The Lost Princess Returns Read online

  “If I’d stuck to expectations, I’d have been married advantageously to some girl who’d been raised to be little more than a slave groomed to please me,” Harlan bit out.

  His vehemence took me aback—definitely not the gentle boy I’d known—but I also understood what had driven him. “And Ursula is nothing like that.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it and smiled with some chagrin. “My Essla is nothing like that,” he agreed. “The first time I saw her, she wore filthy fighting leathers and was covered in road dust. She stalked into King Uorsin’s court—and you have to understand everyone was terrified of him—and proceeded to outwit him like her tongue was a sword.”

  “And you fell in love,” I supplied, smiling at the image. I could just picture it.

  “I did,” he agreed. “Within minutes. Though I had to wear down Essla’s formidable defenses. She was no easy conquest.”

  “Thus the perfect woman for you,” I replied, enjoying how he lit up speaking of her.

  “True,” he admitted. “And you, with Ochieng?”

  I felt my lips curving in a soft smile, my gaze going to where Ochieng clung to Violet’s back, coaching her in a water battle with Bimur, ridden by Ayela, who seemed to be winning. “With Ochieng it took a very long time,” I said. “He conducted a campaign of such subtle wooing that I didn’t realize what he was about until I found my heart entwined with his.”

  “I’d like to get to know him,” Harlan said.

  “To know Ochieng is to get to know the elephants,” I told him.

  “I’d like to do that, too.” He grinned, then sobered. “I’m so happy you found the elephants.”

  For the second time that morning, tears pricked my eyes. “I wish you had been with me. I thought of you every day. We should’ve had the elephants together.”

  He wiped his own tears away, unembarrassed by his emotions. “We have them now. I’d love to get to know your elephants, too.”

  “Come on then.” I held out my hand, and he took it. Something inside me—a piece that had felt broken for so long I’d forgotten to notice it anymore—shifted and settled again into place.

  True to her word—really, I should’ve expected nothing less—Ursula called a strategy meeting that afternoon. Oh, she pretended to defer to the local king and queen, Rayfe and Andromeda, but it was clear to me that no one forgot she was the High Queen and still in charge of the strategy.

  We’d all cleaned up from frolicking in the surf, then Harlan had eaten lunch with me, Ochieng and the children. They’d all been very interested to get to know their famous uncle. His namesake and our only son, Shaharlan, had been in raptures. I’d finally shooed them off and now Ochieng, Harlan and I entered the large council chamber carved into the cliff side, truly a marvel of engineering. Or of magic. Difficult to say with these Tala. Spotting Ursula bending over some charts, deep in conversation with a stern-looking soldier type, Harlan went immediately to her.

  “Are you doing all right, my love?” Ochieng asked in the Nyamburan dialect, sliding an arm around my waist.

  I leaned into him, his warm, strong body so familiar to me after so many years of sharing his bed. He’d braced me through all four of our children’s births, and through emotional trials as well, unfailingly and generously giving me all of his heart. I was beyond grateful to have him with me on this new journey. Ursula’s words still chased each other around my head. She was right that I hadn’t really thought about what it would mean to return to the Imperial Palace, to face the place of my nightmares.

  To confront my mother again.

  “Yes,” I replied in the same language. “It’s just a lot, you know?”

  “I do know.” He waved a hand at the gathering, an odd assortment of the wild-looking, long-haired Tala. A man covered in scaled tattoos like a dragon, and who was king of some nearby islands also loomed. “There is so much new and startling here,” Ochieng continued, “that I feel as if I must have fallen asleep and be dreaming one of my own tales.” He smiled softly at me, concern in his eyes. “As unsettled as I am, I know it’s nothing to what you must be feeling.”

  “Excuse me,” said a petite woman holding a newborn. She was the wife of the dragon-tattooed king—I’d forgotten her name already—and though she lacked the markings, she was as deeply tanned as he. With her small stature, bronze-flecked brown eyes and sun-streaked brown hair, she reminded me of the nyrri, the wood sprites of Dasnarian tales. “I know it’s beyond rude of me to interrupt,” she continued, “but I’m so curious about the language you’re speaking. Is that the language of Chiyajua?”

