Warmth spread across my chest at the prospect of time alone with Niger. I gave him an eager nod.
He smirked. “Good. I know exactly how to cheer you up when you fail to catch the goals.”
“Maybe you’ll be the one who needs cheering when Fyrian and I defeat you.” I placed my hands on my hips.
His smirk widened to a grin. “Either way, we will both be cheerful.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I glanced away. “See you at the goalposts.”
Niger jogged toward Flavo, and I made my way back to Fyrian. Hopefully, we’d be able to rush around the arena using our combined magic and the extra buoyancy of her fourth and fifth lungs without me throwing up a stomachful of crackled boar’s leg.
“You’ll be fine,” said Fyrian. “Has Master Jesper’s elixirs ever failed?”
“Never.” Having a master alchemist on our side was wonderful. We were all lucky that the troll remained in Mount Fornax to complete the spriggan poison.
We followed Niger and Flavo to the arena, where they landed in the middle of the stage. The rest of the team, including his brothers, Brunus and Virens, landed around him.
Niger stood on Flavo’s back. “Right, men! We have a match in a week’s time, and we have to maintain our winning streak against the riders.”
“Aye!” The rest of the team raised their bidents.
I glanced down at my empty hand. Did goalkeepers get a bident, too?
“You’ll have to ask Niger for one,” said Fyrian.
“This is a rather dull game,” said Gladius from the dragon seats. “I fail to see how any dragon would volunteer to play.”
We both ignored him and focussed on the rest of Niger’s speech. At each disparagement of the riders, the team burst into raucous cheers and laughter. Even their dragons let out roars of amusement. I dipped my head and smiled. It was no wonder the rider’s captain had challenged Niger to a duel. Ogres didn’t like to be described as desert rodents.
“We will have Bluford at one goal and Virens at the other. Split up and see who scores the most goals.” He threw a long sword hilt at me.
As soon as I caught it out of the air, Fyrian flew to the right side of the arena and glided around the goal.
I pushed my magic into the hilt, and the metal part of the bident sprang out, ending in two wicked points. “Now’s the time to fill your lungs.”
“Good idea.” With a slight backward movement of her neck, all the air surrounding us rushed toward her nostrils.
Anticipation thrummed in my chest, and my breathing deepened. The last time she had used her buoyant air, we had outflown Captain Caiman and Rubens, one of the fastest dragons in Mount Fornax. “Do you need my power?”
“Not to catch a few goals,” she replied. “We won’t be going far.”
“None-Of-Your-Business draws on your power,” said Gladius into our bond. “Fascinating.”
The two of us snarled at the interloper. With a bit of practice, we might be able to push him out of our bond, leaving him to find amusement elsewhere.
From where Niger stood atop Flavo in the middle of the arena, he raised his arms over his head, pressed his hands together and produced a fireball. Between the yellow and orange flames swirling around the sphere flickered black flames.
“Do you think that’s the magic-draining fire Gladius talked about?” I asked.
Gladius scoffed. “Can you not tell the difference between charcoal and deepest black?”
I kept my gaze on Niger, who threw the melon-sized fireball into the air. There was no point in distracting myself answering Gladius’ question. He would explain the difference between the two types of flames in his own time. One of the players from the left side of the field impaled the fireball with his bident and raced toward us.
Brunus, the brown-haired Griffon brother who wore his long hair and beard pulled back from his face into a topknot, flew into his path. His crimson dragon blew a stream of flames at the fireball, making it fly out of the bident’s prongs and toward the other side of the arena.
“Great defense, Punicus!” cried Fyrian.
The red dragon turned its head and gave her a toothy grin.
I smiled. It looked like Fyrian had made some friends among the drogott dragons.
Another player impaled the fireball and threw it across the stadium, where Virens, the green-eyed Griffon brother with the braid and shaved sides of his head flew with his avocado-colored dragon.
“Go on.” I waved my bident in the air. “Score!”
A hand landed on my shoulder, making my heart jump into my mouth. “What?”
“Sorry for alarming you,” said Master Fosco.
I turned around, eyes wide. “H-has something happened?”
