Queen Cendrilla’s face darkened into a scowl as deep as Father’s, and she launched into a tirade about his domineering ways. It was just like something Mother would say, except she would transform into a bluebird and punctuate her rants with sharp pecks.
I turned to the Witch General. “Why would King Magnar want to marry a Queen who already has three husbands?”
“Your aunt commands the two most powerful armies in the Known World. It’s not surprising that a War Lord would want her alliance.”
“Right.” I bowed my head. The oldest of her armies was the Magical Militia: an all-female sisterhood of warrior witches. After the Great Dragon Revolution, which took place before I was born, Queen Cendrilla had set up her second army, the Dragon Defense Division, which consisted of male, ogre hybrids.
“Then send one of your distant cousins to the wretch!” Father bellowed.
I slid further down my seat. Father might be the administrative ruler of the country and his noble house the largest supplier of water and agriculture, but even I could tell he was overstepping his place.
Queen Cendrilla’s expression tightened. “I’ve married them all off. My only other unmarried female relative is the Witch General.”
The Witch General bristled. “I doubt that a young King would welcome a two-hundred-year-old bride.”
Father turned his cold gaze on me. “You failed the Magical Militia Academy.”
My pulse pounded within a throat as dry as the Boreal Desert. “Yes?”
“Oliveri,” he said without looking at the butler. “Fetch an artist to make Alba’s betrothal portrait.”
Chapter 2
Anger blazed across my skin, pushing me to my feet. “You’re not going to marry me off to a warlord!”
Queen Cendrilla also stood. “I won’t allow you to send Alba away.”
Father snorted. “I can do what I want with my own daughter.”
I balled my fists, quaking so hard my bones rattled. I could tolerate Father neglecting Mother and me to spend time at the Ogre Senate with Queen Cendrilla. I could tolerate Mother leaving for the fairy realm the second I joined the Magical Militia. I could even tolerate Father moving into the palace to be with the monarch he loved. But what I wouldn’t tolerate was being used as a consolation prize for the brutish King Magnar.
I would have said as much, but Queen Cendrilla spoke first. In a voice as cold as a Tundra wind, she said, “Stand down, or I will invoke my rights as Alba’s fairy godmother.”
I glanced at the Witch General. The corner of her lip curled. She, like many others in Steppe, disapproved of Father being married to the Queen.
He narrowed his eyes and stalked toward her. “You would not dare.”
“Watch—” Queen Cendrilla’s face froze. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she stumbled forward.
Panic exploded across my chest, making my heart quicken. I jumped off my seat and raced around the table to catch her. “Auntie Rilla!”
Father barreled past and hoisted her into his arms. “Cendrilla!”
The Witch General shot to her feet, staff raised and its crystal tip blazing with magic. “Permission to perform a diagnostic, Your Majesty?”
“Do it,” said Father.
The witch paused for a second, waiting for Aunt Cendrilla to nod. I gulped several times. Before the Great Dragon Revolution, she’d been the target of numerous assassination attempts. This had to be the work of King Magnar of the Savannah Empire. He’d probably asked his battle witches to enchant the portrait so it would harm the Queen if she refused his proposal.
Magic flared from the Witch General’s crystal, bathing both Father and Aunt Cendrilla in white light. When it returned to her staff, the Witch General furrowed her brow.
“Well?” said Father.
I leaned forward, pulse thudding in my eardrums, throat cracking like parched earth.
“The results are rather personal,” replied the Witch General.
“Everybody out!” Father pointed at the double doors.
Oliveri ushered out the other servants and the Queen’s Guard. I headed for the door, wiping my damp hands on the leather of my Magical Militia uniform.
“Alba…” Aunt Cendrilla’s voice was a soft whisper. “Please stay.”
My heart swelled, filling my chest with warmth. Despite all the terrible things I had thought about her, she still considered me family. I swallowed down a lump in my throat.
