Page 23 of Feathered Thief

It had been a guess, but she wasn’t about to admit that. At least she no longer felt entirely out of her mind. “I’m nobody important. I’ve never sensed magic like yours before.”

Was she confused, or were several kinds of magic jumbled up in this orchard?

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

“Should I be?”

Bogumil waved off the question. “Certainly not. I do have some fay blood, but I was born in this world. I have no desire to invade, devour, or destroy anything.” After a pause he added, “And I never drag mortals into the fay dimension.”

Helena’s brow creased. “Good to know.” She had never dreamed of anything as monstrous as his comforting assurances suggested. “I thought fairies were tiny people living in flowers, not interdimensional fiends.” Obviously, her magical education was lacking.

“Oh, those are only one kind of fay creature.”

She suddenly wanted to see his face. Then again, if he was one of those fiends . . . No, she really didn’t want to know.

“Are you sure I’m not dreaming?”

The hooded figure’s head tilted. “Why do you keep asking useless questions? Next time you wonder if you’re dreaming, pinch yourself.” He nodded as if approving his own suggestion. “Now, please tell me”—his voice became gentle and persuasive—“why were you weeping in this orchard of golden-apple trees?”

“Golden apples?” As if in a dream, she looked up, and for the first time she noticed an apple gleaming as gold as Solara and Geoffroi. “Ohhh!” she sighed, remembering her magical friends.

Then . . . not. “My betrothed forsook me to marry a great beauty from a powerful family.”

“And your heart is broken?” Bogumil inquired in a businesslike tone.

“Yes. I thought a boy loved me, but he gave in to his father’s will.”

What a tragic story! A fresh tear burned a pathway down her cheek, and others quickly followed. The tree’s concern wrapped around Helena even as she wondered what girl had been jilted.Remember truth,the tree spoke into her head.Remember his love.

“He loves me,” Helena stated with confidence. “I love him too.”

The mage scratched his head right through his hood. “You seem confused.”

“Oh, but I’m not.” She was quite sure that she had a clue. Somewhere.

“Do you know his name?”

“Whose name?”

“Hmm. Do you know your name?”

She tried to think, but it hurt. “Um . . . no. Does it matter?” She pressed closer to her tree, who soothed her.

Bogumil nodded sagely. “Someone has enchanted you to forget. It will wear off someday. I can’t counteract the spell, but Icanremove you from this tangled nest of evil and enchantments. Would you prefer a simple life of productive work in a kingdom filled with good, honest, hardworking people? I grew up there.”

“Maybe.” It did sound tempting, but she couldn’t lose her only friend. “I need my tree. Do they have magical gardens?”

“Oh yes, everyone will welcome you and the tree. So, do you choose to be free of your painful past?” Bogumil’s sympathetic voice encouraged her to trust him, and her kind apple tree held her close.

“Yes.”

8

BETRAYAL AND RESISTANCE

After the melee, Kazik stood beside the grand duke, aching in every muscle, bone, and sinew. He longed to rush to Helena, but first he had to observe the tournament’s closing program. Once it finally ended, he and his father hurried to see off important guests from the castle’s front steps.

At some point during these activities, something in his father’s manner tipped Kazik off. Maybe the spark in his eye? The man was hiding something, and it could not be good.

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