Page 62 of Feathered Thief

“Thank you. I would like to walk in the gardens. Fresh air sounds good.” Helena spoke with her gaze averted and her smooth cheeks flushing pink.

“Yes, let’s go,” he agreed, feeling more awkward every moment.

To his surprise, she led him unerringly into the ornamental gardens. “You seem to know your way around,” he observed.

Her pace slowed. “I just . . . Somehow, I knew where to go.” Her bright eyes narrowed at him. “You think it’s another proof that I was a princess here, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone might stumble on the correct route to the gardens.”

“They might,” he admitted. “But you just said that you knew the way, and you also remembered your mother’s clothing, which fits you perfectly. You grew up here, Helena.”

She sucked in a quick breath, turned back, and gripped his forearm with both hands, stopping him short. “How? How well do you know me? Please tell me!”

He nearly drowned in her pleading eyes, but this was not the moment to declare his love or kiss her again. “I shall tell you.” He took her slender yet strong hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm while they strolled along a stone pathway amid blooming shrubbery.

“Once, not so many years ago, there was a plump little boy who adored a golden-haired girl and tried to win her affection by tormenting her . . .”

The peaceful gardens perfumed the air as Helena listened, spellbound, to Kazik’s stories of their shared childhood. His deep voice was expressive, and he spoke with humor and candor. She somehow knew that her trust in him was well placed. He was a man of honor. Besides, how could any girl resist his smile and those soulful brown eyes?

Had she truly loved him five years ago? Or was she just a silly girl infatuated by his looks . . . both then and now?

“I don’t believe you were ever short and plump,” she remarked.

“When your memories return, you’ll believe.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes her way and raising one brow. “I’ll work hard to win your heartbeforethat happens.”

Something niggled in her mind, and her heart gave an extra thump. “Did I ever beat you in a footrace?”

“You would have won our first and only footrace if you hadn’t stepped in a rabbit hole. But that turned out to be my lucky day: the day Princess Helena finally saw me as a person.” Then he huffed and smiled, shaking his head. “More like, the first time Princess Helena saw me as something more than a pudding of a boy who tormented her with insults and unwanted attention. I was an idiot.” She heard the self-deprecating truth in his voice.

“Every time your family visited our castle,” he continued, “I watched for your carriage to arrive. One time, Solara and Geoffroi brought me here to see you.”

“The golden bird and the golden horse came here? To this castle? To see me?”

“Actually, they brought me to see you because I missed you so much. You and I walked and talked together in these gardens. Any time I was with you was a highlight in my life.” He sighed. “We were betrothed at Christmas that year. My greatest goal was to become a squire, marry you, and then work toward a knighthood so maybe someday you would admire me.”

How could any womannotadmire this man? As far as Helena could tell, he was everything goodandan absolute feast for the eyes. Which somehow terrified her.

“My mother approved of you,” he added. “I know she had a hand in arranging our betrothal—she knew how utterly smitten with you I was.”

“Did my mother . . . did she approve?”

“Your mother passed away when you were a child. I’m sorry.” He shook his head, and the sympathy in his eyes somehow eased the sadness. “Queen Krystyna and my mother were friends since childhood.”

“I’m sorry I asked you that. I sort of knew already,” she admitted. “I have memories of her, but they’re . . . misty. More like impressions.”

“Your father likes me, I think.”

Wistful sadness brushed through her. “I wish I could remember either of my parents.”

“I remember your mother as a kind woman with a beautiful smile, like yours.”

She nodded, her brow puckered in thought. “Thank you for that.” After a pause, she asked, “Were you happy when we were betrothed?”

“Over-the-moon happy.” He gave her one of those shy glances that made her heart go crazy. “I was never sure how you felt about it. I mean, we were friends by then, and you seemed content enough, but I was crazy about you. I mean a ‘could hardly function in a rational manner when Helena was near’ crazy. I could never do enough. I mean, I carved a toy for you and put magic in it—my first effort.” He laughed, shaking his bowed head. “The love token every girl dreams of, right?”

Her heart responded in a burst of warmth. “Was it a wooden horse?”

---