“Cendrilla has awoken and has left the realm of the fairies. She requests our presence at the palace.”
Chapter 3
Before I could ask Master Fosco what he meant, he grabbed my arm. In the space of a heartbeat, the world turned inside-out, making every organ in my body shrink toward my churning stomach. When the haze of nauseating confusion cleared, we stood in the dry heat, outside the palace walls. My body collapsed like a broken marionette, and I panted hard, glaring at the hand around my forearm.
“Th-that was awful!” I shouted.
“It was an emergency.” He pulled me toward the gates.
Two eight-foot-tall guards stood to attention. The one on the left had a curved horn for a chin, and the one on the right sported a thick, foot-long trunk.
“Master Fosco! Who is your guest?” The tip of one guard’s trunk curved toward me and flared. “He looks like Princes Brendon and Robert, but—”
“Princess Alba disguised herself to become a cadet,” he replied. “Let us in. Her Majesty has summoned us.”
The two ogres stepped aside, and Master Fosco jogged through the palace courtyard, dragging me along at a run. Our steps crunched on the gravel underfoot, and a hot breeze blew the sweet, pungent scent of orange blossoms across my nostrils, making my nose twitch.
I sneezed. “Can’t you just appear in her room?”
“That would be bad manners,” he said. “Unlike certain Princesses, I respect others’ privacy.”
“He’s talking about you,” said Fyrian.
My eyes widened. “You can reach me?”
“Of course,” she replied. “Don’t you remember how I spoke to you when Astri and Botilda held you in their underground ship?”
“So much has happened since then. I’d forgotten.”
We passed through the saluting guards at the doorway, ran through the hall, passing servants and ogre dignitaries. Each nodded, bowed, or saluted at Master Fosco, gestures they never made at me. I supposed a hero of the Great Dragon Revolution deserved this level of respect. Without his efforts, Steppe would never have become a secure, prosperous nation.
Instead of running straight down the hallway to Aunt Cendrilla’s study, we turned left into another corridor. I glanced up at Master Fosco. “Where are we going?”
“Her private parlor.”
I blinked. “Is she speaking into your mind?”
“There is no need.” He let go of my arm. “Our bond is old and strong enough not to require words.”
I jogged after him, staring at his broad, leather-clad back. Sunlight from a huge window above us brought out the crimson highlights in his long, burgundy hair. Did Master Fosco mean that he’d never been able to speak into her mind, or that they no longer needed to because they could communicate with feelings? I would have to ask Aunt Cendrilla at a later time.
“Why’s she back so soon?” I asked. “What about the quadruplets?”
The wail of a baby was my answer. Master Fosco slowed and stepped into Aunt Cendrilla’s parlor, a magnolia-colored room with silken, ivory-colored sofas, low tables, and family paintings framed in gold. She lounged on a chaise, clutching two large babies to her chest. One of them had hair as gold as Chrysus, and the other’s was platinum like mine. The hair th
at had hung limp and lifeless over her shoulders the last time I saw her now returned to its splendor of pretty, honey-blonde curls.
A mixture of emotions filled my chest. Bubbling excitement to meet my new baby brothers and a dull ache of sadness that had lingered in my heart every time I thought about my broken family. Now that Father had four legitimate sons, he would probably forget about me. The only reason I’d seen so much of him recently was that Aunt Cendrilla had been away and unable to come to Mount Fornax to deal with recent events. Now that she was back, he would return to the Ogre Senate and run the country, while Aunt Cendrilla would fight battles and rule over Steppe and her other kingdoms.
Aunt Cendrilla glanced up from the babies, and her face spread into a beautiful, fairy godmother smile. “Alba. Fosco, come closer.”
Master Fosco rushed into the room and knelt at Aunt Cendrilla’s feet. “I am glad you have returned safe and well. Without your presence, it has been one disaster after another!”
Father stepped out from the other side of the door, arms full of squirming infants. “Get inside, Alba. Your mother is waiting.”
I glanced down at the babies in his arms. One of them had hair the exact shade of sapphire as Gobi’s, while the other’s was a powder blue. The paler baby’s face had turned bright pink and he wailed at father, little hands forming fists.
