Page 93 of Kingdom of Feathers

He might be right after all. For six years she’d stubbornly refused to train to be queen, insisting in the privacy of her mind that Caleb would take his rightful place. But six years was up, and he hadn’t been freed from the curse. And even she had to acknowledge that a swan couldn’t become king of Mistra. Would she have to be her father’s heir after all? A position which she didn’t want, which she’d refused to prepare for, and which might now separate her from the man she loved?

She raised her hands to cover her face as a fresh wave of despair washed over her. She was so caught up in her anguish, she hardly heard the loud cracking sound above her. Looking up in a daze, she could do nothing but stare stupidly at the enormous branch dangling loosely directly above her head.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Basil’s eyes darted up as a loud snap rent the air. At sight of the massive tree limb hurtling toward Wren, he let out a cry and dove at her. But Wren had stepped away from him when she’d been gripped by whatever silent realization had turned her laughter into despair, and in the split second before the branch hit her, he knew he wouldn’t be fast enough.

Except, the branch didn’t hit her.

She was too stunned to even leap out of the way, staring up at it like a moth hypnotized by flame. But instead of crushing her, the huge branch seemed to glance off an invisible shield just above her head. It fell at a strange angle to one side of her, crashing harmlessly into the reeds at the water’s edge.

Wren’s wide eyes passed from the branch to Basil’s face, nothing in her expression except shock. Then, slowly, she moved one hand up to her throat, and tugged at the chain around her neck. The heavy signet ring popped out from under her gown, and Basil stared at it, his breath coming in uneven pants.

The protective enchantment on the artifact had saved her. Basil felt weak with relief, but the emotion was mingled with horror at the realization that if she hadn’t been wearing it, he wouldn’t have been able to prevent her being crushed before his eyes.

And there was no way that branch had fallen by mere chance.

As that certainty grew within him, so did the anger. Someone had just tried to kill Wren, right in front of him. And it wasn’t the first time, either. He stepped instinctively toward her, one arm shooting out to pull her close even as his head whipped around them, searching for any sign of someone lurking nearby.

“Plants again,” Basil muttered darkly. He wondered if their guess was correct, that Sir Gelding was somehow using the power of the Entolian enchanter whose farm had been overrun by the battlefield. Was Sir Gelding here right now, lurking out of sight somewhere, wielding his borrowed magic? Basil wished Sergeant Obsidian had been with him. He might have been able to follow the magic back to its source, like he’d done at the battleground.

He’d barely grasped hold of Wren when the pair of them were mobbed by a flurry of feathers. The swans had obviously witnessed what had happened, and it had set off their bizarre protectiveness for Wren. They clustered around her, trumpeting and flapping their wings in agitation. The strangeness of her manner as she laid a hand against each of them tugged at Basil’s mind, but he didn’t give in to his curiosity. He had much more important things to think about than the swans.

Basil hadn’t bothered to count the swans, but he realized when one suddenly dropped from the sky at Wren’s side that they hadn’t all been hovering around her. The swan pressed itself against the princess’s legs, bugling urgently. Basil squinted at it, fairly sure that it was the one which so often followed him around. Suddenly Wren’s eyes widened, and she dove for her slate again. Her hands flew over it with such speed that Basil could hardly read the message she shoved toward him.

Sir Gelding. He’s here, but he’s escaping.

“How do you know?” Basil asked sharply.

But Wren was already running, following the swan as it once again took to the air. Basil raced after her, his heart pounding in his chest at the thought of Wren chasing down the man who might be trying to kill her.

The swan had disappeared now, but Wren seemed to know where she was going. She sprinted through the garden without hesitation, and a moment later, they were rewarded by the sound of an angry trumpet followed by a sharp yell.

A confused mass of limbs and wings appeared from an enormous shrub in the path before them, resolving itself into the form of the dark-haired enchanter wrestling with the swan.

“What…magic…is on…these…birds?” he grunted, apparently not yet aware of his human audience.

Basil saw Wren’s eyes widen at the question, and she lunged forward and pulled the bird off Sir Gelding. For a moment she just stared into its eyes, then the swan took off like an arrow, speeding back toward the pond.

Basil was only vaguely aware of Wren’s interaction with her bird, his eyes narrowed upon Sir Gelding.

“Going for a morning stroll, Sir Enchanter?” he asked darkly.

The enchanter brushed off his disheveled clothes with unnecessary force. “As a matter of fact, I am, Your Majesty.” His eyes rested on Wren, and he made no attempt to hide his distaste. “I’m afraid King Lloyd will have little choice but to have those swans shot if they’re going to start attacking members of his court.”

“Save the act,” spat Basil. “We’ve seen the mine. We know everything.” He was aware that statement was stretching the truth at best, but it wouldn’t hurt for Sir Gelding to feel a little fear.

The nobleman froze, but he looked quite calmly between the two royals. “Mine?” he asked smoothly. “What mine?”

“The one where you’ve been mining not only iron, but fire jasper worth enough to fund a small kingdom,” said Basil pleasantly. He took a step forward, and the nobleman’s hand flicked toward his pocket, as if in instinct. Basil followed the gesture with his eyes. “What, going to pull out an artifact, Sir Enchanter?” he asked calmly. His gaze rested on the nobleman’s hand, and he raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of fire jasper, that’s an unusual set of rings. Did you steal them from your king’s side of the border, or from mine?”

“Oh, so you’ve settled on a border have you, Your Majesty?” the baronet asked nastily. “I didn’t realize you’d been so productive while in Myst. I thought your time had been whiled away in other…” his gaze passed to Wren, “dalliances.”

A growl built in Basil’s throat, but he bit it back. He could feel Wren’s anger at his side, and his own fist clenched as he took a menacing step toward Sir Gelding. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten your attacks on your own princess,” he spat out. “King Lloyd will hear all about that. What did you do? Harvest power over plants from that disgruntled Entolian enchanter whose farm was swallowed up in the war?”

Sir Gelding said nothing, but Basil thought he looked a little rattled at this evidence of Basil’s information.

“And yet,” Basil pressed, “all you’ve got to show for it is two failures. Did you forget about the protective artifact worn by the king’s heir, or aren’t you an important enough noble to know about it?”

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