Page 91 of Kingdom of Feathers

Wren didn’t reply. She was too wound up, too full of fear to have reassuring words. And she didn’t want to infect him with her panic. Whatever she said to her brothers, she’d really thought it would be midnight.

She helped Caleb back into the pond, then sat down at the water’s edge. For a long time she just sat, watching her brothers floating on the surface, out in the middle of the pond. She heard the clock strike one, and pulled her cloak more tightly around her. She couldn’t imagine she would be able to sleep, and didn’t even intend to try. But the day’s hard ride, and the various stresses of the preceding weeks had made her weary in mind, and she was glad enough to lay herself along the ground and let her thoughts drift while she waited for the sun.

“Wren. Wren?”

The familiar voice broke into Wren’s consciousness, and she shifted slightly. A warm hand gripped her arm, its touch reassuring somehow. But why was her bed so hard and uncomfortable?

“Wren, wake up.”

Basil. Her thoughts caught up with a jolt. What was Basil doing in her bedroom? Her eyes flew open, and she gasped at the tanned face hovering above her, hazel eyes piercing her, and disheveled waves of brown hair glinting in the light of early morning.

Early morning! Everything came rushing back, and Wren pushed herself upright with another gasp. Disregarding Basil, she spun wildly on the spot, her gaze fixating on the surface of the nearby pond.

With a sickening thud, her heart plummeted into her stomach.

Six swans floated on the surface of the water. Five of them were still asleep, heads tucked under their wings. But one was awake, a wing bent away from his body at an awkward angle, and his eyes fixed on Wren with a look that was much too knowing for a bird.

There was so much in that look. Reassurance, understanding. Devastating grief.

Wren could barely take any of it in. All she could comprehend was the horrible truth that it hadn’t worked. Dawn had unarguably arrived, and her brothers were still trapped in their avian forms. For six years she’d given it everything she had, and it hadn’t been enough.

“Wren? Are you all right?”

Basil’s tentative voice reminded her of his presence. Wren felt the tears welling up, and without even thinking about it, she turned and threw herself onto his chest. His arms flew up as instinctively as they had the time she’d attacked him on this very spot, but this time his grip didn’t restrain. Instead his arms closed around her, and he pulled her close.

Wren was hardly aware of the gesture. A storm had broken upon her, and she could do nothing but let it lash her with its fury. Abandoning any pretense of dignity she wept brokenly against Basil, her face buried in his chest, and her tears saturating his tunic.

He didn’t seem to mind. He just held her tightly, saying nothing and asking no questions as he let her ride the wave of her anguish. Finally, tortuously, her sobs slowed, and eventually stopped. She sniffled herself into stillness, but made no attempt to draw back from the warm security of Basil’s embrace.

Pressed flush against him as she was, she could feel the steady beat of his heart, and feel the warmth of his breath in her hair. In spite of everything, she felt safe. The last time she’d felt so safe had been when she was a child, who didn’t understand the dangers around her, and thought her big brother could protect her from everything.

The safety she felt in Basil’s arms wasn’t like her blind trust in Caleb, though. She knew perfectly well how dangerous her world was. And she knew that Basil couldn’t protect her from the storms, either physically or emotionally. But his steady presence told her that he would weather the storm with her, not flinching away either from her limitations or her pain. And that was a kind of security she’d never known before. The kind that had seemed impossible in her years of isolation. The kind that made her believe she had the strength to withstand whatever was thrown at her.

She straightened her back at last, lifting an arm to wipe the tears from her face.

But Basil beat her to it. His hand suddenly cupped her head, like it had done in the mine, and his thumb moved gently across her cheek, wiping away the moisture. The simple tenderness of the gesture made tears pool once again in Wren’s eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.

She met Basil’s gaze, and held it. His hazel eyes were clear and unblinking, and when she nodded in a silent gesture of gratitude, she knew he understood her. Basil asked her no questions, but suddenly the urge to bare her heart to him overwhelmed her, and she stepped out of his arms, pulling out her slate.

I know I can’t lean on you, but thank you for being here. With me.

Basil frowned at the words, his clear gaze passing back up to her. “Why can’t you lean on me?” he demanded unexpectedly. “I’d like nothing better.” His lips quirked up in a half smile that drew Wren’s eyes inevitably to them. “I don’t mean to belittle your distress, but it felt pretty nice when you leaned against me just now.”

Wren shot him an exasperated look. She was trying to be sentimental. Of course he had to ruin it with his bluntness. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she scrawled another message.

I meant emotionally, obviously. I know I’m not good for Entolia, but I can’t tell you what your friendship means to me.

That sobered him at once. “What does that mean, you’re not good for Entolia?”

Wren shrugged. Was he really going to make her explain it, when he was the one who’d declared it to be an insurmountable barrier? That was hardly chivalrous.

“No, don’t fob me off,” said Basil sharply. “What do you mean you’re not good for Entolia?”

Wren frowned, a little bewildered by his manner. She raised her hands helplessly, then tapped her throat to indicate her silence. And, unable to bring herself to look at them in their current form, she waved an arm back at her swan brothers.

Basil’s eyes followed her gestures, then settled back on her face. His evident confusion turned quite suddenly to a look of horror as he once again understood more than what she’d said.

“Wren!” he gasped, clearly aghast. “Is that what you thought I meant when I said we can’t be together? That your silence and your ridiculous birds somehow make you inadequate to be my queen?”

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