Forbidden Queen: A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 1)

by R. J. Vickers

  Copyright © 2020 R.J. Vickers

  All rights reserved.

  Cover by Deranged Doctor Design

  Map designed by Cornelia Yoder http://www.corneliayoder.com

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  ISBN-13: 9798610770703

  www.rjvickers.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1 - The Outcast of Ambervale

  Chapter 2 - The Stone Circle

  Chapter 3 - The Cloudmage of Lameer

  Chapter 4 - A Stormy Arrival

  Chapter 5 - Queen Ammeline

  Chapter 6 - A Bitter Homecoming

  Chapter 7 - Rivals at Court

  Chapter 8 - The King’s Heir

  Chapter 9 - Alliances

  Chapter 10 - The Flamespinner

  Chapter 11 - Polite Company

  Chapter 12 - The King’s Departure

  Chapter 13 - The Warehouse District

  Chapter 14 - The Visitor

  Chapter 15 - Chaos in the Streets

  Chapter 16 - Changing Sides

  Chapter 17 - The Harvest Ball

  Chapter 18 - Enemies of the Throne

  Chapter 19 - Dangerous Games

  Chapter 20 - The King’s Daughter

  Chapter 21 - A Momentary Lapse

  Chapter 22 - Midwinter

  Chapter 23 - Bribery

  Chapter 24 - The Palace Vote

  Chapter 25 - The Coronation

  Glossary of Terms

  Itrea – A country founded by the magic races and other minorities who fled the Kinship Thrones centuries ago. Baylore is its capital, and Larkhaven its only port city.

  The Itrean system of rule – Itrea has created a system of elected monarchy where five heirs share a thirty-year ruling cycle. Each heir is nominated by the current ruler from each of the five ruling families, and is usually a relative. When the ruling cycle switches, the heir of the king or queen currently in power takes the throne, and after three years, Baylore holds a vote as to whether that monarch should keep the throne or hand it to the next king or queen in line. If all five monarchs in the ruling cycle are voted off the throne after their three years are over, rule returns to the first monarch in line for that cycle.

  Holden King/Holden Queen – The term for a king or queen in a current ruling cycle who does not sit the throne.

  The five ruling families of Itrea – The original aim of this ruling system was to share power more evenly among the people, since the founders of Itrea had no royal blood. However, five royal families have now held power for centuries. These are the Reycoran family, the Aldsvell family, the Dellgrain family, the Vellmont family, and the Bastray family. Tradition dictates that all rulers and their relatives take the ruling family’s surname, so these names have endured since the foundation of the royal lines.

  Icelings – A race native to Itrea who live in the Icebraid Peaks. Little is known about them, so they often feature in fantastical stories.

  Drifters – A race native to Itrea who live in the Wandering Woods. They can choose to undergo a ritual to gain the use of healing powers.

  The magic races – These are people born with one of a handful of magic powers. They are not closely linked by genetics (aside from Weavers), so anyone with even distant magic ancestry can end up with a magic power, and it can skip many generations. Also called Makhori (in the Kinship Thrones). The magic races include Weavers (who are born with silver hair that can be woven or otherwise incorporated into handmade objects to enchant them), Cloudmages (who can predict or even exert a slight power over weather), Minstrels (storytellers who pull named listeners into stories that feel like reality), Riders (who bond with animals), Potioneers (who create enchanted substances by channeling their magic into ordinary ingredients), Metalsmiths (who can sense veins of metal underground and use their power to forge delicate metal objects), and more.

  The forbidden races – The forbidden races are not allowed within the walls of Baylore. The rationale is that these races are dangerous, especially in a heavily populated place like Baylore, but some magic races have been lumped into this category due to general mistrust or prejudice. Forbidden races include Extractors (who drain energy from those nearby), Braiders (who can fix the time and cause of a person’s death), Curse-Weavers (who can curse people deliberately or accidentally unless the source of their power is cut from them), Dark Potioneers (who use less accepted substances such as blood and flesh in their potions), and Snake-Bloods (who can transform into snakes).

