Drake

How had this happened? Drake—while trying his best to escape notice—was now smack in the middle of a family reunion. The only thing currently saving him was the fact that everyone was too busy to notice him. Drake was happy to embrace the shield of invisibility as long as it lasted. He was shocked to have survived the run-in with the Baysellian once-a-prince unscathed. Being this close to the royal family of Crystal Palace was just tempting fate, or the much-deserved punishment for a lifetime of bad decisions.

“How is your project coming?” Alexander asked Rosaliy as they walked back to the entryway.

“Terribly,” she shot back. “You know I’m the worst person for a task like that.”

Drake wasn’t particularly vain, but he was sure they were talking about him.

Alexander grinned. “I do. But you also have fantastic instant impressions about people.”

“Oh,” she said, diffused by the flattery. “Well, they’re good. Secretive, but likable.”

Of all the things that might be engraved on a tomb plaque for him some day, he would take that one. Of course, that was assuming Drake’s dead body was buried and not unceremoniously pitched into the ocean or left to rot in the high desert.

By the time Alexander, Rosaliy, and a reluctant Drake arrived at the entryway, Kat had flung open the doors with a sweep of her hands. Had the dark-haired queen recognized him? For an instant, he thought she had.

Rosaliy hung to the side just outside the massive palace doors while Alexander and Kat went forward to greet their guests, and Drake gladly stayed behind with her. Two men were just making their way up the wide stairway to the palace doors. One was a soldier garbed in a brilliant red cape embroidered with the silver Kianne wolf. The other was an unkempt version of Alexander: wavy golden hair, green eyes, and a billowing shirt under a fitted scarlet vest.

“Is that…?” Drake asked.

“Corin himself,” Rosaliy agreed. “I’m out of touch with current Kianne fashion trends, but he probably reflects them.”

Yes, if Alexander’s style was a subtle opulence, Corin screamed wealth and a careless stupidity that made him an easy mark. No wonder he traveled with a personal soldier.

“Hale!” Kat exclaimed, ignoring the Kianne Prince to greet the soldier with an effusive hug.

That was the King of Kianne, Drake realized with a surprise that was rare for him. This man exuded no evidence of the airs of his position, even though ten years seemed plenty of time for anyone to be cozy with the comforts of his royal role. To the best of Drake’s understanding, the soldier had been given the title by the rightful Queen, Issabeth—Alexander’s older sister who had returned from the dead to become Katyrinna’s Head Sorceress. Understanding might have been stretching the extent of Drake’s limited knowledge of the situation. Ten years ago, there had been a war spear-headed by the Queen of Kianne—Alexander, Corin, and Issabeth’s mother. Katyrinna had summarily stopped the impending war and deposed her, although stories about how she had accomplished this varied wildly.

Hale hugged Katyrinna warmly in return, although awkwardly around her stomach.

“Wonderful to see you, Queen Kat,” he greeted her. “You look radiant.”

“That’s what I keep saying.” Alexander grasped Hale’s hand.

“Hmmph,” she disagreed.

“Brother,” greeted Alexander with less enthusiasm, holding out his arm.

His disheveled mirror image, Corin, grasped Alexander’s arm in reply, then the arm of a reluctant Kat. When he bent forward to kiss the Queen’s cheek in greeting, she jerked backwards like he was a viper ready to strike.

“Don’t even try it,” she threatened politely.

“How was the journey?” asked Alexander with an amused smile.

“Long and boring,” Corin whined, turning to Hale. “Can we submit some sort of proposal for the building of inns with entertainment along the route from Kianne to Crystal Palace.”

“You go right ahead and draft that proposal,” agreed Hale. “I look forward to hearing the logistics and long-term impact of your plan.”

Alexander snorted.

“Where are the children, dearest?” Kat leaned in to ask Alexander quietly while Corin expanded on his entertainment thoroughfare idea.

“Safely under Chandra’s thumb,” he replied. “I’m sure the second they hear—”

He was cut off by a pair of shrieks. “Uncle Corin!” yelped a girl with a flurry of wild, dark curls. A boy with his own mop of messy, dark hair was not far behind. Corin scooped both of them into a giant squeeze.

“You’re huge,” Corin accused. “What have you been eating?”

They clamored, “What’d you bring? What’d you bring?”

Corin gestured to a servant behind him, and the man lugged forward a huge trunk. Drake sympathized.

During this, Drake heard someone swoop in behind him. He pivoted to the threat unconsciously, but found a servant with an apron full of giant pockets stuffed with odds and ends. He forced his tensed muscles to relax. If he thought he was under suspicion now, attacking a palace servant would do him no favors.

