Bishop to Knight One (Diviner’s Game #1)

Prologue

Deejay

“Hey Deej,”

my older sister greets me with a wary smile, assessing my mood as she stands next to a kid I assume she’s trying to pass off as my nephew.

Another guy, vaguely in his older teens, stands on the other side of the kid, holding his hand.

She points to them in turn as she makes introductions.

“This is Cary and Matt Blank. Boys, this is my brother Deejay Aquino, you’re going to be living with him from now on.”

Cary looks about four years old, bright, curious blue eyes and pale, curly, blond hair like most of our family.

He doesn’t have any visible bruising, which I can’t say is true for every nephew that I’ve taken into my care.

He’s wearing clean clothes, but the jeans have holes in the knees and his shirt looks a little threadbare.

The backpack on his shoulders is way too big for him, falling apart at the seams, and looks practically empty.

Matt stands taller than me, broader, more muscular.

His tree trunk biceps bulge a little holding onto duffle bags stuffed to bursting.

His clothes are just as worn out as Cary’s though dirtier and with what I can tell are bloodstains spattered here and there.

His shiny black hair falls in loose curls around his forehead under a worn out and faded red cap.

His black eyes are set a little too far apart above a straight but overly large nose; his jaw is a little too square and wide, with a slight underbite and a five o’clock shadow that puts my ability to grow any facial hair to shame.

The only indicator I have that he’s a teenager and not closer to my age is the slight roundness of his cheeks as if he hasn’t quite finished growing up yet.

Behind me something crashes and a scream rings through the villa-style mansion where I live.

“Come on in,”

I tell the boys. “Not you, Felixia. You can leave now. Don’t come back for them, I won’t give them to you,”

I remind her, though we’ve done this song and dance before, so recently in fact, I know these can’t be her kids.

Felixia nods respectfully and pushes the boys into my home before waving. “See you next time, Maledict,”

she tells me, using the title I earned ten years ago when one of our other sisters abandoned the first son I adopted.

I shut the door on her and rush to the cries from the kitchen. “Nobody comes in here barefoot!”

I yell loud enough for the whole house to hear—well, almost. It’s a fucking big house.

Jasper, my six-year-old, stands unmoving, but crying in the middle of a debris field of broken glass. I pick him up and sit him on the counter, checking for wounds. “You ok, Jazz?”

“Sorry, Papa! I just wanted a glass of water!”

he cries, hiccupping.

I ruffle his hair and kiss his nose. “Don’t grow up so fast. Just ask for help until you’re tall enough to reach.”

“I’ll get the broom, if you tell me where it is.”

The deep voice startles me.

I turn to Matt, who stares at the glass on the floor, looking lost and abandoned.

Empathy for him wells up in me; I wish I could take away the uncertainty that I know he’s going through right now.

I wish that he’d been born to better parents and had an easier life, but all I can do right now is give him a soft landing after a long, hard fall.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.

You’ve only just arrived, but you are welcome here, and I’ll give you a proper welcome after I get this cleaned up.”

Matt frowns, but nods, picking up his younger brother and hugging him close.

My heart aches for them, the same way it always does when one of my sisters abandons their child to me.

I hate that this is the curse of the sons of Naiads, but I am glad that I can take my sister’s son in—grateful that I have the clout to force my sisters to bring them to me instead of abandoning them outright like our mother did to me.

I am the youngest child of seven in my generation, and the only boy, which was fine until my sisters left my mother’s care.

At that point, my mother left one day and simply failed to return home again.

I was angry for a long time about being abandoned by my mother and sisters, but once I matured, I learned that mine was one of the better fates of the sons of Naiads.

The women of our species only care about their female offspring because only the females are true Naiads.

The boys have magic but cannot do the work of the Naiad for the waters that they tend.

Considering that there are some families out there that don’t abandon their sons and instead outright kill them, I decided I could mitigate the problem in my own family.

To that end, I worked hard and developed a social media platform from scratch.

By the time I turned eighteen, my net worth was in the billions.

I sold the company as soon as I found the first of my sister’s abandoned sons, bought this villa, and proceeded to track down all my sisters and their sons.

I took their boys and ordered my sisters to bring their sons to me with a rather vague, but effective, ‘or else’ threat.

For ten years now my house has been a revolving door of twelve—now fourteen—of my family’s unwanted males.

And it is a joy to have them all.

Seven of my adopted sons have already moved out of the house, moving on to the lives they want to build for themselves. I love them all, and am exceedingly proud of each of them, even the ones who are only a few years younger than me.

At dinner time, all my boys sit at the table in the kitchen for the first time with our new additions. “Everyone go around and introduce yourself,”

I instruct the quiet children; I know for certain that their quietude stems from how intimidating Matt is, but I also know everyone will get over it fairly quickly. He seems like a bit of a gentle giant based on the interactions with Cary I’ve observed over the last hour. “I’ll start with the twins. These two are six months old. I brought them home from the hospital. Their names are Alex and Eren Aquino.”