Mother crossed the room and took the crying baby out of his arms. “You can’t growl like a feral beast around newborns.” She cradled him in her arms and bounced him up and down. “Be gentle, like you were with Alba.”
Father harrumphed. “My boys are not afraid of anything.”
She turned and beamed at me. “Hello, darling. Come and say hello to your aunt and little brothers.”
I stepped into the room and stared from Mother to Father. Despite her previous gripes about him having Married Aunt Cendrilla while still being mated to her, no trace of bitterness fell across her features. Perhaps with Aunt Cendrilla and the babies’ presence, they’d managed to put their differences aside. Mother wore a fitted, blue jacket and nearly black breeches that matched Father’s outfit. A smaller version of his scimitar hung on her hip. From the way they smiled at each other, they seemed like the best of friends.
“I wonder if they’re remembering all the adventures they had with Auntie Rilla,” said Fyrian.
“You know about them?”
“Who do you think sat on her shoulder while she told the orphans bedtime stories?” she replied.
My brows rose. It was no wonder Stafford had been so excited about my relationship to the royal family. He’d been brought up listening to tales of the heroic deeds of Mother, Father, Aunt Cendrilla, and Uncle Armin.
Oliveri stood by the wall on the far right, flanked by two wool-headed female servants, each holding trays of drinks. On the other side waited another pair of servants, clad in the usual black wool. One held a platter of bite-sized fruit, which I supposed were for Mother’s benefit, and the other held a platter of assorted snacks, such as bite-sized boar rolls and partridge drumsticks, suitable for ogre hybrids like Aunt Cendrilla and Father.
“Give Auntie Rilla a peck from me!” cried Fyrian.
“Welcome back.” I made my way to Aunt Cendrilla. “I thought you’d be gone longer.”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Her Majesty sped things up. She said she wanted me able to defend myself if the Forgotten King breaks through his banishment and enters Elphame.”
“Why aren’t they reinforcing the spells they put over him?” I leaned forward and placed a kiss on her temple. Then I pecked each of the babies in her arms. The faint scent of wildflowers clung to their skin, most probably from their time at the realm of the fairies.
Aunt Cendrilla raised a shoulder. “Any new influx of strong magic will wake him. Their hands are tied, I’m afraid.”
“Enough morbid talk.” Mother placed the powder-blue haired baby into my arms. “Say hello to another little brother.”
I hugged the baby to my chest and sniffed the top of his head, enjoying his warm, powdery scent. “What are their names?”
“The one you’re holding is called Emmonsii. Orson is holding Ussuri.”
“Ussuri will inherit House Bluebeard!” he exclaimed.
Mother shook her head. “You can’t choose your heir based on their hair color.”
Aunt Cendrilla continued as though neither of them had spoken. “The silver-haired baby is Nanulak, and the gold is Syriacus.”
Oh. These were typical Bluebeard names. It was likely that Father had chosen them, just as Uncle Armin had chosen Brandon and Robert’s names and Prince Vanus had chosen Chrysus. Perhaps the next lot of children she would have with Father would have names from the Royal House of Suidae.
I glanced around for signs of the silver-haired fairy. “Isn’t Prince Vanus here?”
White light flashed. “I’m the beast of burden,” said a put-upon voice from behind. I turned around to find Prince Vanus standing next to Uncle Armin and the twins. Prince Vanus’ silver wings fluttered with annoyance. “She has me bringing relatives from all corners of the Known World.”
Uncle Armin gave Aunt Cendrilla a soft smile. “I’d hardly describe the United Kingdom of Seven in such terms, but I’m grateful for the transportation.”
Prince Vanus placed his hand on his chest. “You make me sound like I’m a flying ship!”
“Silence,” snarled Father.
The blue-haired baby in his arms cried. Aunt Cendrilla sighed. “Calm yourselves. And Vanus, no one thinks you’re any form of transportation.”
Brandon and Robert snickered, their identical faces lit up with mirth. “Is that Alba? You look like a thirteen-year-old boy in that glamor.”
I smirked. “Laugh all you want, but I’ve been riding dragons.”