  “You are not rude at all, Queen Dafne Nakoa KauPo,” Ochieng replied in Common Tongue, bowing. Of course Ochieng would remember her name and title. “Chiyajua is a large continent and has never been united as your Thirteen Kingdoms were with a single trade tongue, so there is no language that can be pointed to as Chiyajuan. Ivariel and I were speaking the dialect peculiar to our village of Nyambura, and the surrounding region.”

  Her eyes sparked with interest. “It sounds like a pitched language, but with glottals similar to the dialects of our southern kingdoms, such as Elcinea and Nemeth.”

  “Indeed!” Ochieng smiled broadly. “The languages must have a common root because I readily learned some of the Elcinea tongues when I first traveled to the Port of Ehas as a young man.”

  “Is that where you acquired Common Tongue?” she asked. “Your command of it is flawless.”

  “You flatter me. I only wish it to be flawless, but I do practice assiduously. As Ivariel and I have been raising our family, I have traveled less—staying close to home where I’m needed—and few there care to converse with me. I mostly expand my knowledge of the language by reading. I have a most interesting book of tales from the Isles of Remus that includes many words I don’t know. Perhaps you could translate them for me?”

  “I’d be happy to as I’d love to see that book. The Remus Isles have incorporated some of the language of Kooncelund, so they may not be Common Tongue words at all.”

  “I have the book with me, do you think I have time to fetch it before the meeting begins?”

  “You’ve lost him now,” said a voice in my ear.

  I turned to find Queen Andromeda standing beside me. She rested her hands on her very pregnant belly, wry amusement in her storm gray eyes. I’d describe her as a softer version of Ursula—not so sharp and steely, her long hair much darker with only hints of red—but magic seemed to rise from her like the thick mist billowing off the river in the mornings back home.

  “Is the losing of husbands to conversations about books and language a common occurrence here?” I asked.

  “Yes, if Dafne is involved,” she replied very seriously, but with a twinkle lightening her eyes with crystal flecks.

  “I’ll be on guard,” I replied in the same tone. “I appreciate the warning, Queen Andromeda.”

  “Please.” She wrinkled her nose. “Everyone calls me Andi.”

  “Except for me, my Andromeda.” King Rayfe appeared at her side like a predator sliding out of ambush. Where his wife’s hair was the sort of black that verges into bloodred, his went towards blue. Glossy as an obsidian dagger, falling long and straight, it reminded me of a mane as much as anything. His eyes were deeply and radiantly blue, striking in an already charismatic face. I’d have known him for a wolf anywhere. “Have your people received appropriate accommodations and the provisions they need, Ivariel?” he inquired with smooth charm.

  “Yes, thank you very much. I know you didn’t expect several dozen elephants to be dumped in your laps—and they require a great deal of food.”

  “The Tala love animals,” he replied easily, running a hand over Andi’s hair and smiling at her with affection. “We are delighted to learn more about your elephants. Some of our people are able to take that form, but it’s unusual enough that the animal is nearly as mythical to us as Zyr’s gríobhth form.”

  My gaze slid of its own accord to the wild-look
ing Tala man leaning against the wall on the far side of the room, talking with Kral’s former wife, Karyn. He was intent on her—seeming as if he was trying to convince her of something, in fact—but her gaze was on me. Oh, she averted her eyes immediately, demurely lowering them in fine female Dasnarian fashion. Very little else about her demeanor spoke of Dasnarian feminine meekness, however. She carried a quiver and an unstrung bow—and carried herself with a kind of confident determination no chit married off to, then divorced by Kral should’ve been able to muster. She’d told me I’d been an inspiration to her, which seemed beyond unlikely. The Tala man—Zyr, apparently—tugged on her hair and though she blushed, her gaze that flashed up to his held fire. Interesting.

  “A gríobhth form?” I asked.

  “You might know it as a gryphon,” Ochieng supplied, rejoining me.

  “Do you know everything?” I asked in exasperation.

