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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.”