When the door clicked shut, the Witch General performed a privacy spell, protecting us from sensitive ogre ears. She turned to Aunt Cendrilla, who still lay in Father’s arms, and her face softened. “You’re expecting quadruplets.”
She blinked. “F-four?”
“Whose?” asked Father.
“Their species is one-quarter fairy, one-quarter human, and half-ogre.”
Father’s features blanked. “Mine?”
My stomach dropped. Aunt Cendrilla had twins, Prince Robert and Prince Brendan, with Uncle Armin, the human monarch of the United Kingdom of Seven. And her youngest was Prince Chrysus, who she’d had with Prince Vanus of the Fairies. It had never occurred to me that she would have children with Father.
“Mine!” Father’s face broke out into a grin, and he threw his head back and roared with laughter. He swung her around, causing her skirts to knock the parchments off the table.
I knelt on the marble floor and picked up the fallen scrolls with hands that shook. Father would forget about me for sure.
“At last…” More bellowing laughter erupted from Father, making him sound like a villain whose schemes had finally come to fruition. “I have my heirs!”
My head snapped up, blood draining from my face and pooling into my clenching stomach. “But you said I was the heir to the Noble House of Bluebeard.”
Father was too busy suffocating Aunt Cendrilla with his mouth to listen.
My gaze slid to the Witch General who watched Father’s spectacle with pursed lips. I gulped several lungfuls of air, trying to muster the courage to beg. “He’s going to marry me off for sure. Please, don’t expel me.”
Her stern expression melted into something that looked like compassion, and I swallowed, pushing down a wave of helplessness that threatened to drown me in despair. My eyes stung, and I blinked away the beginning of tears. If a Witch General who had sacrificed a century of her life in Tundra, protecting the Known World from the Snow Queen was feeling pity for me, my life had to be a terrible mess.
She reached across the table and pulled me to my feet. “Queen Cendrilla was betrothed without her consent when she was about your age. It was a distressing time for her, and she escaped across a hostile country with no means of protection. She wouldn’t let the same happen to another girl.”
I shook my head. Father had a way of getting women to agree with him. He charmed Mother, Aunt Cendrilla, and all the witches of our Noble House. All women, even ogresses, considered him a lovable rogue. The only females immune to his charm were myself and the Witch General.
Giving her my most pleading look, I asked, “My grades weren’t all that bad. Can’t you use me as a researcher or an apothecary?”
She patted me on the wrist. “Appeal to your aunt.” Then, the Witch General walked around the table and headed for the double doors. “Please tell Her Majesty I had to leave for another appointment.”
My heart plummeted to the marble floor, but I had to ask, “Who was she betrothed to, anyway?”
The Witch General released the privacy spell and hurried through the exit. Her magic pushed the double doors shut with a click.
Shoulders slumping, I turned to Father, who was already sprinting across the room, holding Aunt Cendrilla in his arms like he was a romantic hero rescuing a golden-haired damsel from a tower. Her eyes were glazed from all that spinning around, but her pretty, blonde curls fanned out on Father’s shoulder, mixing with his own blue-black waves.
He looked so much happier with her than he did with Mother. It was no wonder Mother
returned to serve the Queen of the Fairies’ army. Nobody could compete with the great Queen Cendrilla of Steppe. Not even her own sister.
“Blasted magic!” Father swung his Sword of Lightning at the enchantment encasing the door, and it splintered into white sparks. He kicked the door open and rushed out, still holding Aunt Cendrilla.
A pair of ogresses, whose horns curled from hair that reminded me of sheep’s wool, entered the room. Clad in pristine, white aprons fastened over black, wool dresses, they bustled to the table and picked up the fallen scrolls.
“Squawk!” The green dragonet swooped down from the window, toward the empty plate of meat. It landed, folded its wings, and lowered slitted, amber eyes into an expression of grief.
“I feel your pain,” I murmured. “Come with me, and I’ll find you something to eat.”