The zealous woman thrust a jacket at Rosaliy. “I knew you wouldn’t take a moment to change,” she fussed, flipping out a brush from a pocket in her apron. In a flurry, she attacked Rosaliy’s hair, yanking out a tangle of dried gourd and more than a little of the hair it had been attached to. Somehow, in the same motion she dropped the brush back into the mysterious apron supplies, she managed to scoop Rosaliy’s hair back into a tidy golden ponytail. When and where the woman had produced a fat blue ribbon to tie the hair, Drake could not have guessed. Rosaliy slipped on the jacket.

“Thank you, Chandra,” she tried to say, but the woman had already moved on to keep the rest of the palace running smoothly, no doubt.

“Are things always this…busy?” asked Drake.

“Every day,” Rosaliy answered.

As Corin fiddled with the clasps on the trunk, an irritated Kat shook her head. Alexander wrapped an arm around her and murmured in her ear. “I know, I know.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

A new arrival objected before Kat could. “Tansy hardly deserves presents after today.”

Just as he had with Chandra, Rosaliy’s entire body tensed like she was going into attack mode. Unlike him, she did not relax when she turned to see the new arrival. In fact, every eye turned toward the tall blond woman with piercing ice blue eyes like they had been commanded to attention.

“But, Grandmama,” begged Tansy.

“Tell me what happened,” said the unmoved grandmama.

Drake made the connections slowly. If these were Kat and Alexander’s children, their (living) grandmother was the deposed Kianne Queen. First of all, age must have been too afraid to touch the woman in the last ten years. Only a few lines around her icy blue eyes and mouth betrayed that she was made of flesh and not a menacing flesh-colored stone. More importantly, by all rights, she was a prisoner in this castle, yet no one seemed to find her sudden appearance odd. Well, Rosaliy did, but her objections were voiceless.

“Isn’t she a prisoner here?” whispered Drake.

Rosaliy huffed out a breath that indicated as annoyed as she appeared on the outside, she was doubly annoyed on the inside.

Meanwhile, Tansy had launched into an explanation about carriages and pumpkins. “But all Zetta found was a butter gourd,” she complained, as if butter gourds were life ruining.

The story was having no visible effect on Daniella. She crossed her arms and stared down at the little girl. To her credit, Tansy weathered the same gaze that had caused more than a few dukes and countesses to crumble.

“Try again,” said Daniella.

Not even Tansy was foolish enough to withstand that tone. She was momentarily cowed.

Family dynamics were well outside Drake’s area of expertise, but the way this woman had instantly recentered the attention of everyone on herself fascinated him. Even as a prisoner, she was powerful.

Katyrinna took the girl’s hands. “Accidents happen, firefly, but you could have hurt the children.”

Tansy sighed heavily, her scrunched face scanning her mother and her grandmama for a chink in their resolve. She shot a glance to her father for help.

“You’re on your own, Tans,” he told her. “I don’t know how many times we’ve talked about exploding fruit in the house.”

She cast her eyes sullenly to the floor. “I’m really sorry for blowing up a butter gourd,” said a mostly penitent Tansy, “and for making such a mess.”

“What will you do differently next time?” demanded Daniella.

“Next…time?” Tansy peeked up at her with hopeful green eyes.

“There is always a next time,” Daniella said coldly.

Strangely, Tansy perked up.

“Umm…” thought Tansy. “Outside, maybe?”

“Good start.”

“And a safe distance,” Tansy suggested.

“Wise precaution.”

“And a real pumpkin for sure.”

“Try supervision,” interjected Alexander.

“Oh,” grumped Tansy crossly, “everyone is always busy.”

“I’m game for exploding fruit,” offered Corin.

“Perhaps you are not the most responsible choice,” countered Daniella, “but I have all afternoon.”

“Really?” squealed Tansy, clapping her hands.

“If you intend to learn something,” Daniella replied coldly.

Her harshness had no impact on Tansy’s joy.

“It’s going to be a big white carriage with gold bells all over so it jingles when it rolls,” she daydreamed with an exaggerated sigh as punctuation.

“Are you sure?” Kat asked Daniella.

“Our absence will make your negotiations easier,” pointed out Daniella. That was true. Most of Bayselle and Daniella were not on good terms. Most of the world and Daniella were not on good terms.

“Hmph,” sniffed Kat, forehead tightening at the reminder. “Perhaps I should join you instead.”

“I’m sorry Hezbellina didn’t cooperate with your plan to use her as an excuse to miss the meetings,” teased Alexander, lightly touching Kat’s stomach.

“You’re not serious.” Kat’s eyebrows rose. “Hezbellina?”

“Just softening you up for my real favorites,” he replied.

“This is a boy, anyway,” she said.

“You have been wrong every time,” Alexander pointed out, “but Hezberto is a rather wonderful name.”

