Page 4 of Princess of Air

“Plus,” I say, “a fifth would make you the proper middle child, Marcus, and I don’t think you’re ready to take my mantle as troublemaker.” Rather than being entertained by my wit, my siblings’ faces drop into exasperated expressions. Father suppresses a smile, though.

“Don’t you ever know when to stop?” Nina snaps.

“Not at all.” I flash her a smile. “It’s something I rather pride myself on.”

“This is serious.”

“No it isn’t. Rylan is about to be crowned as heir. Pomp and ceremony are a fantastic way to regain popularity. Then it won’t be long before we march through a parade of our royal weddings, followed by Ry’s coronation as king. We put on some good shows, and people forget all about us monsters up here in the palace.”

Rylan sighs. “You’re absurd.”

“I’m correct. Pop some gold and gemstones on that head of yours, and people will bask in the glory of your seismic power.”

“It isn’t only the fear of our powers.” Mother rubs her temples. “Rylan, darling, I know you think I took power from you, but it wasn’t my intention.” She takes his hand in hers. “It’s true that the four of you are more powerful than your grandfather or I ever were.” Grandfather scowls at that. “Having four minds and hearts to control the elements makes you formidable as a unit. But…”

“What?” The veins in Ry’s neck strain against his skin.

Father interjects. “Some wonder, if one person doesn’t control the magic, who’s to say which of those who do should rule the kingdom.”

Wine shudders in the glasses, and I tense for worse. People are questioning Ry’s claim to the throne?

“As far as I know,” Rylan says in a low voice, “being first-born is sufficient for every other title and court. How is it that a queen’s first-born son, who can, in fact, move mountains, is possibly not enough?”

“Our court has never been like any other,” Mother says. “Power to rule came with magic. With the magic split,”—she lets out a slow breath—“it’s agreed that each of the four of you have equal claim to the throne.”

Oh, no. A tremor rattles the palace. Wine glasses go toppling over. I hold out one hand to raise them into the air, righting them before they spill. The other, I wave toward the cake to keep it from toppling, blowing the candles out while I’m at it. I don’t suppose Rylan will be quite in the mood.

“Hasn’t enough of my birthright been taken?” As the words are bellowed, I wrap the room in a shield to keep this conversation private. His outburst would be heard on the other end of the palace. “We can’t have four rulers!”

“We won’t.” Mother folds her hands together. “All four of you will have the opportunity to prove yourselves. There will be a series of trials, and the winner—whoever passes and is deemed most worthy—will be the next ruler of Alchos.”

Chapter three

My hands drop, but everything remains suspended in mid-air. She didn’t just say… We’re not…

“I have to compete for my crown?” Rylan springs to his feet. “This is outrageous! I’ve been preparing for this my entire life!”

A cool waft brushes my face of its own accord, focusing me. This is so unfair. Rylan…

“You shouldn’t be worried then.” Marcus tries to grab a wineglass from the air, and I let everything settle back into place. “You have the advantage over us, so what’s to fear?” He looks at our older brother over his glass as he takes a sip.

“I’m not worried. The whole thing is degrading.”

Nina scoffs. “Sorry to drag you down to our level.”

The four of us have always bickered and bantered, but this is different. I don’t want us set against each other. “Mother, don’t you see what this will do to us? How can you allow this?”

“My loves, it’s the only way—”

“No,” I say. “It can be whatever way you say. You’re the queen.”

Grandmother offers me a slight smile. “Arabella, you’ll soon learn that being queen doesn’t mean the world bends to your will.”

“I’m only to be a consort. Mother is sovereign.” Saying only a consort to Grandmother sounds unkind, but she knows what I mean.

Nina cocks her head. “What happens if Ara wins?”

“She won’t,” Ry growls.

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