While light flashed, and Chrysus jogged up from the other side of the room with his little fists gathered under his chin. For a spoiled, little fairy, and probably the most powerful in the Known World, he looked cute with his blond curls bouncing around his cherubic face. He flapped his golden, dragonfly wings, raising himself three feet off the ground. “Is Fyrian here? Can I ride her?”
“No,” Fyrian and Gladius both said into the bond.
Robert poked him in the belly. “You can already fly.”
Brandon ruffled his hair. “Why don’t you turn into a dragon, and we’ll fly you?”
“Don’t give him ideas,” said Prince Vanus. “The last thing we need is a golden dragon burning down all the buildings.”
The twins burst into laughter and pulled Chrysus over to Aunt Cendrilla’s chaise. Uncle Armin clapped Father on the back with a heartfelt word of congratulations then headed over to join his sons.
A small fist yanked on my hair.
“Ouch!” I glared down at little Emmonsii, who gazed up at me with pale, blue eyes. “What was that for?”
“Do not complain,” said Father. “You pulled on everyone’s hair when you were that age.”
With a sniff, I unraveled my hair from the baby’s grip. “I can’t see myself being so mischievous.”
Mother wrapped an arm around my back and rested her head on my shoulder. “You did that and worse.”
Father chuckled. “Be thankful Alba did not have the power to turn people into animals.”
I glanced at the other side of the room, where Chrysus clambered up Master Fosco’s back and slapped his shoulder as if that would turn him back into the purple dragon. “Who did he transform?”
“Not him,” said Mother. “Cendrilla.”
“Queen Hippohyus brought her to my first wedding.” Father grinned and walked toward the people crowding Aunt Cendrilla’s chaise. “She turned the officiant into an orlovi!”
Aunt Cendrilla leaned through the crowd. “The magistratus said it was an ostrich.”
I stared at Father’s back and whispered, “I didn’t think the age difference between them was that big.”
“It isn’t,” replied Mother. “Ogre-hum
an hybrids grow fast. Back in those days, your little friend, Gobi, would already have been married with children.”
I pulled Mother to the far end of the room and asked in my lowest voice, “Are you all right about this?”
She gave me a rueful smile. “I’m hardly going to begrudge him his happiness, now that I’ve moved on to better things.”
We exchanged a glance. The sadness in her eyes she had whenever Father would leave for the Ogre Senate was gone, replaced by a soft-eyed look of nostalgia. “Having Armin and Vanus here reminds me of the adventures we had in the final weeks of the Snow Queen’s reign.”
“Ha!” said Fyrian. “I told you.”
“Did you think she’d marry all of them?”
“Not in the order she did. I always thought she’d marry Armin first.”
Oliveri brought over a tray of fruit juice. “General Sialia, I thought you and Princess Alba might enjoy these beverages.”
Mother chose the mango juice, and I picked a blood-red drink I suspected was cherry juice.
Father strode toward us, plucked little Emmonsii out of my arms, and handed him to Mother. “You need to go upstairs and get changed. We are due at the Ogre Senate for the naming ceremony in an hour.”
I glanced around the spacious room. “Why can’t we do it here?”
“Because the future King of Steppe is always blessed by the Magistratus.” He placed Ussuri in Mother’s arms and jerked his head toward the door. “Go.”
Dorper, the maid who had helped me the morning after I’d been expelled from the Magical Militia, swept her arm to one side. “I will draw you some hot water and lay out a suitable garment, Princess Alba.”
“And do something about that wretched male appearance,” said Father.
As I left the room, I cast a glance over my shoulder. Father wrapped his arm around Mother’s back and gave her a kiss on the temple. She turned and gave him her brightest smile. I supposed they really had made up, after all.
After deactivating my disguise and making myself presentable, I placed my folded uniform on my dresser and donned an uncorseted bodice in Bluebeard colors with a matching lightweight skirt that wouldn’t restrict my movements. On an embroidered sword belt, I hung my parched sword and a decorative dagger I’d found on the wall. Dorper fussed over my hair, arranging it into a braided style swept off my face.
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