Page 89 of Kingdom of Feathers

“Wait,” said Basil, and Lord Baldwin paused. “What did you come in here to tell me?”

“What I’ve already said,” Lord Baldwin answered, not quite meeting Basil’s eye. “That I have great respect for you, and great confidence in your rule.”

“Lord Baldwin.” Basil made no attempt to hide his exasperation. “Have you forgotten how much I dislike anything less than total honesty?”

Lord Baldwin’s smile was pained. “In this case, Your Majesty, you wouldn’t like total honesty either.”

And with those cryptic words, he bowed himself out of the room.

Basil stared after him, bemused and frustrated. He wished he hadn’t drawn the nobleman’s attention to Wren’s descent from her window, because before that point he’d been sure Lord Baldwin had nerved himself up to say whatever was on his mind. Basil’s gaze drifted back to the moonlit gardens. The obvious conclusion was that whatever Lord Baldwin had left unsaid had related to Wren. Basil felt his face set in grim lines. Perhaps Lord Baldwin was right, and this was one occasion where he didn’t want to hear the other man’s honest opinion.

Dismissing the matter temporarily from his mind, he let his thoughts fly back to Wren. If he strained his ears, he thought he could hear distant splashes, like wings on the surface of a pond.

He sighed. Lord Baldwin was right. An attempt to wander through the castle and join the princess for a midnight tryst would surely lead at best to conflict between the Mistran and Entolian guards currently outside his rooms, and at worst to a full scale war between the kingdoms. He pulled the window up, wincing as it groaned loudly, and peered down the wall. There were solid looking vines growing up this section of castle. He could probably climb down just as Wren had done, and no one would be the wiser.

After a moment’s consideration, he reluctantly abandoned the idea. His own experience had just proved that anyone could be watching from the many windows that faced inward into the gardens. If he was observed meeting the princess in the dead of night, it would do neither Entolia, nor Wren herself, any favors.

He didn’t intend to tamely sit by and let King Lloyd prevent contact between him and Wren though, he thought with determination. He had enough propriety to avoid doing so at midnight, but at first light, he was climbing down the creeper and going looking for her, without the escort of either set of guards.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Wren lay unmoving in her bed, her eyes squeezed shut a little too tightly to be convincing. She couldn’t help it—inwardly she was still fuming too violently to fully relax her body.

She tried to make allowances for her father’s fears, but this was a new level of unreasonable. Confined to her room with armed guards at the entrance to keep her in…she may as well be locked in the dungeons.

As her father most likely intended Basil to be, come morning.

Wren’s stomach churned uncomfortably. The trouble she’d brought down on Basil’s head was the worst part of her whole adventure. She’d forced her father to read her meticulously written out description of what really happened at least five times, but he was still determined to behave as though Basil had deceived him with his plans, and abducted Wren right from the castle.

Not to mention poor Lady Anneliese was now in disfavor with the king and queen. The noblewoman’s own parents had looked just about ready to murder her. Not that Lady Anneliese had shown much distress over that. Judging by the rigid air of shock she’d worn for the last couple of days, Wren deduced that her friend was still reeling from the accusations Wren had confided in her regarding the man she’d just agreed to marry. Not that she’d be marrying Sir Gelding once Wren’s father had him arrested.

Which brought Wren right back to the source of her frustrations. She could still see the impatience in her father’s eyes as he probed her story over and over, demanding what proof she had against the enchanter. Truth be told, Wren hadn’t realized until her father pressed her just how little proof she actually had. It had seemed so clear, and so obvious, when she’d been down in the mine with Basil. She’d had no doubt whatsoever that the enchanter was behind it all, or at the very least involved.

But it seemed that King Lloyd didn’t consider Basil’s word that the Entolian crown hadn’t built the mine very convincing evidence.

Wren had tried arguing that the general himself told her that Sir Gelding had visited the site. While her father assured her he would be discussing the matter extensively with the general himself, he found even that information less compelling than Wren had hoped. According to her own account, the spot Sir Gelding had inspected hadn’t been a true entrance to the mine. The only entrance she’d actually found had been on Entolia’s side of the battleground.

That point had certainly made Wren pause. For a while she’d been stumped as to why Sir Gelding had visited that particular point. But eventually it hit her—it must be the place where the army’s territory came closest to impinging on the mine. Presumably Sir Gelding’s visits to “inspect the ore” were actually intended to check whether the mine was secure, and not at risk of discovery by the army. Wren had no doubt Sir Gelding’s visits had also included actual attendance at the mine via a clandestine entrance on the Mistran side.

However, given this argument was not only speculation on her part, but was a theory she’d clearly come up with in the course of their conversation, Wren wasn’t really surprised her father hadn’t given it much weight.

She wasn’t sure what frustrated her more—her father’s flat refusal to believe her, or her mother’s refusal to weigh in at all. Worse than either, though, were all her father’s comments about Basil being a snake who had clearly intended from the beginning to lure away Wren’s allegiance. She squirmed in her bed at the memory. Although he hadn’t used the words, he clearly believed that Wren was besotted, and that it was a result of some kind of attempt by Basil to seduce her.

If only, Wren thought, her mind flying to the moment she and Basil had shared in the mine, and his outright declaration that they couldn’t be together. The thought was flippant, but it nevertheless sent a flush of embarrassment over Wren. Of course she was glad Basil wasn’t trying to seduce her. But the memory of his hesitation still stung more than she liked to admit to herself. When he’d laid his hand against her cheek, and looked into her eyes with that steady gaze of his, any remaining denial within her had fled. She’d fallen hard for Entolia’s young king, and there was no turning back. And for a moment, she’d really believed that he felt the same, that he saw past her enforced oddities enough to actually want her.

He’d said he wanted to kiss her, hadn’t he? The answer came back immediately. Whatever he’d said, he hadn’t kissed her. He’d said she was hard to ignore, as well. Clearly he was trying his utmost to ignore her, to ignore the attraction he claimed to feel.

Thanks to who I am, we both know I can’t, he’d said, so simply, as if he was in no doubt that she understood.

But she hadn’t understood, not at the time. It had taken her an embarrassingly large portion of the ride back to Myst to grasp what he’d meant. He was the king of Entolia. She knew he felt the connection between them as strongly as she did. But he was also one of the most practical people she knew, and she didn’t doubt that he would put the interests of his kingdom before his own heart. And while personally he might be willing look past her eccentric silence, and her pet swans, he couldn’t do so on behalf of Entolia. She wasn’t a fit queen for his kingdom in her current state.

She understood the reasoning. She could even respect it. But it stung, nonetheless. And the knowledge that she would soon be able to emerge from her self-imposed silence didn’t remove that sting in the least.

And as if she didn’t feel wretched enough already, the betrayal in her mother’s eyes as she read Wren’s confession about how she’d given them all the slip made Wren feel worse than all the rest. Her mother had opened up to her about how terrified she was of losing the daughter whom she believed to be her only surviving child, and Wren had thrown it in her face by running away and putting herself in harm’s way.Tomorrow, Wren promised herself.Tomorrow you’ll be able to explain it all, and she’ll understand that you wouldn’t have put yourself in danger for any less cause than keeping the boys safe.

And with that thought, all other considerations melted away. She’d pushed hard on the journey home for good reason. She wasn’t likely to lose track of the date, not with the six year deadline so close. She’d been determined to make it back to Myst in time for the day she’d waited for all those years.

And now it was mere minutes away.

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