Page 79 of Kingdom of Feathers

Well, she might not be the unassailable sovereign of her kingdom, but she was its princess—as far as the general knew, its crown princess—and she wasn’t going to be intimidated.

As obtrusively as possible, she reached up and adjusted the chain around her neck. As she’d hoped, the general’s eyes were drawn to the signet ring lying against her gown, and she saw him fidget. She stared at him until he reluctantly met her eyes. If the general was going to refuse to recognize her rank, he would have to do so to her face.

The general’s scowl was back as they locked gazes, but still he didn’t outright refuse her. How could he? Impatient as she was to get started with the search, Wren felt a glow of satisfaction.It was hard to believe that such a short time ago she’d felt guilty at the very idea of using her supposed position to influence matters of state. She’d always felt it would be self-aggrandizing, and had dreaded having every word she’d spoken thrown back at her once Caleb’s presence was revealed to the court.

She thought very differently now. She wasn’t usurping Caleb’s place—she was minding it for him. If he could still speak into matters of import, he would, but his beak rather got in the way of that.

It was Basil who’d made her see her own folly. Not intentionally, of course. But like her, he’d been thrown into a position he wasn’t ready for—and by her guess, didn’t especially want. And it was clear that he was surrounded by people who didn’t have confidence in him, thanks to his youth. But he hadn’t let that lack of confidence cow him, as Wren had done. He had faith in himself, and was unhesitating in using his position of power to effect the change he thought was needed.

He didn’t always get it right, of course—he’d mishandled her father from the beginning, and she’d heard him acknowledge it more than once.

Nevertheless, somehow, even with all that confidence there was nothing self-aggrandizing about him. How many times had Wren seen him calmly take disrespect, or even outright insults, without letting it sway his decision? No, if there was one thing Basil had taught her, it was that ruling well wasn’t about ego. She’d thought that by not putting herself forward, she was being humble, and respecting Caleb’s claims instead of stealing his position. But she’d let her own doubts—and those of others—make her value herself too low. And that wasn’t humility. It was just a different kind of pride from rating her importance too high.

Caleb couldn’t do what needed to be done right now. Wren could, and neither the general’s disdain, nor her own doubts were going to stop her.

“Your Highness,” the general tried again, breaking their silent stand off at last. “Will you at least wait until I can send a courier to your father, to confirm—”

He broke off as Wren wrote calmly on her slate.

No, I will not.

She had no doubt that the general would send a message to her father immediately—if he hadn’t already—but she didn’t intend to wait for a reply. It would take the better part of two days.

The general looked more frustrated than ever, but he made no more protests. “Then I will, of course, accompany you,” he said stiffly.

Wren inclined her head graciously. She’d prefer not to have his escort, but she couldn’t exactly prevent him. Without another word, she sailed out of the tent, to where Lady Anneliese and the two Entolians were waiting for her. Wren gave a firm nod in response to her friend’s questioningly raised eyebrow, and a flash of admiration crossed Lady Anneliese’s face.

Bolstered, Wren turned to the enchantress Basil had left with her. She was about to pull her slate out, when the woman spoke.

“Your Highness,” she bobbed a quick curtsy, “I can feel it faintly even from here. Shall I lead you in the direction it seems to be coming from?”

Wren smiled encouragingly, and the two Entolians turned eastward.

Half a dozen soldiers accompanied the group, clearly bent on protecting their general as well as their princess. Wren could hear the older man muttering angrily alongside her, suspicious of their Entolian guides, but she ignored him. The enchantress led them through the camp, her eyes a little unfocused as she followed that extra sense that only magic-users had.

At the edge of the camp, there was a long trench, dug parallel to the invisible and contested border between the two kingdoms. Its edge was lined with lances jutting out at an angle toward the Entolian side, and it was a grim sight. Wren wondered if it might be the enchantress’s destination, but the woman turned to one of the soldiers, clearly seeking a way across. At his direction, they all climbed down into the trench. Wren had assumed it to be merely a physical barrier, so she was surprised to find it peopled with soldiers. They probably didn’t recognize her on sight, but they all stared wide eyed at the spectacle of the merchants leading two titled women through their battleground. The general, however, they certainly recognized. Every one of them sprang to attention when he came into view, and Wren saw a couple surreptitiously smoothing their uniforms.

The soldiers weren’t quite what Wren had expected. They didn’t look afraid, although that might have been because of the two month break from hostilities. Neither did they seem filled with determination to win, like the general was. They looked…settled, as if this was simply what they did every day. She realized, with a wave of sadness, that it was. How long had these men been here? Years of a barely moving war must take a strange kind of toll on a life. She set her face determinedly to where the two Entolians were climbing up a roughly dug earth staircase to the other side of the trench.

All the more reason to end this conflict.

Reaching the top of the steps, Wren glanced back at the soldiers in the trench. Their apathy was gone, a row of fearful faces turned toward her. She supposed it must be strange for them to see someone as important as their general heading out into no man’s land. They knew, of course, that the two armies were in a temporary ceasefire. She could only assume that going past the trench was so strongly associated with danger, they couldn’t help the instinctive reaction.

Wren felt a certain foreboding herself, as they moved out into the scarred and damaged landscape of the space between the armies. They didn’t strike out into the unclaimed ground, instead moving alongside the trench. Nevertheless, the surface was so uneven, they had to move slowly. Wren could see signs of previous trenches, only partially filled in, presumably marking earlier battle lines.

“Princess Wren.”

Lady Anneliese’s soft voice startled Wren, drawing her gaze from the barren landscape. The other woman looked troubled, and Wren wondered if she was uncomfortable to be so near the battleground. With a flash of remorse, Wren reflected that she’d never really given the noblewoman the opportunity to bow out of the adventure.

“This may not be the best time,” Lady Anneliese continued, picking her way carefully around a patch of foul-smelling mud. “But I don’t feel right to keep it from you. I had hoped opportunity would present itself when we were at the manor, but…” She drew a deep breath. “I’ve accepted Sir Gelding’s offer.”

Wren swung around to stare at her friend, stumbling on a hidden hole. Her guard appeared from nowhere to steady her, and she gave him a distracted nod of thanks. Most of her attention was on Lady Anneliese, who looked even paler than usual at Wren’s response.

“I’m sorry if you’re disappointed in me, Your Highness,” she said, sounding almost tearful. “And I will miss you very much when I leave Myst. But…” She swallowed. “I don’t think I can stand to stay in the capital forever. Not when every time I turn a corner, I’m reminded of…” She paused, pulling herself together. “I don’t think there’s any other way I can get this kind of distance.”

Panic was rising in Wren—she should have been paying more attention to Lady Anneliese’s situation, but she’d been so distracted by her own troubles. They were days from Caleb’s release! She knew with horrible certainty that Lady Anneliese was much too honorable to pull back from a betrothal, even once Caleb’s survival was revealed.

She could see that the noblewoman was on the verge of tears at her prolonged lack of response, so she reached out and gave her friend’s arm a tentative squeeze. She didn’t want Lady Anneliese to think she blamed her for any of this mess. But it was still the last thing she’d wanted to hear at that moment.

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