Page 6

CHANGES AND ARCHERY

M adame Euzebia must have performed some magic, Helena thought, because her Papa brought her back to Mnisztwo Castle for a visit only two months after Kazik’s impromptu visit to Castle Valga.

She had recently grown out of every garment she possessed and now had an updated wardrobe.

She was still growing taller—would it never end?

—but she wasn’t quite so skinny anymore.

She couldn’t see herself all at once in the glass in the guest room, but she thought—she hoped—Kazik would like her simple brown kirtle over a fresh white chemise.

Sometimes she really missed having a mother to talk with about boys and clothes and things. Even her old niania had recently retired—not that the woman had ever been a confidante. If Mama had lived, Helena thought, what would she think of Kazik?

She hadn’t seen him yet, but that wasn’t surprising since she and Papa had arrived late last night.

According to Ludmila, the boys and young men rose early to train and practice mock-battles on the meadow and other exercise fields, then made merry in the evenings if they weren’t too worn out to socialize.

Helena had never realized that young men traveled from all over Wroc?aw each summer for mandatory military training.

Most were housed in military quarters located well south of Mnisztwo Castle.

Only the archery drills took place within easy walking distance of the castle, and Helena eagerly joined Jadwiga and Ludmila on the terrace overlooking the ranges.

After listening to the sisters’ chatter, she had a sinking feeling Kazik wouldn’t be spending much time with her during this visit.

He might not even wish to. Many things could change in a very short time.

The Plock Castle sisters seemed far more sophisticated and knowledgeable to Helena, even though Jadwiga was near her age and Ludmila a year younger.

“Look!” Jadwiga exclaimed. “The men are sparring with practice swords! They must have run out of room at the training grounds. Czwarty says the bunkhouses are overflowing this year. So many men of fighting age.” The girl seemed pleased to be a sought-after source of information, and Helena was equally happy to be informed.

However, hearing her old playmates described as men was a bit jarring.

The older Plock Castle brothers were easy to pick out in the ranks because of their large size, and Kazik stood out because he was small.

He was quite possibly the shortest swordsman on the field, yet when the boys matched up and sparred, he wielded his training sword with confidence.

His strikes were quick and accurate. She found herself twitching, her muscles trying to mirror his moves, and she felt short of breath.

The other girls were equally enthralled, so Helena felt free to enjoy watching Kazik and taking pride in his skills.

He focused on fighting and never once looked up toward the terrace, but she didn’t mind.

Not-getting-killed was a useful skill for a young man to develop.

The sisters chatted so constantly while they watched that Helena never had to ask a question. She now knew that Jadwiga’s entire family had arrived at Mnisztwo a week ago. “We’ve had a glorious time getting to know young men from all over the duchy,” she said with a giggle.

“So many handsome men!” Ludmila, who was not yet thirteen, sighed in ecstasy, wrinkling her nose. But then she heaved a woeful sigh. “Mama makes us watch the monsters every morning!”

Although Helena had often regretted her lack of siblings, she acknowledged the sisters’ plight. Wherever the three younger princes of Plock Castle went, chaos followed.

“Lucjan kicks anyone who tries to discipline him.” Jadwiga sighed heavily. “Mama says he’ll grow out of it, but I’m not so sure.”

“Well, your older brothers don’t kick, so that might give you some hope for the future,” Helena observed.

Ludmila chuckled, and even Jadwiga admitted, “A faint hope, but it’s something.”

When practice ended, the trainees dispersed, and the girls hurried inside to dress for supper.

Helena donned a green gown over a white chemise, pleased that this year she could show off her first wimple and veil.

With no one to help her dress, she left her heavy braid down and hopefully hidden by the trailing veil.

Helena and her father were among the first guests to enter the Great Hall, which quickly filled with guests. Anticipation had her heart beating double-time when Czwarty, Twardo, and several other young lords and ladies she didn’t know by name entered the Great Hall, but Kazik wasn’t among them.

To Helena’s surprise, her father leaned close to say, “You look lovely tonight, my dear child. So much like your mother.”

Warmth and happiness flooded through her, and tears prickled her eyes as she smiled up at him.