The dragonet flew up and perched on my shoulder, digging its claws into my leather armor. Like most things in the Magical Militia, the uniform was enchanted. Every claw slash repaired itself and the leather thickened under the little creature’s movements. I stepped out into the hallway, ready to arrange a flying carriage to Mount Bluebeard.
“Her Majesty has remodeled the Princess Suite,” said Oliveri from behind.
I whirled around and lifted my chin. “But I’m going home.”
“The Queen has made arrangements for you to stay in the palace. She wants you close in the event of war.”
I pursed my lips. That was the third mention of possible conflict. “Mount Bluebeard is secure enough. We have the highest concentration of witches outside the Magical Militia.”
“Be that as it may, I have my orders.” He straightened to his full, eight-feet bulk. “Will you accompany me to the Princess suite, or would you prefer to be carried?”
The green dragonet screeched at Oliveri, who raised an eyebrow.
“All right.” I huffed. “Lead the way.”
His black eyes fixed on the dragonet on my shoulder. “That is the property of the Dragon Defense Division of Her Majesty’s armed forces, not a toy.”
“Dragonets aren’t property!” I snapped.
Ogres tended to think that all sentient beings, except fairies, existed to serve them. They even thought that of witches to some extent, as ogresses created witches by breeding with human males. Although Oliveri was one of those who supported Aunt Cendrilla’s equality policies, it was hard to change the way people thought after so many centuries of ogre domination.
With one massive paw on the small of my back, he turned on his heels, spinning me around. The dragonet unfurled its wings for balance and blew out an angry plume of smoke.
“Oliveri?” I had to jog to keep up with his long strides.
“Yes?” he drawled.
“The Witch General told me that Aunt Cendrilla was betrothed at my age.”
“She was a year younger, and under several contracts of marriage.”
“Oh. Which one of her suitors did she run away from?”
Oliveri paused at the foot of the bone staircase. An ogre passed carrying two sacks of gold coins toward the treasury. Instead of a nose, he had a mammoth trunk, which curled around a scroll sealed with a crest I didn’t recognize.
Streaks of tangerine-colored light streamed in through huge windows overlooking the enchanted gardens. Mother had once told me that the stairs had been formed with the bones of the previous Royal House, whom Aunt Cendrilla’s grandmother had slaughtered centuries ago. I gazed up into the butler’s eyes, waiting for an answer.
“I do recall that Her Majesty was sold into marriage when she lived in the United Kingdom of Seven. The gentleman in question had paid her weight in gold.”
“Would that be to the suitor she ran away from?”
He inclined his head, brow horns slicing through the air. “He was furious when she escaped and then pursued her relentlessly.”
My mind conjured up a one-eyed giant, then I shook my head. Back in those days, the United Kingdom of Seven was hostile toward non-humans. It was probably a wicked duke who wanted a pretty, young wife. “Who was he?”
Mirth glimmered in Oliveri’s eyes. “At the time, he went by the name, Lord Bluebeard.”
My jaw dropped. “Father?”
“Yes.” Oliveri let go of my back and continued up the stairs, taking them four at a time.
I ran after him. “B-but Aunt Cendrilla married him when she was seventeen!”
“Out of political necessity.” He reached the top of the stairs and swung his arm to the left, gesturing for me to follow. “The entire nation is aware of the sacrifice your mother made to ensure that Steppe had a suitable regent.”
Dread curled around my belly, adding to my feeling of helpless rage. If Aunt Cendrilla’s forced betrothal resulted in the happiness she’d found with Father, she probably wouldn’t fight too hard to save me from King Magnar. The dragonet swiped me on the head with its wing, urging me to hurry up and fetch its meat.
I bounded up the stairs on legs that felt like lead and followed Oliveri to the ten-foot-tall door of the Princess Suite.
He pushed it open, revealing a good-sized room with portraits of Mother, Father and me when I was about five or six. She looked so much like Aunt Cendrilla, with the same wide, expressive eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. They even had the same tall, athletic figure. Those similarities, I supposed, came from their father, Prince Evander of the Fairies. I’d seen him once when I was little and remembered him to be spectacularly beautiful with hair that shone like spun gold.