  The Kinship Thrones – The name for the nine kingdoms joined under Whitish rule. Long ago, the expanding Whitish Empire was divided between the high king’s nine sons, though some kingdoms had been settled long before Whitish influence. The Kinship Thrones are east of Itrea. They include Whitland, Chelt, Dardensfell, Kohlmarsh, Cashabree, Ruunas, Northreach, Lostport, and Varrival.

  Whitland – The country that rules all nine Kinship Thrones (at least in theory). Whitland does not accept Itrea’s autonomy and tries to curtail trade between Itrea and the Kinship Thrones. Most inhabitants of the Kinship Thrones are originally of the Whitish race, but are now known by their country of nationality (Cheltish, Varrilan, Ruunan, etc.). Whitish is also the official language of Itrea and most of the Kinship Thrones.

  Makhori – A term used in the Kinship Thrones for those with magic blood (known as the magic races in Itrea)

  Varos – A god worshipped in the Kinship Thrones, especially in Whitland. In Itrea, often shortened to “Varse” as a curse.

  The Nine – The nine Whitish gods of light who pre-dated Varos. The days in a quarter and spans in a year have been divided up numerically to honor the nine gods (plus Varos, in the 10-day quarter).

  The Seventeen Gods of Sin – According to Whitish religious teachings, the Gods of Sin birthed the magic races. Hence all Makhori are demons who represent the lingering presence of evil in the world.

  Cloudy Gods – A joking term Itreans use to refer to things outside their control, sometimes as a mild oath. Itreans are not religious and have only adopted the parts of Whitish religion relating to general terminology (days/quarters/spans). However, some country folk genuinely believe in the cloudy gods, which causes no end of amusement to city folk.

  Dravs – Stamped tin coins worth a small amount

  Varlins – A varlin is worth twenty dravs. Varlins are stamped coins typically made of silver, with a small gemstone in the center.

  Span – A period of 40 days. There are eight full spans plus one incomplete span in a year.

  Quarter – A period of 10 days. There are four quarters in a span. The days in a quarter are Aurumsday, Talonsday, Tensday, Tollsday, Samsday, Ilkayumsday, Tabansday, Daridsday, Varseday, and Sullimsday. These are named after Varos and the nine Whitish gods of light.

  League – Equal to approximately 5 kilometers (3 miles)

  1

  The Outcast of Ambervale

  I often wondered if Mother lied to me when she said I was heir to the throne of Baylore. Our hovel in Ambervale was a far cry from the palace that was supposedly my birthright.

  But after that day, I never doubted her again.

  As usual, I took the long route to market. I liked to avoid the villagers as much as possible.

  Even after nearly e
ighteen years, the people of Ambervale had not accepted my mother; though her identity had been kept secret, the villagers sensed—or perhaps saw in her manner—that she did not belong. And I was less welcome still.

  The deer trail took me along the edge of the shadowed pine forest, through soft grass bobbing with wildflowers. The scent of summer hung in the air, thick with pollen, and the trill of birdsong rose from the forest. Far above, the looming mountains still held onto their winter ice, though snowmelt cascaded down the granite cliffs faster each day, swelling the stream that ran through the center of Ambervale.

  At the northern end of town, I reached my usual stream-crossing. Water lapped over the stone in the middle, the one I usually jumped to, and the grass on either bank was soggy. Tossing my basket to the opposite side, I gathered my skirts and stepped into the flooded grass. With a clumsy leap, I splashed one foot onto the stone in the middle of the stream, using the momentum to carry me safely to the opposite bank.

  A few steps later, I wrinkled my nose—water had somehow found its way through a hole in my left boot, and my sock squelched as I walked.

