41. Dagmara

Just when Dagmara returned to the table, flashing a smile at the two unsuspecting men, the bell tolled outside. She jolted upright and peered out the window, seeing a massive group of men—and only some women—had gathered in front of the steeple. There were nearly fifty of them. All the men were shirtless, and the women wore trousers. On the third chime of the bell, the crowd let out a mighty roar and took off down the hill to the exit of the city at the front gates.

“What is going on?” Dagmara asked.

Claude leaned closer to her in his chair, getting a better view of the street below. “Ah,” Claude laughed, “I remember that game.”

Lionel smiled. “Soulaye.”

“What is that?” Dagmara asked.

“A sport.”

Dagmara’s eyes lit up. She used to love playing sports with Aleksy before her health worsened. “With fifty people? How do you play?”

“More than fifty,” Sabien said. He approached the table, peering out the window. His proximity made Dagmara’s stomach curl.

Claude spoke again, barely giving Sabien a nod of greeting, “I’m sure Sailonne is playing against…Lousevve?”

“Correct,” Lionel replied.

Claude continued, “The goal of the game is to bring the ball back to the city’s steeple. Someone places a ball directly between the city centers, and on the third chime, it’s a race to see who gets there first.”

“That’s it?”

A breathless laugh escaped his lips. “It’s not easy. There are no rules, and it can get pretty violent. My father and I used to join, and the game would go on for hours.”

“Sounds like fun.” More fun than discussing taxes.

“It was.”

Dagmara stood. “Then let’s join.”

Lionel let out a loud laugh. “I am far too old for that game anymore. My body does not recover the same way it used to. However, I’m sure they would love to see you two play with them.”

Claude shook his head. “I would love to, but I don’t want Princess Magdalena getting injured. I’m sure I’d receive a Scribestone from her mother, and I would be disowned before the marriage.”

The governor laughed. “Let’s not lose the best thing that has happened to Ilusauri over a game of Soulaye.”

“I’m sure the Princess will surprise you,” Sabien spoke. He had switched to Azuremi, his accent thick. “She is more…durable than you think, Your Majesty.”

Claude gave his captain an incredulous stare. There was utter silence in the room, aside from both Pierre and Martine shifting their stance, as they understood the language.

Sabien was bold enough to let a smile crease on his face.

“What did you say?” Lionel asked in Ilusaurian, his eyes darting between the captain and the king.

Dagmara could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “You don’t have to worry about me, Claude,” she blurted out. “How about I join while you three gentlemen finish up your conversation? It was lovely to see you again, Lionel.”

His eyebrows were raised on his forehead, an impressed frown on his face. “It was my pleasure. Your Majesty,” he shifted his gaze to Claude, “forgive if I’m overstepping, but it would be foolish not to accompany the beautiful girl in her first game of Soulaye. Don’t crush her excitement. I certainly remember your excitement when you used to play with your father.”

The last statement seemed to hit a nostalgic chord within Claude. “I’m sure we will see each other soon,” Claude concluded before rising from the table. He turned to Dagmara. “Shall we?”

Dagmara bounded out of the room before Claude could change his mind. Martine was hot on her tail, while Pierre and Sacha were more hesitant to wait for Claude’s approval. Sabien took up the rear, in no hurry. They burst out of the manor and raced down the hill to catch up with the crowd. Running down the hill was far easier than trying to walk up.

Azurem had nothing like this—a game between neighboring villages. Excitement was burning at Dagmara’s fingertips. The wind soared through her hair, and she forced her legs to catch up with her body as she tore down the mainstreet, causing the people remaining in the city to stare at her. She saw the crowd wasn’t too far away. Someone must have already seized the ball and was bringing it back toward Sailonne. There was a large forest across the open field, and Dagmara assumed Lousevve was just beyond that.

There were nearly a hundred people scattered across the field. Dagmara couldn’t even see where the ball was, but she only assumed the tangle of bodies a few yards away was fighting over it.

Dagmara skidded to a halt beside a young boy who was trying to catch his breath. He was maybe nine or ten years old, his skin tan from the burning sun, and he had a round face. She was forced to catch her breath herself, bending over and using her knees for support. She stole the potion from her waistband and chugged it, knowing it was hydrating her triple the amount as water. Martine skidded to a halt on her left, and she heard Claude and his two guards slow their speed a few paces behind them. Martine wasn’t even panting, making Dagmara realize the distance wasn’t as far as it felt.

Dagmara turned her attention to the young boy. “Which village are you from?” Dagmara asked in Ilusaurian. The way the boy jerked back to face her made her feel like her accent was still awful.

The boy looked up at her, his eyes large. “Sailonne,” he said. “Who are you?”

“Magdalena. And you?”

“Hugo.”

