Page 29 of Feathered Thief

“This is my first attempt at a complex combination curse,” Bogumil admitted. “Choosing its name has proven more difficult than expected. Now, go and find the golden princess.”

Kazik didn’t bother to fight the compulsion in the mage’s voice. After all, he wanted to find Helena, and he intended to be the one to wake her. She wouldn’t be sticking around to get kissed by anyone else.

He first checked the stables and found dormant horses, stable hands, the coachman, dogs, and cats scattered about. As far as he could tell, not even the mice were awake. The king’s coach was parked in the coach house—he recognized it, still dirty from travel. Exactly when had King Ryszard and Helena left Mnisztwo Castle? They couldn’t have arrived home very long before Kazik rode through the gates.

He’d asked Helena to wait for him in Geoffroi’s pocket world. How long had she waited before she realized he wasn’t coming? He didn’t look forward to explaining his failure to meet her, but at least then she would know he hadn’t forgotten her. And once he kissed her awake, everything else should fall into place.

As he searched, he felt sad that he’d never seen the inside of Helena’s home before; there had always been some excuse preventing a visit. Of course, his father had never intended the betrothal to end in marriage. Apparently, the grand duke’s friendship with King Ryszard mattered only as it benefited his ambitions.

Had his father ever really loved his mother? They had always been respectful to each other in his presence, and he’d seen his father’s expression soften when he looked at his wife. But did he truly love her? Did she love and respect him? Kazik had never seriously considered their relationship before.

How self-absorbed was that?

Kazik didn’t know the first thing about being a husband. Maybe Helena and he understood each other reasonably well for two overgrown children who’d exchanged a few words, held hands on rare occasions, and promised before a crowd to love each other . . . but that wasn’t saying much. He couldn’t begin to explain his devotion to her with words that would make sense to anyone else. He simply knew that Helena Tarnowska was the only girl he would ever marry.

He hadn’t chosen her only for her gorgeous hair and smile and eyes and skin and . . . yeah, everything else. She was also brave and independent and intelligent and kind and . . . well, he believed they had a deeper connection that words couldn’t describe. As if someone had planned the two of them for each other.

Such thoughts filled his head while he scoured every level, room, passage, stairwell, corridor, closet, and cupboard of Castle Valga in search of his intended bride.

Sleeping guards and servants dotted the hallways and cluttered the kitchens. Some of the rooms were well lit, but Bogumil’s lantern came in handy in the dark corridors and staircases. Its light flickered across inert bodies in nearly every room and passage. Partway up one spiral staircase he found the lamplighter sound asleep, his wick still glowing.

Kazik grimly focused on finding Helena, refusing to let the weirdness faze him.

In the royal chambers, he found King Ryszard asleep in his armchair in a drawing room, with two spaniels dozing in his lap and a large hound at his stockinged feet, which extended toward the shimmering coals on the hearth. Even the fire seemed to burn in its sleep.

Farther along that corridor, he found a suite of rooms that Kazik knew must be Helena’s. A fire burned in the sittingroom, but only one candle lamp illuminated her bedchamber. Silky blue cloth curtained her platform bed. Tapestries depicting horses and flowers lined the walls, and a collection of toy birds and animals cluttered her dressing table. Sadly, the little horse he’d carved for her years ago wasn’t among them.

Where was his princess? He combed her suite and then the entire castle from top to bottom all over again. When he located a door chained shut in the castle’s basement, he first suspected Helena might be imprisoned there. But that made no sense.

Maybe a monster lurked beyond that door? The silence and solitude worked on his imagination.

Setting his jaw, he used a mental trick he’d figured out before he even knew magic was a thing—and opened the padlock.

What lay beyond that door took him by surprise. A tunnel cut through solid stone exited into a high-ceilinged cave brimming with magic. Wardrobes full of women’s garments and shoes lined its walls. Kazik thought the clothing looked too mature for Helena, but he was no judge of fashion. His reflection in an unnaturally flawless wall of mirrors startled him; he scowled at his own dirty face.

The distant roar of water drew his attention to another stone corridor, which he followed, almost mesmerized by shimmering ambient light.

He emerged into a wonderland. Before him lay an indoor-outdoor luxury spa of pools, luminous hot springs, and waterfalls somehow positioned between the castle’s back wall and the steep hillside. Who would lock away such a marvel? Nothing about it seemed dangerous or illicit.

But of what use was a magical spa? He’d discovered no evidence whatsoever that Helena returned home with her father. What if she never left Mnisztwo Castle?

But why would King Ryszard drive off without his only child? Was he forced to leave? If Helena hid somewhere in the gardensbehind Mnisztwo Castle and waited for Kazik like he’d asked her to do, she must think he’d deserted her! What a fool he was!

Back in the Great Hall, he found the council mage pacing the flagstones. “Princess Helena isn’t here,” Kazik told him outright. “The king is sound asleep in his chambers, and I found many sleeping servants, but no princess. I’ve got to go find her.”

The fay mage’s expression turned thunderous. “Shemustbe here! Yesterday, I stood invisible in your father’s Council Chamber when he told King Ryszard the betrothal was broken.”

“What happened next?”

“The king called for his coach and left.”

“Did the princess go with him?”

“He certainly wouldn’t have left without his daughter. He was furious!”

Kazik wanted to say “Never assume,” but he’d made the same assumption, so he asked the mage, “Did you ever see her at Mnisztwo Castle? She is quite tall—taller than I am—and very slim. Her hair is golden, and her eyes are blue.”

Bogumil went still. “Was she wearing blue?”

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