At some point just before this, the conversation split. Daniella was busy quizzing Tansy on proper use of magic. The boy no one had named was busy encouraging a caterpillar he had found inching its way along a railing. Corin was arguing with his servant on how exactly to open the trunk, which entailed him struggling to open the trunk incorrectly and the annoyed servant unable to intervene until the prince-of-sorts admitted defeat. Rosaliy went forward to grip Hale’s arm and chatter about goings-on in Kianne. The royal couple continued chattering about their baby. Drake would have been happy to leave the couple alone, but he feared movement would burst the tenuous shield of invisibility.

“Are you completely certain there isn’t a chance he might be born today,” Kat asked hopefully, fingers caressing her stomach.

“Not a chance,” Alexander laughed. “Have you forgotten already?”

“You are very mobile,” she agreed, furrowing her brow. “You’re taking the elixir Talyrin brought for you?”

“Considering the twins were nearly the death of me five years ago, I am happy to take anything anyone tells me to.”

Kat frowned at the flippant response.

“Of course I did,” Alexander said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

The boy squeezed himself in between them. “You hear?” he demanded to the bump on Kat’s stomach. “You are supposed to be a boy.”

Katyrinna ruffled his dark mop of hair.

“Mama, look at my new friend!” bubbled the boy. He dug a toad out of his pocket and thrust it at her.

“He’s beautiful,” Kat cooed, petting the lumpy, gray toad on the head.

“How did you manage to sneak him on your person under Chandra’s watch?” Alexander asked, not seeing the beauty in the toad.

“He lives in the waterfall bath,” the boy explained.

“No,” corrected Alexander. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Since I’m going to be so good,” Tansy interrupted hopefully, clasping her hands and looking from her uncle to her mother, “I must deserve my present.”

“Presents!” Corin announced without waiting for further debate, throwing back the lid of the finally-open trunk. The twins peered inside, green eyes glowing with excitement. Corin pulled out a deep blue piece of fabric dotted with golden fireflies criss-crossing their way across the blue with glittering golden lines. When he pulled the stiff fabric from the trunk, a long, glistening ribbon spilled out behind. He passed it to Tansy, who hugged it with delight.

“It’s a kite!” exclaimed the boy, half in the trunk now, helping to pull out a sky blue kite decorated with a giant, soaring seabird.

There were plenty of “thank you’s” and hugs. Katyrinna’s twins might have been rambunctious and a little spoiled, but their gratefulness and joyful spirits were redemptive.

“Where’s Lil?” asked Corin, pulling out a deep purple kite with butterfly wings.

“Off on a survival expedition with Issabeth,” Alexander answered.

“That sounds horrible,” gagged Corin.

Rosaliy had returned to Drake’s side. “They are horrible,” she said quietly so only Drake could hear her, “and I grew up on a farm in the woods.”

The Head Sorceress did have a reputation for being someone nobody wanted to mess with.

“Let’s go fly them right now!” exclaimed Tansy.

“There’s hardly any wind today,” noted Corin with regret.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” chuckled Alexander. His eyes caught Rosaliy’s. “Would you keep watch over this?”

“Up for some kite-flying and freak wind storms?” she asked Drake.

He hesitated. As alarming as continuing the trend of slowly being absorbed into the royal family might be, this would keep him out of the meetings and away from Cliff, Matias, and the pirates.

“Would you rather listen to a few trade proposal speeches?” Rosaliy offered.

His answer was quick and enthusiastic. “I haven’t flown a kite in forever.”

“You’d better hurry up, then,” she laughed.

The children were already down the stairs and bounding away from the line of birch trees into a sunny clearing, followed by wide tails of colorful ribbon.

“Is all of that normal?” asked Drake.

“And then some. You haven’t even met the horses.”

Rosaliy’s attention was diverted by Daniella reentering the palace.

“You don’t like her,” Drake noticed.

She blinked at him, blue eyes bringing him back into focus. “Was I staring? I’m trying to break that habit. I swear she can read my thoughts.”

“Can she?” he asked. That did sound like a distinct possibility in this place.

“No,” Rosaliy grumbled, “she’s forbidden from using magic, but she is eerily skilled at reading people.” She went back to glaring at the now-closed palace doors.

This reaction was personal.

“You two have a history?”

“You’ve spent half a day dodging questions. I think I deserve one,” she grumbled in a fit of uncharacteristic question dodging. “You’ve heard of her, haven’t you? All the things she’s done?”

“She’s legendary,” Drake agreed.

“I would have used other words.”

“You don’t think people can change?” he asked.

“She’s proof that people can change,” admitted Rosaliy. “Her depth of knowledge of magic has been invaluable more than once, and she’s amazing with Tansy. I’m just not sure how much they can change. Or how susceptible they are to falling into old patterns, especially when those old patterns are, say, turning people into a dead army.”

“Mmm,” he murmured in unvoiced agreement. Of course people never really changed.

Just then a wind picked up.

Rosaliy stopped glaring at the innocent doors and snapped back to attention. “I’d better supervise before the poor birch trees are leveled. Again.”

What had Drake gotten himself into?