“And this is Claude,” Dagmara gestured to the king. “He’s playing for Lousevve, but he’s out of practice.”

Claude’s eyebrow rose. “I know this game better than you.”

“Your Majesty!” Hugo exclaimed, straightening. He then took a formal bow. “I can’t believe—is it really you? So you must be the new queen!”

“Well, we will see,” Dagmara said, flashing Claude a glance.

“This is a dangerous game,” Claude warned. His warning was followed by loud yelling from the crowd beyond.

“Are you scared?” she taunted.

His jaw shifted. “No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“We should be on the same team,” Claude suggested.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I get competitive.”

“Oh good, me too,” Dagmara said.

“Don’t worry,” the suave voice sounded behind them. Sabien approached the group, sauntering down the hill. “I can be on the princess’s team.”

“Against me?” Claude clarified.

Sabien shrugged, tugging his shirt out from his belt. “It’s just a game.” Pulling his shirt off his head, he threw the garment to the side, his tan skin already slick with sweat. “Right, Princess?”

Dagmara cleared her throat. By the guardians, he was attractive. “I don’t care whose team you’re on, Captain. There’s no doubt Claude will beat you regardless.”

Claude’s eyebrows raised. Finally, he smiled, and gave in. “I’ll take Sacha and Pierre, you take Martine.”

“No,” Dagmara replied. “Pierre and Martine should be on the same team. I’ll take Sacha.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Martine said under her breath.

“It’s just a game.” Dagmara smiled. “Sacha?”

The burly guard let out an affirmative grunt.

“Fine,” Claude let in. “Pierre and Martine with me.”

With one swift movement, Claude grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off. Dropping it to the grass, he revealed his broad chest. He kept eye contact with Dagmara as he did it, as if telling her this was what she had asked for. “Yes, I’m playing.”

Butterflies erupted in Dagmara’s stomach, and she forced herself to keep eye contact with Claude as opposed to staring at his accentuated muscles. It was beyond difficult. She thought Sabien was attractive, but there was something captivating about Claude that made her feel drawn to him in a way no one else had made her feel.

Claude started onto the field, and Dagmara and Hugo were quick to catch up with him, the guards trailing behind. Dagmara didn’t miss the way Martine eyed Pierre as he stripped. She hoped the way that she had stared at the king hadn’t been as obvious.

“We can’t play against the king!” Hugo yelled.

All at once, the shouting and rough-housing died down. It was as if the entire field went silent. Everyone stilled and watched as Claude approached.

Everyone exclaimed his title before bowing.

Claude froze in his tracks.

A teenage boy with a bruise covering the right side of his face had the ball in his hands. He approached his king cautiously before throwing the ball. It was heavy, thudding to the ground and bouncing once before landing a few paces in front of Claude’s feet.

Claude remained still. Dagmara wondered how long it had been since he had interacted with his people this closely. He had become the imaginary figurehead his father didn’t want the king of Ilusauri to be. She assumed the late king of Ilusauri would want Claude to play Soulaye with his people, just as he had.

But everyone was scared of Claude now. There was no doubt that they watched him with fear.

Dagmara rushed forward, shoving Claude’s shoulder with as much force as she could muster. It was time to prove that Claude was simply one of them. He only stumbled slightly, but it made her point. Dagmara raced forward, stealing the ball and yelling, “Let’s go, Sailonne!”

The crowd erupted in cheers and cries as the game resumed, and Claude joined them, screaming, “For Lousevve!” An even louder cheer filled the air.

The game resumed, and Dagmara had the ball for mere seconds. The teenage boy clobbered her in the side, sending her crashing to the ground. The ball flew from her hands and was gone from her sight in a flash.

She knew her dress was already marked with grass stains and dirt from the hard fall. She pushed herself to a seated position, catching her bearings. Her shoulder was already killing her from the force of the blow.

Claude was standing before her. “You alright?” he asked, extending his hand down.

“You can’t help the other team!” she scolded.

“I have her,” Sabien said, cutting between them. Before Dagmara could object, he hoisted her underneath the arms, and she was on her feet in one swift motion.

The side of Claude’s mouth lifted into a smile, his eyes only on her. “Fine, you asked for it. You already shoved me once.”

She shrugged. “I’ll do it again. Better be careful.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

Hugo whipped past them, chasing the group. Dagmara couldn’t keep up, for her brain was already spinning from exhaustion, but she let the boys have at it. Claude raced along after them, Pierre and Sacha hot on his trail.

Sabien stepped closer to her, his naked chest against her back. He leaned in to whisper, “Isn’t it sexier when we’re on the same team, and you’re not fighting me?”

Dagmara jerked away from him. “If you don’t stop the inappropriate comments I will start fighting you.”

