it.”

Basil turned to see a look of great determination on the face of Wren’s sole guard. He’d pressed his horse up against Wren’s other side, and the poor man looked so harried, Basil couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

“With respect, Your Highness,” he said firmly, his gaze on Wren, “I’ve gone along with this mad scheme of yours only because I believe the king would prefer me to accompany you than leave you unprotected while I ride back to Myst for backup. But,” his face set in unyielding lines, “I cannot allow you to cross the border out of Mistra. If you attempt to do so, I will be forced to prevent you.”

Wren raised an expressive eyebrow, looking far from impressed. Her own determination radiated out from her, as did the poise Basil had always admired. Even the guard seemed to see it, because he quailed slightly—clearly not relishing the idea of hauling the princess bodily away from the border—but he stood firm. And Basil had to acknowledge that in doing so, the man was only honoring the duty he’d been given.

“He’s right,” Basil interjected. He winced internally at the betrayed look Wren directed at him, but continued steadily. “It won’t help anyone for you to start an international incident by crossing the border—and through a battleground—without your father’s knowledge. It’s actually better for us to split up. Now that you’re on board, we can investigate either side of the battleground simultaneously.”

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