  Following the stream south again toward the heart of Ambervale, which was merely a dirt road lined with houses and a handful of shops, I soon caught sight of two boys fishing. At least, the older one appeared to be fishing; the younger, five years old and too naïve to fear me, appeared to have captured something between his cupped hands.

  The boys had yet to see me. As I approached, the older one, Molenk, gave a shout. His flimsy twig of a fishing rod bent downward, and moments later it was torn from his hands.

  “Little demon!” he shouted. Jumping to his feet, he tore down the bank in pursuit of his rod, which bobbed to the surface of the churning stream.

  Now that Molenk was out of sight, I no longer needed to hide.

  “Good morning,” I called to his younger brother, Jisho.

  The boy’s face broke into a grin. “Hi, Kalleah! Come see what I found!” His eyes were round with excitement beneath his mop of black curls.

  I picked my way through tall grasses and around wild raspberry brambles until I reached Jisho’s side. Holding out his cupped hands, he revealed a fat toad.

  I smiled at his enthusiasm. “Nice catch. I hope you weren’t planning to eat the poor thing for lunch?”

  “No, he’s my friend.” Jisho stroked the toad’s back with one finger.

  The toad seemed to realize it was free. Making a clumsy jump from Jisho’s cupped hand, it landed on a rock just off the riverbank.

  “Oi! Come back here!”

  Jisho leapt after the toad, but his feet lost their purchase on the slick rock.

  Before I could shout at him to take care, the boy careened sideways off the rock and splashed into the frothy stream.

  In late summer, the stream barely covered my knees, but Jisho slipped underwater and out of sight in the icy torrent.

  “Jisho!” I yelled. Panic held me motionless as I scanned the water.

  A second later, his mop of black hair bobbed back to the surface. I charged downstream and plunged into the water after him. The water was shockingly cold, so cold it knit my lungs closed for an instant, but I thrust my foot deeper still.

  My numb hands collided with something soft. I grasped ahold and tugged until Jisho’s shoulder rose above the current, but the rest of him would not follow. It seemed his foot was trapped beneath a log that lay half-submerged in the stream.

  My legs burned and prickled as though assaulted by thousands of tiny needles, and when I tried to fight my way upstream toward the log, I could hardly force them to do my bidding.

  Jisho’s body limp in my arms, I shoved against the current until I reached the log. Then I leaned against it with both legs until Jisho’s ankle slid free.

  The boy was lighter than I expected. He was easy to lift onto the bank, though I struggled to keep my balance on the mud, my numb legs clumsy. As I crawled up beside him, Jisho’s eyes opened, and he squinted against the early-summer sun. He was shivering violently, but at least his breathing came easily.

  “Wh-wh-what happened?”

  “You—”

  “Look at the fish I nabbed!” Molenk’s shout cut me off.

  When the older boy reappeared over a small rise, a huge trout dangling from the end of his splintered rod, I stumbled to my feet and backed away from his brother.

  “You.” Molenk’s voice was cold, accusatory. “What have you done to Jisho?” Though he was only fourteen, he already had the bearing of his father, a burly stonemason.

  “He fell into the river. I just fished him out.”

  Molenk jogged over to his brother. “Is that true?”

  Jisho’s eyes flicked from me to Molenk; his expression was hunted. “I d-d-don’t remember. I think I s-slipped off the rock, and Kalleah saved me.”

  “You stay away from my brother!” Molenk yelled. Dropping his fish, he shoved me in the ribs.

  My legs would not work properly. I toppled over, tangled in my sodden skirts, and scrambled backward as he stomped after me.

  “No! Don’t hurt her!” Jisho hid his face in his hands.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Molenk spat. “That witch just tried to kill you. Get away from us, witch.”

  I grabbed my basket and used it to push myself to my feet. “Would you rather I let him drown?” I asked angrily.

  Jisho stared at me in confusion, his mouth open.

  “Don’t listen to her. She’s just trying to mess with your mind. They’re all like that.”