  “Yes,” he replied, as if surprised I’d even asked. “You’ve been married to me this long and you still haven’t realized that?”

  I shook my head and raised a brow. “Already weary of your new love?”

  “Not at all. We’ve planned a tryst for later when we’ll snuggle up with some books.” He waggled his own brows at me.

  “You might be wary of yon dragon king,” I advised, casting a wary glance at the stern and towering man.

  “La! I have an army of elephants. He doesn’t frighten me.” Ochieng grinned broadly.

  “King Nakoa KauPo can summon storms,” Andi confided.

  “Truly?” Ochieng regarded the dragon king with newfound respect. “Handy skill. I wonder if he could do the reverse—we have a rainy season that could stand with shortening.”

  I elbowed him. “Don’t be mucking with the balance of nature.”

  He gave me a wounded look. “I said shortening, not banishing.”

  Rayfe laughed, taking Andi’s hand. “See? Other married couples bicker, too.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start with me. And they’ve been together long enough to have adult children. We’ve barely started.” She ran a hand over her swollen belly and I followed the gesture with a practiced eye.

  “Another few weeks to go?” I asked.

  “It looks that way,” she agreed, and I recalled that Andi also had the gift of foresight. She likely knew exactly when the baby would come. “Don’t tense,” she said to Rayfe, squeezing his hand.

  He grimaced, gaze going to her belly. “I’m working on it.” But he didn’t look happy.

  Ochieng clapped him on the shoulder. “It doesn’t get easier, standing by while the woman you love labors so hard, but remember that she depends on you to care for her. This is a very important job, that one no one else can do, because no one else knows her as well as you do.”

  Rayfe met Andi’s gaze. “Think that’s true?”

  “I know it is,” she replied, and they fell silent, eyes intent on the other, making me wonder if they could speak to each other without audible words.

  “All right, people,” Ursula called, straightening her sheaf of papers. “Let’s have a conversation about dealing with this enormous, unstoppable navy still heading our way. Ivariel, this is your party now. What’s your plan?”

  ~ 4 ~

  I’d come a long way from the broken girl I’d been, and though I’d taken on various leadership roles in the D’Tiembo family, both domestic and martial, I’d also worked hard to shed the imperious arrogance drilled into me through the focused efforts of my ambitious mother. Losing that attitude had been partly to hide my identity—No princess! Kaja’s ghost reminded me—but I’d also been more than relieved to rid myself of the shallow and vain Imperial Princess Jenna.

  In many ways, she represented the worst of Dasnaria. Had my first marriage been less brutal, I might now be exactly like my mother. I might’ve conspired with her to resurrect the cult of Deyrr and the evil High Priestess. I had no gift of foresight, but I could clearly see that other self I could have become. Harlan possessed an inherent goodness I’d lacked. If Jenna hadn’t been broken beyond repair, burnt to ash, then resurrected as Ivariel, I might not have had the cruelty and ambition excised from my being.

  I knew I still retained much of that imperious tendency to take charge and fling orders about—Ochieng never failed to remind me, and I’d seen my new heart sisters take note of it—and so being truly in charge felt like a dangerous dance taking me too close to the flame that had birthed me.

  And yet, I also knew that this war was mine to wage. This was my unfinished business.

  So, though I didn’t much care to take charge of this gathering of monarchs and magic workers, all eyes were on me, thanks to Ursula. She was giving me an expectant stare, probably knowing exactly how little I liked this ball she’d lobbed at me. And Ochieng, who did indeed know me better than anyone, poked me in the small of my back with a pointy finger, prodding me forward.

  “Let’s sit,” I said, moving to the chair closest to me. The big table was oval, which made it more egalitarian, but the large chairs at the end farthest from the door clearly belonged to Rayfe and Andi, as the local royalty. Watching the rest of them arrange themselves around the table gave me a few moments to assess the alignments and personalities of the assembly.

  “Is there an update on the progress of the ships Hestar has sent against you?” I inquired of Ursula, since she’d been going over the papers.