“I can imagine you would prefer to join your friends. Feel free to leave this old man to his own devices,” he added with a fond wink. “I still have a few old friends to visit.”

As it turned out, her father was first to move on to chat with his acquaintances, and Helena felt a bit adrift in the crowded room. Eager guests and the usual courtiers surrounded the Grand Duke Warin Lisiewicz and his wife, the Grand Duchess Euzebia, but where was Kazik?

I n his absence, she observed his parents.

The Grand Duke was broad-shouldered and freckled like Kazik, but he was tall, and his red hair was lighter than Kazik’s.

Madame Euzebia’s glossy chestnut braids were visible beneath her wimple.

Helena wouldn’t have described her as pretty, exactly, but she was eye-catching.

She practically exuded confidence . . . and kindness.

Also, power. Maybe because she was so tall for a woman—nearly as tall as her husband.

Helena briefly closed her eyes and prayed that Kazik would grow tall like his parents. Then she bit her lips, hoping her prayer hadn’t offended the Almighty.

Suddenly insecure, she slipped one hand into her kirtle’s hidden pocket to rub the little toy horse. Would Kazik even notice her with so many other girls around? Her old friends all had new gowns too, and most of them looked like young ladies while she still had the curves of a fence post.

Where was Kazik?

F rom across the room, Euzebia watched her son descend the grand staircase, his gaze scanning the guests, his expression eager.

She knew he was searching for Helena, who stood alone, looking self-conscious.

The girl had no idea how lovely she was.

Sweet, innocent, shy, yet spunky like Kazimierz.

They were still children, really, yet Kazik longed to marry Helena.

Since the day he first saw her, he’d noticed no other girl.

Would she make a good wife for him? Both children were sheltered. Their virtue had not yet been tested. Bright-shining human morality often lacked a solid foundation. Kazik could fall into dishonor as easily as Helena could.

Euzebia’s lips flattened as her eyes narrowed.

One thing she knew for certain: she would die before she allowed Warin to marry off Kazik to one of his many girl cousins.

That family was as loveless and dysfunctional as they came, and she knew Kazik cringed whenever his father mentioned taking him north.

Euzebia had long ago resolved never to use her magic against her husband .

. . except perhaps in a life-and-death situation.

However, she would wield all persuasive wiles at her disposal to protect her son’s future, and her long-held resolve to avoid political involvement felt increasingly unsound.

She might need to switch from “resolve” to something less rigid, such as “hope.”

The very idea of getting involved in political or magical intrigues gave her a sinking feeling.

She was no leader. She always let Warin do the talking in public situations.

Smiling graciously was her go-to social skill.

Any involvement on her part would inevitably lead to conflict with her father-in-law the archduke .

. . and although she loved her husband, she knew he condoned his father’s increasingly unethical, illegal, and downright corrupt uses of magic.

Its ramifications had already begun to spread throughout the land of Wroc?aw. But Euzebia knew she lacked the vision and experience to lead a rebellion. If only the World Magic Council hadn’t disbanded . . .

What if she were to contact the former council mages yet living and prod them into action?

W hen Kazik finally descended the grand staircase, Helena realized he still looked like a freckled pink-cheeked boy. He was cordial and polite to everyone he encountered, even as his gaze eagerly scanned the room. He seemed to be working his way through the crowd toward his parents.

He hadn’t noticed her. What if he was looking for someone else? Suddenly, her chest and throat felt tight. By the time nearby guests greeted the prince, she couldn’t think of a word to say.

But then Kazik caught her gaze, and his face lit up. He walked straight up to her, pressed one hand over his heart, and exclaimed, “ O jejku! You are beautiful, Helena!”

Suddenly, she was floating on air. “Thank you.”

The girls who’d overheard his outburst giggled. Czwarty, Twardo, and a few young men Helena didn’t know teased Kazik about his hopeless passion for a giantess princess, and about his multitudinous freckles, but he paid them no heed, so she ignored them too.

“If I could, I would take you in for dinner,” he said outright. “We can’t have a real conversation in this crowd.”

He was right. The hall was so noisy that she nearly had to read his lips to understand. And amid all the resounding voices and laughter, several people butted between them like sheep, she thought. But Kazik kept trying to catch her eye, and she couldn’t help returning his smiles.