He smirked. “Noted.” Then he left her side, chasing after the group.

Martine was the only one who remained nearby, her attention shifting between Dagmara and the captain as he retreated.

Instead of chasing after the group, already feeling her heart pound excessively against her chest, she chose to walk casually toward the shade of the trees. Martine followed.

“I can sit by myself,” Dagmara said, taking a seat on the brown grass. “You can play.”

“That’s fine,” Martine sat beside Dagmara, her eyes fixated on Pierre the entire time. “This is more fun anyway.” She flashed Dagmara a grin, and Dagmara couldn’t help but laugh as her own gaze traveled back to the men on the field.

The game was more violent than Dagmara thought. Sometimes, the ball would get lost in the middle of a pile up with more than ten men fighting for it. She could’ve sworn she saw someone break their wrist when they fell. There had to be some reward from this, right? Or was this what they did for fun?

Dagmara found it riveting. She remained in the canopy of the trees, seated. She hated that she didn’t have the stamina to play and would risk becoming dizzy. Luckily, it appeared that she was only concerned about breaking a bone, so sitting on the sidelines wouldn’t raise too much suspicion.

The game never paused for a breather. Pierre and Sacha used the opportunity to wrestle with one another, and Sabien and Claude even shoved one another. She had no idea who was on each team.

In one instance, Sabien collided with Claude, knocking him off course from the ball. Claude wasn’t afraid to tumble with Sabien onto the ground. The two struggled against one another, both equally matched. They were both pure muscle and sweat, and Dagmara had to suppress the heat that raced through her body at the sight of them. When the ball was yards away and the two were still wrestling, she was uncertain whether it was for the sport or not anymore. Sacha approached, and the king and his captain broke away panting, both smart enough not to go up against the giant guard. She saw Sabien’s lips move as he said something to the king, but he was too far away to hear, and she couldn’t read his lips when he spoke Ilusaurian.

The group moved toward Sailonne, then back through the forest in the direction of Lousevve. The forest was the hardest area to play in. People knocked into trees and others dodged until the ball was at the center of another violent pile. Then, it slipped free, skidding in Dagmara’s direction. Adrenaline lit through her body, seeing the ball’s proximity. She would be stupid to not take this opportunity. She rose from the shade of the tree, finding her strength as she approached, the ball rolling closer.

Someone knocked into her side, derailing her. He grabbed her firmly around the waist as they fell to the ground, and he caught her with his other hand to lessen the blow as she fell onto her back. Claude was on top of her, grinning.

“That was not fair!” Dagmara objected.

The yelling from the crowd seemed to get distant. The ball must have been snatched away.

“I’m only getting you back for shoving me earlier,” Claude responded.

She knew he was only bracing himself on top of her with one arm. She shoved his elbow, collapsing his arm before using the momentum to roll on top of him, pinning him down.

“I’m also competitive,” she replied. She was straddling him, her hands against his bare chest holding him down.

The smile that creased onto his lips revealed that he was impressed.

Dagmara was keenly aware that Martine, Pierre, and Sacha were standing a few paces away, watching her. She could nearly feel the weight of Sabien’s gaze on her as he approached. But for some reason, she didn’t care. Her attention was fixated on the king she had pinned to the ground. Luckily, the crowd was chasing the ball toward the opposite side of the forest, so there were no other witnesses to the scene.

Then, the sound of wings flapping caught Dagmara off guard. She ducked as a blackbird swooped over her head and landed on the ground beside them. Its beady eyes with yellow rings seemed to stare into Dagmara’s soul. She felt the muscles in Claude’s chest instantly engage when he saw it.

Not now—not here!

Claude shoved her to the side with a force she hadn’t witnessed before. She skidded on the ground, feeling the dirt scrape against her hands.

“Go away!” Claude’s voice boomed. He picked up a handful of dirt as he stood, chucking it at the bird.

No, no, no!

Dagmara’s thoughts screamed in her head. He couldn’t act like this out here. This was the entire reason he didn’t leave the castle. If the villagers came back this way—if he used his magic on them…

Pierre had her under the arms, pulling her to her feet, much like he had the first day on the balcony. “Run, Princess!”

“No!” she shoved Pierre off her.

Claude picked up a branch and swung it toward the blackbird. The bird took flight, soaring toward the canopy.

Sacha rushed forward to confiscate Claude’s new weapon.

Claude whirled to face him, turning his back to Dagmara, and Sacha crumbled to the ground. His massive body shook the earth as he landed. She couldn’t see Claude’s eyes, but she knew they were pure silver. She had heard what Claude said this time:

“Sleep.”

She had to stop this. He could terrorize the entire nearby village.