  “I spoke with Jepp a bit ago,” Andi answered instead, then smiled at my surprise and tapped her temple. Oh, she meant she’d mentally reached across that distance. Sorcery indeed. “Jepp and Kral say that Nakoa’s storm has the navy sailing in circles still, but that it seems to be breaking up.”

  “I can bend the forces of nature to my will for only so long,” the dragon king inserted in a low, rumbling voice.

  “We’re indebted to you for the breathing room,” Ursula told him, and he inclined his head. “How long do we have?”

  “A day or two,” he said. “I unhappily regret it cannot be more.”

  “That doesn’t give us much time, but I understand.” She looked at me. “We have ships sailing to confront Hestar’s navy, to supplement the ones there with the Hákyrling, but we are gravely outnumbered. If it’s at all possible, I’d prefer to avoid a battle entirely.”

  I had to admire her for that. Battles only got the soldiers killed while the perpetrators stayed home safe and swathed in silks. “We heard from the High Priestess of Deyrr’s own mouth that my mother, Dowager Empress Hulda, is behind this attack. Do we believe the emperor is aligned with her?” I asked the latter of Harlan.

  He dipped his chin in grim affirmation. “Jepp saw Hestar engaged in… unsavory activities with the High Priestess at the Imperial Palace.”

  I wasn’t at all surprised at Hestar’s ambition—or his perversions—but he and Hulda had never been political bedfellows. Quite the opposite, and I said as much.

  “We think they began colluding only recently,” Harlan supplied. “Since you and Kral were her only children, once Kral defected, Hulda lost her game piece in the conniving for the throne. With Hestar on the throne, it makes sense that she’d have to cozy up to him, especially as everyone assumes you are dead.”

  “Not everyone believes that,” Karyn said, then blushed at my raised brow. “I mean, I beg your pardon for correcting you, Consort, but—”

  “Can we say that the previous rules abolishing titles and apologies for purposes of streamlining discussion are still in place?” Andi asked with gentle exasperation.

  “Of course…” Karyn replied, and I heard the pause where she mentally added the title, but she gamely kept going. “The legend of the lost princess of Dasnaria is pervasive and often repeated, at least among women.” She gave me a shy smile. “I grew up on the whispered stories of how you escaped a terrible marriage and went overseas to gather your power and allies. Many believe you will return in triumph some day, like the legendary heroes of old. Only for women.”

  Beside
me, Ochieng wiped a hand over his mouth, clearly restraining a sarcastic comment about my heroic status, and I slid him a narrow glare of warning. “Unfortunately, I am only a mortal woman.”

  “Your proposed return is rather uncannily close to the legend Karyn describes, however,” Ursula pointed out, tapping her callused fingers on the arm of her chair. “You did travel far away, gained new skills, and will be returning with a magical army of allies. You’d be a fool not to take advantage of the potency of that myth come real, and the people’s yearning for you to be their savior.”

  She had a point, though I didn’t love the idea. No princess! Surely posing as a goddess was even worse. I decided to focus on the details. “Am I returning with an army of magical allies, though?” I asked pointedly. “I have my family and people, including the elephants, but that hardly qualifies.”

  “The elephants will seem as dazzling mythical beasts to the Dasnarians,” Ochieng put in.

  “Karyn and I are going with you,” Zyr said, holding up their interlaced hands. “We got skunked on the battle, so we want in on this part. And Karyn would like to visit her family.”

  “Yes,” Karyn agreed. “My father will no doubt wish to interrogate my new husband.” She added a sweet smile at Zyr’s stricken jolt.

  “As I offered before,” said the dark-haired woman who resembled Zyr, “I’m willing to go, and Marskal with me.” She indicated the stern soldier who’d been reporting to Ursula, then pointed to herself. “I’m Zynda,” she clarified, “the one who can become a dragon.”

  “I’d love to see Dasnaria,” Dafne said wistfully, “but Nakoa and I should return home, to take care of our own islands and this one.” She shifted the sleeping infant in her arms. “But Kiraka—the big gold dragon—is interested to go with you.”

  My magical army did seem to be growing. “Anyone else?”