The only difference between the two sisters was their coloring. Where Aunt Cendrilla had blonde hair and green eyes, Mother’s hair was a deep mahogany and her eyes the blackest obsidian.
The rest of the room was filled with smaller paintings depicting the lush, green landscape of Mount Bluebeard, the most fertile region of Steppe. Armoires and chests of drawers lined the walls, presumably filled with pretty dresses fit for a Princess. And in the middle of the room was a massive, round bed.
“This was where Her Majesty stayed before she was crowned the Queen of Steppe,” murmured Oliveri. “You should be honored. It was the room of her mother, Queen Hippohyus, when she was the Princess.”
I raised my shoulders and headed for the writing table. One of the sheep-haired servants entered and set a plate of meat chunks beside the quill and ink.
Oliveri huffed. “The room is reserved for the daughter of the Queen.”
“I won’t be staying long enough for her to birth a baby girl.”
The butler shook his head and stalked toward the door, muttering something about obtuse children. I ignored his silent rant. It wasn’t like I’d asked for this special room. Although Aunt Cendrilla declared me a Princess because Father was the Prince Regent, it wasn’t a title befitting the child of the Regent’s fairy concubine.
The dragonet jumped off my shoulder and swooped down to the plate of meat. It hopped from foot to foot, squawking for me to throw a piece.
As I fed the dragonet chunks of beefsteak, I penned a letter to Mother, begging for help. She was probably the only person who understood my predicament. Moments later, I set it aside and slumped on the desk, head thudding on the wood. “How in the Known World will I deliver it to the realm of the fairies?”
A scaly little head butted my temple, and I opened my eyes to meet the irritated gaze of the dragonet. “Sorry. I forgot about you.”
Then Oliveri’s words echoed in my head. He had said the dragonet was the property of the Dragon Defense Division. It was a place where male ogre-hybrids, who did not share the magic of their witch sisters, trained to become dragon mages and dragon riders. I fed the dragonet another chunk of meat.
“The Dragon Defense Division has an academy, doesn’t it?”
With a curt nod, the dragonet blew out a plume of flame to sear the meat before swallowing it whole.
I pushed aside the parchment containing Mother’s letter and picked up my quill.
For the attention of the Director of Admi
ssions, Dragon Academy, Mount Fornax Dragon Sanctuary.
Dear Sir:
I wish to tender my application to become a dragon mage at your fine institution. When I was born, the witch-doctor told my mother I had great power. Now that I am grown, I wish to offer my strength to Her Majesty’s Armed Forces.
I am hardworking, good at studying, and determined to succeed in serving my country. If your mage program is full, please consider me for other roles within the Dragon Defense Division.
Yours Faithfully,
I chewed my lip. If I was going to join the Dragon Defense Division, I needed a masculine name. But it couldn’t be so different from mine that I didn’t recognize it if someone called me.
Albert sounded like Alba, so that would be my first name. And although I was now a member of the Royal House of Suidae, I’d spent my life in Bluebeard Mountain, the stronghold of the Noble House I was supposed to inherit.
The Bluebeard name was far too infamous. We were the sole supplier of agriculture and fresh water in Steppe, making Father the richest man in the country. I hadn’t known this until one of the witches in the Magical Militia had made a snide comment about Father being a six-time widower whose wives had married him for money.
I tossed the dragonet another chunk of meat. “What do you think of Albert Bluford?”
It gave a screech of approval and let out a large plume of fire. The scent of grilled steak filled the room, making my mouth water. I picked up the quill and signed my new name with a flourish.
Albert Bluford.
I rolled it up and sealed it with wax. “When you’ve finished your dinner, will you send this to the person who deals with admissions at the Dragon Academy?”
The dragonet nodded and snapped its jaws for another chunk of meat.
Chapter 3
Dragon Mage Academy Box Set Page 2