I speak to Matt and Cary, indicating the babies that sit in highchairs on either side of me. The twins are Felixia’s, which is why I know Matt and Cary are not her biological children. They’re probably the sons of whoever her latest boyfriend is, but I haven’t pried into their parentage yet. However, it doesn’t matter who they belonged to before, now they’re mine and I won’t give them up.

“My name is Matt Blank. I’m seventeen. We’re from Denver, Colorado.”

He speaks in a deep, rumbling voice, looking at each of us. I can’t help but smile that he takes the initiative to start the introductions. I don’t know him, but I think we’re going to get along; he’s just got the vibes of the type of person that I get along well with.

“I’m Cary Blank. I’m four.”

Cary speaks shyly but follows his brother’s example and looks at everyone as well. I can tell there’s a lot of love between these two, and trust. Cary trusts Matt absolutely, I can see it when he looks at his brother and when they speak to each other. Matt assures him and Cary is assured; no doubt, no hesitation—whatever Matt tells him is truth for Cary.

“My name is Jasper Aquino. I’m six, and I’ve been with Papa since I was four too!”

Jasper sits next to Cary and puts an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll take care of you, because you’re my new little brother!”

Sitting there with his arm around Cary, those two do look like they could be from the same tribe. Blond hair and blue eyes run in our family, but Cary, cute as he is, has some of the squareness in his face that is overly present in Matt’s, whereas Jasper’s is rounder and more cherubic.

Cary smiles shyly at Jasper, but I can tell he isn’t a naturally shy kid. He’s reflecting Matt’s reticence more than his own personality. “Ok.”

“I’m Colt Aquino. I’m thirteen,”

my angriest son says suddenly, glaring at Matt. “I’ve been with Papa the longest, since I was three, and I’m his favorite.”

I don’t know why, but Colt’s been simmering on the edge of rage for a few months now. The halo of his curly strawberry blond hair and his brightly innocent, round sapphire eyes belie the dark well of anger that lives inside him. He’s not specifically mean to anyone, but he’s quick to rage and will shut himself away from everyone when he does. I wish he would talk to me about what’s going on, but since he became a teenager, things have shifted between us and I no longer hold the spot in his life as his confidant.

I click my tongue at him. “I don’t play favorites,”

I gently chastise him. “But yes, you were my first son.”

I look back at Matt to explain. “I’ve been taking in my nephews for ten years now. Colt is the first nephew I adopted. If I’d known about you before now, I would have brought you here already.”

“It’s fine,”

Matt assures me solemnly.

It isn’t, but there is nothing I can do except give these two a stable home.

“I’m Kendall. I’m also thirteen, but I’ve only been here for three years,”

my most studious son explains, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Kendall isn’t quite like the rest of my sons. First, we’re barely related, having a single common ancestress four generations ago for him and five for me. Second, he’s a brunet with brown eyes, and favors his paternal line rather than his matriarchal line. And third, Kendall is socially awkward in general. He doesn’t pick up on social cues well in settings with unfamiliar people, though with his own family, it’s barely noticeable. Rather than prevaricate, Kendall tends to speak bluntly, which doesn’t always earn him friends, but it’s fine because Colt is his best friend and understands him even better than I do sometimes. These aspects of his personality are symptoms of the neglect he suffered when he was very young, and he may always struggle with his social-emotional development, though years of therapy have helped immensely.

“Great, now that everyone introduced themselves, let’s eat!” I clap.

“You didn’t introduce yourself,”

Kendall reminds me, matter-of-factly.

“Oh. Right. I’m Deejay Aquino. All these boys are my adopted sons. I’m twenty-nine years old, the ruler of the Demesne D’Aquino, and from now on, I will take care of you. If you need anything, tell me.”

“We all come from different women in his family, like you two, but he adopted us all, which is why we all have the same last name,”

Kendall adds to Matt in his direct manner. “He will start the legal adoption process with you as well if that’s what you choose, and you’ll share our last name as well, but as far as everyone is concerned you are now an Aquino.”

“I don’t need to be adopted,”

Matt frowns. “I’m almost an adult already. I’ll be eighteen in a month.”

“Our oldest brother is two years younger than Papa and he legally adopted him. This is a family of abandoned sons, we want you to feel like you are a part of it,”

Kendall responds levelly.

“Speak for yourself,”

Colt snorts moodily.

Kendall smacks Colt upside the head. “Don’t make them feel unwelcome because you have a crush on Papa.”

“I do not!”

Colt protests, rubbing the back of his head.

I chuckle at their antics. “Colt announced when he was six that he was going to make me his wife and no one’s sure if he’s changed his mind yet,” I tease.

Colt turns bright red under his coppery blond hair and huffs. “I was a kid, of course I said something utterly ridiculous,”

he grumbles.

I catch just the slightest hint of a smile from Matt before he puts a bite of food into his mouth, but it makes me happy to see that he can find something to smile about.