But how? If Claude turned on her and compelled her as well, she would collapse. If his compulsion magic worked on her, her secret would be exposed. Magic wasn’t supposed to work on other guardians. It wouldn’t work on the real Princess Magdalena.

“Princess!” Martine screamed.

The blackbird dove at Dagmara next, and she covered her face, remembering the way its talons seared across her cheek the last time. Then she saw the flames Claude was conjuring from his mind. Should she use a flash bomb? She couldn’t leave him alone, not with the villagers so close…not when he would never leave the castle again if his citizens saw him like this.

She had to end this somehow, and only one idea came to mind.

She raced forward, grabbing Claude by his arm. As he rotated, he swung the branch at her. Dagmara easily dodged, expecting that much, before she grabbed his face, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his.

She had kissed men before, so kissing her fake fiancé on a whim should have meant nothing to her. However, she wasn’t expecting her entire body to ignite, her stomach to turn inside out, and her breath to be taken away.

She heard a thud as the branch landed hard on the earth beside them. For a brief moment, Claude grabbed her by the hip and pulled her tight against him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue swooped inside her mouth and she let out a soft moan. Chills flooded her body, and she pulled him closer. Everything in the world seemed to vanish, and it was only him and her, their bodies against each other and their mouths unable to separate.

Then the king jerked away, releasing her as he backed up.

Dagmara felt as though he ripped something away from her. She faltered slightly, now feeling the fear return once more. When she met his gaze, she saw no more silver in his eyes.

He stared back at her in bewilderment, his mouth slightly agape. He was like a chiseled statue, his chest glistening with sweat.

Dagmara’s lips tingled, and her heart pounded furiously in her chest, having nothing to do with her health.

“Pierre, ready the carriages,” Claude said, his voice low. “Sabien, wake Sacha.”

Pierre scampered away, charging at lightning speed back up the hill. Sabien approached Sacha on the ground, but kept his gaze fixated on Dagmara.

“I’m sorry,” Dagmara said. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I nearly took you out.”

She shrugged, knowing dodging the branch was the least of her concerns.

“This is what I was afraid of.”

“I know—”

“And you stayed,” Claude said, disbelief in every note of his voice. “You tried…to help me.”

Dagmara knew what everyone else usually did. On the balcony, they left him alone. The night of the engagement ball, they left him alone to fight for himself. Had no one truly stepped in before?

“I know you think I’m a Mad King—”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” she blurted out.

“But I am,” he said, speaking no louder than a whisper. “I have had apparitions chasing me ever since the day my parents died.”

“I see the blackbird too.”

His expression shifted, his head inclining slightly. He took a step closer. “What?”

Her voice was barely audible, “I see it too.”

Claude’s eyes narrowed as though he were trying to see through a lie.

She continued, “I don’t know how…or why. That’s why I tried to send Reon away the night of the engagement ball. I saw it before you did.”

He put the pieces together in his mind, remembering that night, and she could see that he believed her. “I don’t understand how that’s possible. The world shifts for you too? The Void?”

“No…” Dagmara admitted. “Just the bird.”

Then Claude touched his fingers to his lips. “No one has done that for me before. No one has been able to pull me out of the other place.”

“I would do it again,” she said, much to her surprise. She could still feel her pulse racing.

He stepped even closer, removing the space between them. Her breath hitched, picturing his lips on hers once more. Then he lifted his hand slowly and placed it against her cheek. She could feel a slight tremor in his palm as he caressed her face.

“I don’t want you to kiss me like that again,” he said. His fingers trailed from her cheek to her neck. “The next time we kiss, I want to be completely sane, so I don’t miss a single moment of it. I don’t want any guards around either so that I have you all to myself.”

If their kiss earlier wasn’t a true kiss in his mind, she couldn’t imagine what was. Her knees nearly collapsed underneath her, and the emotions rushing through her body were overwhelming.

“Yes,” she replied, her breath shaky.

“I honestly didn’t see more to this marriage than politics,” Claude said, “but you’re not what I anticipated. I never anticipated feeling…anything, let alone what I feel now.”

She swallowed, unable to find her voice again.

He let his hand fall from her cheek before saying, “I’m so fortunate you’re mine, Magdalena.”

Magda.

At that moment, her emotions tumbled into a new form. The bliss and nerves that previously filled her senses were now cascading into devastation as she realized…she could easily fall for the king. And there was no way this would end well for her.

If she found solid evidence of his involvement in the assassination, the marriage would be over as quickly as it had come about. Azurem would declare war and Claude would be brought to justice.

However, if he wasn’t at fault for the assassination, then the marriage would remain. But Dagmara would leave and Magda would take her true spot.

Either way, Claude and her would never be together. There was no Claude and her. It was always Claude and Magda.

And she would never be Magda.