Page 11 of Feathered Thief

She did her best to maintain a pleasant expression and attitude while they made their excuses and headed back totheir usual guest suite. But once she entered her private rooms, worries seemed to multiply. What if she didn’t get to speak with Kazik for the rest of her visit? He would be in training every day.

After her assigned maid left her alone, she felt ashamed of herself for moping. Heaving a little sigh, she blew out her candle and opened the window shutters, grateful for the fresh night air. Distant laughter drifted to her ears, along with an owl’s hoot and the haunting cry of a fox. Her room in the southeast tower overlooked the gardens, which appeared rather ghostly by starlight. She shivered a little in her chemise, trying to swallow the ache of disappointment in her chest.

As a host, Kazik was obliged to speak with many people. What with his military training and social obligations, he was unlikely to speak with her privately during this visit. Sure, they would meet in the evenings, but always among dozens of chattering people.

Then his impulsive compliment played in her mind and blazed through her heart. Pressing her hand over the spot, she whispered, “I think he does really care for me.”

A sudden flare of light nearly blinded her. She staggered back a step or two before her mind registered that a glowing golden bird perched on the windowsill. “Solara!”

“Good evening, Princess Helena of Zyrardów. I am most pleased to see you again.” The bird glanced around and ruffled her feathers with a musical jingle. “Your chambers here are hardly grand.”

“I like this tower room. It’s comfortable.” Feeling a bit defensive, she added, “Our country is in debt, so we don’t live lavishly at home either.”

The bird cocked her head. “Yet I understand that King Ryszard built your mother a fabulous bathhouse at Castle Valga as a wedding gift, bringing in stonemasons and mages fromacross the land to create a wedding gift she would treasure all her life.”

“My oldnianiaonce told me about it,” Helena admitted. “She said that Mama—Queen Krystyna—swam and bathed in its pools every day. When Mama died of a wasting disease, Papa had the door to the bathhouse locked and chained shut.” She ended with a wistful sigh.

“Was that not a selfish thing to do?” Solara asked. “He prevents his daughter from enjoying those pools and the beauty of his gift.”

The question worried her. “I do wish I may see the bathhouse someday, but I don’t want to hurt my Papa. He’s already sad.”

“Hmm.” Solara fluffed out her feathers. “Are you pleased to be with Prince Kazimierz again?”

Feeling warm all over, she said, “Very pleased. I think he is a kind and good prince.”

“Yes. He is also wiser than I knew.” When Solara twitched her long tail, its feathers sounded like distant bells. “Child, I do believe you will come through the fires as gold.”

With that, she flickered out like a flame.

Just as Helena had feared, military training at the barracks devoured most of Kazik’s time. He and the other boys presumably practiced sword drills, struck targets with lances while on horseback, and otherwise learned how to battle all day long, every day but Sundays. Not that she was allowed to watch. Young ladies could never visit such a bastion of men.

Girls of Helena’s age were expected to remain indoors, supervise the younger children of guests, or do needlework withthe ladies. Thanks to her dearly departedniania, Helena knew how to embroider with silk threads. She could be trusted to work on a fine tapestry without mishap, but her heart was not invested. Stitching dogs on the hunt or knights on horseback was deadly dull compared to watching real dogs and knights and horses in action.

Four days into her weeklong visit, Helena had seen the newly cleared tournament field and archery ranges only from above and with many trees and shrubs blocking the view. Would she ever be allowed to watch Kazik in action? Not just practice drills but maybe a real joust or a race. Frustrated by tangled threads, she heaved more than one deep sigh.

Boredom reigned supreme until the unwary ladies took a break from their stitching and Helena made her own break onto the terrace and down several sets of stairs. If anyone were to see and report her escape to her father, she would probably lose all freedom for the rest of her visit. Kazik might not even be practicing at that hour, but she simply couldn’t miss the possibility.

From halfway down the terraced hillside, Helena could see one row of targets—coiled-straw mats fastened to wooden tripods— partway across the field, and another row of butts was located at its far end. Helena saw those targets as tiny dots.

A group of archers must be lined up below, but so close to her position that she couldn’t see them. She heard a man shout twice, and the archers raised their bows. Another shout, and a cloud of arrows flew toward the targets.

The next time the men released their arrows, Helena hurried down more steps until she reached a stone terrace that afforded her a clear view and shade. She easily picked Kazik out of the young men of all sizes and shapes. His shoulders were wider than anyone else’s. She had never noticed that before. When hepulled off his cap, shook his head, and wiped his face on his sleeve, his hair looked dark with sweat.

She crouched there behind the balusters as the archers prepared to shoot, and this time clearly heard the commands: “Nock. Draw. Loose!”

Watching those arrows hit or miss the targets fascinated her, and she suddenly longed to try it. Archery didn’t look particularly difficult, and Kazik had once told her she might be good at it.

She could hear the boys and men exchange grudging compliments or helpful suggestions after a round of shots, but mostly they mocked and teased, and the instructors only ever criticized. Some of Kazik’s arrows hit the center of his target, but a few landed on the outer edges, and the last one missed entirely.

He kicked the dirt in frustration. When he suddenly turned and looked up in her direction, Helena gasped and ducked. Had he glimpsed her through the balusters?

He didn’t visibly react, so she hoped not. When ordered, the trainees collected their arrows, and Kazik was first to return to the line. When the next round began, his first shot hit the target’s center. So did the next one, and the next. By the end of that round, his arrows filled the central braided coils on the target.

“Good work, all of you. And congratulations on a nearly perfect round, Your Royal Highness,” the instructor called. “Everyone, collect your arrows, then take a break.”

The squad of young noblemen broke into raucous shouts as they obeyed, and the instructors followed. Heart in her mouth, Helena scuttled down the last flight of stone stairs and barely reached a tree to hide behind before they charged past. But she needn’t have worried: the few who glimpsed and knew her called greetings, and everyone else knew enough to watch theirlanguage and be polite in the presence of a lady, even if she wasn’t supposed to be there.

Kazik hurried toward her, beckoning. “Come on. I’ll show you how to shoot.”

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