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LOVE AND WAR

K azik ran downstairs, along several corridors, outside into the formal gardens behind Mnisztwo Castle, through a gate, and finally through an invisible doorway.

Instead of mountains, he now gazed upon rolling green hills and a rippling lake beneath a pale blue sky. He had entered Geoffroi’s pocket world.

He was just about to call for the golden horse when something bunted him from behind. Kazik turned, laughing. “How do you do that? Sneak up on me.”

“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 it is possible to set your sights too high.”

“Ha, ha.” Kazik rolled his eyes.

“So, why not be the hardest-working and most successful caroven you 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.

If you 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, and you offer 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.”

I f 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 Wroc?aw, but Kazimierz’s father, the Grand Duke of Ostrów, held authority over them all—and he was second in power to his father, 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 ?yrardów—mountainous and remote but the largest country in Wroc?aw by land mass—and that it shared a border with every one of the other countries.

The Prince of Starogard, the country south of ?yrardów, 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 Twardos?aw, who respectively went by Czwarty (fourth) and Twardo—and the other three princes were too young to matter.

Last of all, the Baron of Lómza, southwest of Starogard, had two snooty daughters, Kornelia and Malgosia.

At age eleven, Helena found boys intimidating, so she preferred to ignore them. Sadly, the four other girls moved in their sister pairs, bickering almost constantly. She pretended not to care, but in her heart she longed for a friend.

One sunny summer day—Prince Kazimierz’s twelfth birthday—a group of servants was assigned to organize games for the older children in the formal gardens behind the castle, while a few even unluckier footmen did their best to contain the feral little boys from Plock Castle.

Helena played hide-and-seek with her peers for a while, but that got boring and ended in arguments, so she observed while everyone else sat around and chatted.

The boys talked about their military training, boasting of their skill and accomplishments until the girls began to yawn.

Once the equally bored servants were called inside to resume their usual duties, Prince Kazimierz suggested heading down to an old pasture beyond the archery ranges where they could play Blind Man’s Bluff without supervision.

Even though her archenemy had proposed the idea, Helena nodded, more than ready for action. Czwarty and Twardo pleaded with the other girls to play, since four players wouldn’t be enough.

Helena privately thought Kornelia was delighted to be convinced.

Anyone could tell she had a huge crush on Czwarty.

Those two were already thirteen, the oldest of the group.

Kornelia was ladylike and proper, and she had beautiful red-gold hair and only a few freckles.

Czwarty, heir to the Principality of Starogard, was large and strong, not exactly handsome but good-natured .

. . and he was utterly clueless about girls.

When everyone had agreed to play, Helena followed the others to the castle’s west side and used the amazing (and possibly magical) terraced steps to descend the face of a granite cliff. Once they’d crossed the archery ranges, Kazik opened a gate to a seldom-used meadow, and they all filed in.

Boundaries and rules for the game were quickly laid out and agreed on.

Twardo drew the long straw, so he wore the blindfold, a clean linen kerchief, first. At twelve, Twardo was built much like his older brother but clumsier.

Helena found him easy to evade, and he seemed set on catching his sister Jadwiga anyway, so she mostly drifted around the edges of the game, amused and slightly scornful of the active players.

Several rounds later, she had yet to be tagged.

Then Czwarty caught Kazik, who laughed, winked at Helena, and donned the blindfold.

A thrill of horror and anticipation ran through her. The evil prince wouldn’t hunt her down . . . would he?

Yes, he would, like a hound on the trail.

Kazik could have caught the giggling girls several times but didn’t even try.

Twardo and Czwarty each smacked him, and he still didn’t take the bait.

He followed her with uncanny accuracy. Could he be using magic?

She didn’t sense any, but how else could he find her when she made scarcely a sound?

The other children started to mock Kazik, but he paid no attention. He finally cornered her and guessed correctly which way she would dodge. His fingertips brushed her skirt and latched hold. “Helena,” he stated without doubt.

She wanted to sulk, but he’d caught her, fair and square—as far as she could tell. “How did you find me?” Her question was more like a challenge.

He pulled off the blindfold, and she looked into his twinkling eyes. “You’re as quiet as a cat!” he exclaimed, handing her the kerchief, which felt damp and warm. “And you smell nice.”

A compliment? He couldn’t mean it!

Could he?”

“If I’m quiet as a cat, I’ll catch you back, like a rat.” She meowed and curled her fingers like claws.

He grinned, and his dark eyes lit up. “Do it!” For an instant she wanted to smile but instead clapped the blindfold over her eyes. Ludmila tied it securely without tangling Helena’s hair in the knot.

The blindfold was hot and damp on her face. Ick! Oh, why did I agree to play this silly game?

Then Czwarty said, “Go.”

Everyone went so quiet that Helena began to wonder if they’d all crept away to leave her searching alone. But then she heard a snicker, and a few moments later someone gasped. She snatched in that direction but caught only air. She could never react in time to the sounds.