Page 15 of Feathered Thief

Geoffroi bobbed his head a few times, ears twitching. “Human minstrels make love sound foolish, hopeless, or tragic.”

“Why can’t someone write and sing poems or songs about happy marriages? I want to make Helena as happy as possible when we’re married. And maybe, once I inherit the duchy, I’llbe able to do something to help my father’s vassals, who are still paying for a war that happened before anyone they know was born.” Once he got started, the words poured out. “I especially want to help Helena’s father. Maybe I could relieve Zyrardów’s debt? And I would free all magical creatures, like you and Solara.”

Geoffroi shook his fabulous mane and pawed the earth with one huge hoof. “You make brave declarations, as humans do, but as I once counseled my eldest foal, ‘the proof of the hay is in the eating.’ Once you inherit your father’s duchy with all its treasures and intrigue, then we shall know your true worth.”

Kazik plopped down on a boulder—somewhat harder than he’d intended—and scrubbed both hands over his face, then up into his wild hair. A moment later, grass-scented breath and horse whiskers tickled his ear. “You do have choices, my friend. Make wise ones.”

When Kazik looked up, he was alone in the magic meadow.

5

BETROTHAL OR BETRAYAL?

When her father received yet another summons from the grand duke only weeks after they’d returned home, Helena begged to go along. She missed Kazik so much that she sometimes wondered if she could be losing her mind.

But King Ryszard firmly refused. “I shall be away only a few days, and I’ve found that traveling on horseback with my guards is more efficient than bothering with the carriage.”

“I’m an excellent horsewoman.”

“Yes, but you are not invited this time.”

She slumped into a chair. “So, I may never visit Mnisztwo Castle again?”

Her father sighed. “Helena, you are no longer a child who may sulk at every little disappointment. Times are difficult in our kingdom, and I must not annoy the grand duke in any way. He and Madame Euzebia did not expressly invite you, so I believe it wisernotto bring you unannounced.”

He sounded so tired and sad that she observed him more closely and noticed the gray in his hair and the lines on his face. Regret tweaked her heart. “I’m sorry, Papa. I know how hard you work for our kingdom, and what good care you take of me. I justget so . . . restless. But I promise to make good use of my time while you’re away.”

“Embroidering?” he asked.

She looked up, startled, and saw the twinkle in his eyes. “No,” she admitted, smiling. “I prefer riding and baking and making candy—whenBabkaallows me to play in the kitchen—and reading about history and science in your library . . . and ohhh, Papa, how I long to learn archery!”

“Now, that is quite an eclectic mix of pastimes, but none of it sounds excessively dangerous. I shall ask one of the archers to find a bow suitable for you, and you may practice in the gardens, away from the house.”

A bow and quiver of her own!! Helen’s heart exulted.

Papa was true to his word—while he was away, an older guard named Piotr gave her and two little servant boys archery lessons. She struggled to place an arrow anywhere on the target, but she kept trying, and it gave her something to do.

But everything changed when King Ryszard returned. That evening, he summoned Helena into his study, offered her a chair near the hearth, then sat opposite her and studied her face in the firelight.

“My dear daughter.” He stopped right there and swallowed hard, blinking several times. Fear gripped Helena by the throat. What terrible thing happened? Was Kazik ill? Had he been injured in one of the mock battles?

“The years have rushed past us,” the king continued, “and you seem to have grown into a woman while I wasn’t looking.” He sighed heavily. “You are beautiful like your mother, but you have the strength of a Tarnowski. You remind me of my grandmother, who could shoot a bow from horseback as well as any man.”

That made her smile. “I’m a terrible shot, Papa, but I’m learning.”

He chuckled, then wiped his eyes. “I have always known the day would come, yet it is a wrench to my heart.” After another deep sigh, he said, “You have received an offer of marriage.”

Hope and terror tangled in her heart. She couldn’t speak.

“Now, you must know,” he continued, “that I shall never force you to wed a man you fear or dislike. That said, this marriage might well be the saving of Zyrardów. While I was in Ostrów, the grand duke suggested a betrothal between you and Prince Kazimierz. If you are willing, the match would be most helpful to our country.”

Terror vanished, and hope exploded into joy that she did her best to moderate. “I’m willing,” she blurted. “Yes.”

Her father straightened in his chair, looking as if a great burden had just dropped from his shoulders. He bowed his head, and his lips moved. Was he praying? He looked up at her with tear-filled eyes. “Thank you, Helena. You are a brave and virtuous young woman. I shall communicate your answer to His Grace, and betrothal plans will commence.”

The Christmas holidays and the celebration of betrothal between Kazik and Helena finally arrived.

The journey to Ostrów was unpleasant, sometimes even frightening, for a terrible winter storm struck on their second day of travel, just two hours after their coach departed from the inn. Helena’s papa complained a good deal, his way of letting off steam. “Traveling through snow and sleet to set up a wedding that won’t happen until summer—pure foolishness! I would have thought Euzebia would encourage this match, not concoct reasons to delay the wedding.”

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