Page 53 of Feathered Thief

Lenka nodded, trying to take in the profusion of orders. “Are the grooms simply napping or are they under a?—”

The fox vanished.

“—spell?” Lenka finished with a little sigh.

“The instructions seem clear enough,” Papa said.

“And this time I must follow them.” She nodded with reluctant conviction.

“Unless you must not.”

She turned to search Papa’s face. “What do you mean?”

His beard twitched as he twisted his lips in thought. “Do you believe this fox is honest and good?”

“No,” she admitted. “He is hateful, but he is our only guide.”

“Why?”

Lenka shook her head. “Why, what?”

“Why is a talking fox your guide? Who is the fox, and why is it helping you? No ordinary fox can carry humans around, running faster than the wind. Is it helping you or the other way around?”

Lenka frowned, so tired in spirit that she struggled to think straight. “Do you think he’s evil? He’s been guiding me.”

Papa drew a deep breath. “I can’t know a creature’s heart, but I can question his motives. What does this fox have to gain by your bringing him a bird or a horse?”

“Maybe he was their friend? I don’t know.” She sounded annoyed even to herself.

“What if this horse can speak as well? Why not ask its opinion before you decide, just as you did for the bird?”

She nodded, tears burning her eyes. “I will do my best, Papa.”

When she met his gaze, she saw those keen eyes soften. “I know you will, my brave girl.”

Suddenly weepy, she walked into his arms, and he gently held her, patting her back. “Now go and do what you know to be right.”

Lenka nodded, then turned on her heel and entered the courtyard through a gate in a tall brick wall. From there, she circled behind the castle, using trees and shrubs for cover in case anyone in the castle might peer out a window. She couldn’t help wondering why the place was so still. Sure, the groomswere enchanted, but what about the household servants and the family?

Lady Kornelia’s prince might be here,she thought. Not that I will know him if I see him. Aside from horses grazing in the pastures, she didn’t see a living soul, yet she felt watched.

After studying the stable block from hiding, she dashed across the open stretch of lawn, then slid along the side of the building, her heart racing. When she peered around a corner and saw booted feet, she nearly let out a yelp before ducking back. Nothing moved, yet she heard a sound she couldn’t identify, constant like a cat’s purr but louder. With the last of her meager courage, she leaned forward enough to see a man’s hat tipped over his face, revealing only the black-bearded chin resting on his chest, which rose up and down with each gentle lip-blubbing snore.

The stable hands were all napping, just as the fox predicted. Another man lay sprawled facedown atop a blanket chest, emitting an occasional snort.

Aware of time ticking past, Lenka slipped into the stable. A few more grooms and stable hands dozed in random places, but she no longer feared they would wake. The men were obviously enchanted, but the handsome horses were not. She peered into each stall in passing. Some horses calmly nibbled stray bits of hay or noisily chewed their grain. Others dozed with twitching ears.

And then, over the door of a huge box stall, she saw the most beautiful horse imaginable.

Muscles rippled in his shoulders, neck, and haunches, and his flanks glowed as if lighted from within. His ears pricked toward her, and his nostrils flared. Shimmering lashes framed his dark eyes, and his abundant mane and tail rippled like rivers of molten gold. Like the golden bird, he was a living, breathing work of art.

“Hello,” she greeted him quietly. “Would you like to come with me? Can you speak?”

His tail swished before he ambled across the roomy stall and thrust his head over the half door. His golden nostrils gently blew in her face and inhaled deeply, as if to catch her scent. Although she had no memory of horses from her past, she knew better than to lower her guard around a stallion. But somehow, as if remembering, she knew the right places to rub a horse, and they were soon friends. He wriggled his lips in approval when she scratched his neck beneath his mane.

“Hunh-huh-huh!How may I serve you, my friend? I am inexpressibly pleased to see you.”

Lenka froze, unable to think, let alone form words. Instead of speaking into her head like the bird did, the horse spoke aloud in a rich, slightly accented baritone, and his eyes twinkled. “You find me beautiful, do you not?” Those incredible lashes swept down and up as he blinked. “You may address me by my name, Geoffroi.”

---