Stolen Songbird(47)

“Victoria and Vincent are continually having contests to determine which one of them is head of their household,” Marc replied. “Sprinting, rock throwing, javelin tossing, breath holding, handstands… You’ll get the picture soon enough. They’ll probably want you to judge.”

“But Victoria’s a girl,” I protested. Although not like any girl I knew. She was dressed in a coat and trousers like her brother, and only the long braid hanging down her back and her slightly more refined features gave her away as female. “Even if she was born minutes before him, wouldn’t he still inherit his father’s title?”

Marc started laughing. “Best you not ever mention such an idea to Vic,” he said, his shoulders shaking. “She has no time for the limitations of what she terms ‘ridiculous human ideologies’. And besides, their barony was actually passed down to them from their mother. For trolls, the child with the most formidable magic inherits – regardless of whether the troll is male or female, or who was born first.”

“Oh,” I breathed, liking the idea very much.

“The twins, however, are equal in all things, including magic,” Marc continued. “I expect they will be content to share their title for the rest of their lives.”

“Sort of share,” I giggled as the two giants collided with each other, hopping wildly to keep from toppling over.

Both trolls looked up at us.

“Hello there, Marc!” Vincent bellowed. His eyes fixed on me and he set his foot down.

“Disqualification!” Victoria shouted, but her brother wasn’t listening.

He barreled over to us and fell on his knees in front of me. “My lady! You are even more beautiful up close!”

I thanked him and let him kiss my hand, until his sister elbowed him out of the way. “Vincent, you are entirely unoriginal. I am Victoria de Gand, Baroness de Louvois, my lady.” Vincent scowled at her, but he was ignored. “Allow me to say,” she continued, “you are as lovely as a flower in bloom. Especially now that your face is less scabby.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling at them. “Are you by any chance the Vincent that sat on His Highness’s face when he was a child?”

He shook with laugher. “Yes, indeed, my lady. Though I couldn’t manage the same feat now. Tristan would toss me across the city.”

“True,” Victoria agreed. “No one out-magics Tristan, except for his Majesty. And Ana?s.” They said the last bit together with an eye roll. “She’s a looker, our Ana?s,” Vincent said. “But she’s got the personality of one of those prickly fellers. You know, the ones with the quills.”

“Porcupines?” I guessed.

Vincent pointed at me. “That’s the one. Personality of a porcupine.” He sighed happily. “I do love alliteration.”

“I trust you two can manage to keep the lady entertained for the time being?” Marc asked. “I suppose I should make an appearance at my own party.”

“Would be our pleasure,” Victoria said. “Could we interest you in a contest, my lady?”





After eliminating such options as rock tossing and jumping to see who could touch the highest point on the wall, we settled on archery. Victoria and Vincent easily hit the bull’s-eye on the target. Mine landed right between theirs.



“Perhaps if we back up a few paces,” I suggested. We did so, but still, all three of us easily hit the bull’s-eye.

“There’s no sport in this,” Victoria complained.

“I agree,” I muttered. “We need a moving target.”

The twins looked at me with interest.

“Not me,” I clarified.

“That would be a bit more of a challenge,” Vincent muttered. Then his eyes brightened. “I’ll be right back.” He dashed through an open door and returned moments later carrying a moose head, horns and all. “This creature is a moose, isn’t it?”

I examined the dusty old thing. “Perhaps a few centuries ago.”

“’Twill do,” Vincent muttered. The moose head flew out of his hands and began to dance around the yard. I laughed, noticing that several other trolls had come out to watch our game.

“You there, boy!” he shouted at a page. “Make this thing dance about while we shoot arrows at it. Be sure to make it erratic.”

It didn’t take long for the contest to be modified so that we all were standing on one leg with our right eyes closed shooting arrows at a flying moose head. I was laughing so hard tears ran down my cheeks and my ribs ached beneath the tight stays of my corset. Then out of nowhere, a steel spear as thick as my arm shot through the air and pinned our moose against the wall. The three of us spun around. Tristan was brushing his hands off, looking exceedingly pleased with himself. Ana?s stood next to him in a brilliant red gown. Smiling, she rested a hand possessively on Tristan’s arm.