Page 2 of Feathered Thief

“Using my magic, of course. If you study hard, princeling, you may someday become as powerful as I—” Geoffroi paused, squinting in deep thought. “Then again, perhaps itispossible to set your sights too high.”

“Ha, ha.” Kazik rolled his eyes.

“So, why not be the hardest-working and most successfulcarovenyou can be? Your magic may not be as powerful as your mother’s, but I detect significantly more latent power in you than your father or grandfather will ever have to work with.Ifyou study and train as you should, you may become an influence for good in this world.”

Kazik glowered. “You lecture just like my mother.”

“Do I?” Geoffroi’s ears pricked. “You flatter me.”

Ignoring that remark, Kazik pursued romantic advice. “You’re a grownup. I mean, you’re really old, aren’t you?”

“Older than you by a good bit.” Geoffroi flicked his tail and lowered his head to graze. “Climb up,” he offered through a mouthful of clover.

Kazik knew exactly how to mount the huge horse. Grasping a hank of golden mane in one hand, he jumped high enough to grab Geoffroi’s withers with the other hand, swung one leg up, and somehow scrambled the rest of the way. The fay horse’s back was warm and silky. Kazik lay back to gaze at the sky, letting his arms hang down. “Can you advise me about girls? I mean, the mares all seem to love you.”

“How could they not? I am Geoffroi the Magnificent!”

Recognizing that tone, Kazik instantly clamped his arms and legs to hold on while the stallion tossed his fabulous mane, arched his powerful neck, and pranced in place. A deep squeal, a “Huh-huh-huh,” and a snort always followed.

Once Geoffroi resumed grazing, Kazik continued where he’d left off: “But when I talk like you, Helena looks disgusted.”

“Perhaps this is because you are disgusting. You should jump into the lake here and wash off your stink, then put on some clothing a human filly might find attractive. You might offer her a gift to express your devotion.”

A gift again. Kazik rolled his eyes. “I could show her the dried-up frog I found in the Great Hall last week.”

“I suggest a love offering, andyouoffer a desiccated amphibian? You’ll never win a female that way.”

“Then what can I give her?”

“Kindness, perhaps?”

“Everyone would laugh at me,” Kazik growled.

“Then I ask, is she pleased when you mock and pester her?”

“You sound just like my mother.” Kazik sat upright on the horse’s broad back to defend himself. “Czwarty told me girls like to be tormented. It makes them feel important.”

“Does your girl enjoy being tormented?”

“Uhhh, I don’t know.” He scowled.

“You don’t know.” Incredulity laced the stallion’s deep voice.

“She’s too thin-skinned.”

Geoffroi rolled his eyes, tipped his ears back, and snorted. “Not even I can help if you defend your mistakes. As I recall, your birthday is soon. I suggest you seize this opportunity to win her favor. Look for ways to offer kindness. Think of her ahead of yourself.”

Kazik heaved a sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

But when Geoffroi gave him the side-eye, ears tipping back, Kazik recanted, “I will. I will be kind. I will try to think about what she likes.”

If her father hadn’t constantly reminded Helena to behave like a lady, she might have enjoyed her visits at Mnisztwo Castle more. And if her mother had lived long enough for Helena to remember her, she might have a clue how to relate to the unofficial social group of royal and noble offspring she was unwillingly thrown into at least once each year.

Not until last year’s visit, when she was ten years old, had Helena begun to connect her peers with their respective parents and siblings, let alone understand which countries those parents ruled. Three vassal states, including her own country, were part of Wroclaw, but Kazimierz’s father, the Grand Duke of Ostrów, held authority over them all—andhewas second in power tohisfather, the archduke, an old man who lived way up north somewhere in a grand palace near the north sea.

Helena’s father had explained “vassalage” to her once, something about an immense war debt from more than a century ago, but she didn’t understand or care. She did know that he was King of Zyrardów—mountainous and remote but the largest country in Wroclaw by land mass—and that it shared a border with every one of the other countries.

The Prince of Starogard, the country south of Zyrardów, had seven children: two daughters, Jadwiga and Ludmila, along with five boys. Two of those princes were older than Helena—Prince Szymon IV and Prince Twardoslaw, who respectively went by Czwarty (fourth) and Twardo—and the other three princes were too young to matter.

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