  Pushing down my anger, not wanting to give Molenk further reason to hate me, I turned and marched empty-handed back the way I had come. I could not continue to the village with my skirts soaked.

  Once the boys’ voices faded behind me, my shoulders began to shake with cold. Every breath of air felt like another dousing of icy water, and the sun’s warmth did nothing to thaw my legs. I broke into a clumsy jog, holding my dripping skirts immodestly high, and did not stop until I reached the hilltop where our cottage perched.

  Mother was out in the front plucking dead flower-heads from a rosebush. “What brings you home so early?” She eyed my empty basket and my sodden dress.

  “I slipped when I tried to leap across the river. I ought to change before I return to market.”

  “Oh, don’t trouble yourself. I should have sent Lyla in the first place.” Mother plucked another bud and tossed it behind the rosebush. “Kalleah? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Of course not.” I did not want her to know I had let a commoner—and a child at that—unnerve me.

  Someday I would be queen of all Itrea. Fear was a luxury I could not afford.

  * * *

  At dinner that night, a knock sounded at the door. Lyla, my mother’s lady-in-waiting, rose to answer it, but she froze with the door open just a fraction.

  “What is it?” Mother asked sharply.

  Lyla shook her head.

  Cautiously, Mother and I rose and crept to the door. When we peered through the gap, we were confronted by a mob brandishing shovels and torches that billowed acrid smoke. Was Ambervale under attack? But who would travel so far into the mountains—had they discovered where we were hiding?

  Then, as the flickering light shone across their faces, I recognized my neighbors. The butcher. The herbalist. The blacksmith.

  My heartbeat quickened with fear—and anger. How dare they?

  “It’s her!” the baker shouted.

  I ducked back into the house, but Mother stood her ground. “What is your business here?”

  “We know what you are,” a man’s voice shouted.

  An answering roar rose from the mob.

  “Your daughter is corrupting Ambervale with her evil magic! We want her gone, or we’ll set fire to your house.”

  My heart thudded against my ribs. These were our neighbors, people I had known since childhood, yet now they were ready to destroy us.

  Mother drew he
rself up to her full height, a true queen once again. “If you value your lives, you will leave us in peace!” she said fiercely. “We will leave tomorrow. Just let us go safely, and we will never trouble you again.”

  * * *

  To see maps of Baylore and Itrea plus other exclusive content, click here.

  2

  The Stone Circle

  M other slammed the door, and we watched through a crack in the shutters until the villagers shuffled away, their torches leaving glowing trails in the dark.

  “Tomorrow? Really?” I asked, unable to tear my gaze from the torches.

  “We have no choice. I feared it might come to this.” Mother clicked her tongue at me. “You should have told me what happened to you earlier today.”

  “It was nothing! Just a couple boys getting scared for no reason.”

  All three of us resumed our seats at the table, though none of us touched our food.

  “I should have told you this before,” Mother said. “I heard talk in the village a half-span past, talk that Baylore was tightening its rules against the forbidden races. Now that word has spread this far north, I suspected they would turn on us sooner or later.” She sighed. “I’m afraid this will hurt your bid for the throne. I had hoped to return to Baylore just before your crowning, so you would not be vulnerable when your enemies came after you. Now…”

  I said nothing. Though I had always known I would face hatred and prejudice as queen, the first with forbidden magic blood ever to claim the throne, that future had seemed distant. Until now.

  Here we were at last, on the eve of our departure, and I felt nothing but dread.

  After Mother and Lyla retired, I lingered at the table, one hand wrapped around a mug of chamomile tea, trying to sort through my thoughts. The news of our departure had hit me like a boulder. I had expected to spend several more spans in Ambervale, while the summer sun warmed the mountains before slipping into autumn, and I had looked forward to savoring it all. The last fireweed blossoming in the meadow. The last hike up to my favorite ridge, with views over a glistening alpine lake. The last blueberry harvest.