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

by R. J. Vickers

  When the cheers and music had died down, the magistrate stepped before me and faced the city.

  “I present to you Queen Kalleah. May her reign be filled with peace, prosperity, and good fortune.”

  As he turned and bowed to me, the onlookers began cheering louder than ever. I thought I heard a few shouts of anger, but they were drowned out by the applause.

  Together with the four holden rulers, I stepped onto the top stair and raised a hand to my people. The crowd was like an ill-tempered beast, turning from hatred to love on a whim. Yet that same crowd was made of good-hearted people who had families and ambitions just as I did, and I hoped at least a few of them would eventually come to trust me despite everything.

  Mother had explained that the new ruler usually descended to the foot of the palace steps and grasped the hands of those nearest, wishing them good fortune in the coming years, but they had decided to do away with that tradition this year. If people flinched away from me, it would set a bad precedent.

  Instead we stood there, smiling over our people, until a bevy of kitchen staff emerged from the side entrance with two enormous vats of wine.

  My smile grew sour—so this was why the crowd welcomed me happily on my coronation day. They would not have received free wine if there had been riots in the streets.

  As the wine was distributed among the crowd, a man in Truthbringer’s robes climbed onto the rim of the fountain. When he spoke, his voice boomed out above the crowd.

  “Heed our warning! The demon queen has brought war upon Itrea. Her cursed power will tear this land apart, and you have only yourselves to blame. Follow us, or face the end of your beloved country.”

  A pair of guards wrestled the Truthbringer off the fountain, but not before several townspeople took up the angry cry.

  “She’s going to destroy Itrea!”

  “Down with the demon queen!”

  “Free Baylore!”

  “Burn her! Burn her!”

  The Truthbringer’s words sent a chill down my spine. Was he the one who had written the threatening notes?

  “Arrest him,” I shouted over the crowd, but it was too late. The townspeople converged on my guards and the Truthbringer slipped away.

  The palace guards hurried me back into the palace, along with the rest of the royalty.

  I may have won the throne, but my battle was far from over.

  * * *

  The rest of the palace residents pretended nothing had gone amiss, so we continued with the coronation festivities as planned. I played along, though worry gnawed at me.

  What with the feasting and ceremonies that carried on well past dark, I was unable to seek Saniya out until nearly midnight. The nobility had retired to the ballroom, which was now set up with comfortable armchairs and coffee tables, and what seemed like every member of court had sought me out to congratulate me and wish me luck with my reign.

  Everyone except Saniya, that is—she seemed to be avoiding me.

  When I saw Leoth rise from his table and thread his way through the milling attendants toward me, I took the opportunity to venture over to Saniya’s table, which she and Carrick had commandeered for themselves.

  “Your Highness,” Saniya murmured, dropping her eyes to her knees as I sank into the unoccupied chair.

  “You as well?” I said irritably. Exhausted, I could no longer keep up my pretense of happiness. “Why did you vote against me?”

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” she whispered, head still bent. “Leoth threatened to accuse my father of treason if I voted for you. As a foreigner, he would be an easy target.”

  “I thought I was going to die,” I said coldly. “Olleack threatened to hand me over to the Truthbringers if I lost the vote. You have no idea how it felt to see you sitting there, not supporting me, when my life was on the line.”

  Saniya breathed in sharply. “No. He didn’t.”

  I nodded.

  “Oh, Kalleah, I’m so sorry. I would never have listened to Leoth’s blackmail if I had known.”

  “I understand,” I said dully. “Leoth has manipulated us all. I’m sure I will be able to forgive you someday.”

  Behind her, I saw Leoth speaking to the occupants of the table I had vacated, and when he turned to look my way, I dropped my gaze. I wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

  * * *

  That night, my first in the royal suite, I felt lost in the vast new bed. The room was warmer than my tower, so I was almost sweating beneath the mountain of blankets.

  At last I rose, drew on a warm robe, and paced silently down the hall and up to the rooftop balcony. The air held a bite of frost, and I thought I could smell snow in the gathering clouds.

  Untying my robe and letting it pool by my feet, I leaned over the stone railing, the icy breeze raking across my face.

  At last I was queen. Eighteen years of my mother’s ambition and my own dedication had led to this.

  I was the most powerful woman in Itrea, yet I felt as though I had lost everything.

  I hoped I could make a difference. I hoped my reign would be worth the turmoil it had brought upon Baylore.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped away from the balustrade. It was time to write history.

  * * *

  Read on for an exclusive bonus short story—my gift to you for buying Forbidden Queen during launch week

  Don’t miss Innocent Queen, the continuation of Kalleah’s story.

  She is Baylore’s most hated queen. And her fight has just begun.

  When Queen Kalleah takes the throne, she must win the trust of her people if she is to save Baylore from civil war. But the anti-magic group calling themselves Truthbringers are gathering more followers than ever.

  Kalleah tries courting her people’s favor with feasts and dances and universally popular laws, but none of it helps.

  Then a dead body is found in the city, and it looks very much like the murderer is someone with Kalleah’s forbidden power.

  Someone is trying to frame her.

  The political climate in Baylore gets messier and messier as Kalleah tries to prove her innocence—and in the meantime, more signs point toward her guilt.

  When riots break out and the palace itself is threatened, Kalleah must resort to desperate measures to ensure the safety of her country.

  Can Kalleah overthrow the Truthbringers before they seize Baylore? Or is it too late?

  Order Innocent Queen now

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed Forbidden Queen!

  If you did, I would be eternally grateful if you took a moment to leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads. Reviews are one of the most important ways my future readers decide whether to give my books a try; a few minutes of your time can genuinely change my career.

  If you want to explore behind-the-scenes content from the world of Itrea and the Kinship Thrones, click here for exclusive access to maps, illustrations, worldbuilding notes, and more.

  And since you have bought Forbidden Queen during launch week, I have included an exclusive bonus short story not available anywhere else. Keep reading for Cal’s nighttime adventure outside the palace.

  It’s been great having you along for the ride.

  All the best,

  Rebecca

  Acknowledgments

  This series began during NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) in November 2018, and writing continued throughout the next year while we traveled the world, from Madagascar to Mongolia, Namibia to Nepal.

  My thanks first go to those who hosted us during our travels, allowing us to feel as though we had a home again, however temporary. We stayed with my sister, Melinda, in Zambia; with Kayla Tawa in Shanghai; with Nicholas Morris in South Korea; with Kimie Bando in Tokyo; and with Kate Thomson in England.

  Bringing a novel to life takes a huge team. My thanks to the beta readers and proofreaders who improved this book immensely with their feedback: Deb Barringer, Nancy Billica, Brian Vickers, Melinda Vickers, and
of course my husband, Daniel.

  My cover was brought to life by the very talented team at Deranged Doctor Design, and I am once again making use of the two gorgeous maps of Itrea and the Kinship Thrones created by Cornelia Yoder.

  A Midnight Escape

  C al’s mother was going to kill him.

  “Do you have any idea how it makes us look when you keep sneaking around with servants?” she shouted. “Next thing you know, people will be accusing you of spying on us. Or maybe they’ll call you a bastard and put your claim to the throne in question just as they did with Kalleah.”

  “It’s a long time before I take the throne,” Cal mumbled. “People won’t remember that sort of thing.” Still, his face felt hot. He hadn’t been doing anything bad—just giving his friends a Flamespinner’s show—but he had never been caught before.

  “They will if you get tangled up with Kalleah. Her influence could stain your reputation forever.”

  Cal shrugged his mother’s grip free of his arm. “I won’t do it again. Promise.” They were in the king’s study, and Cal was sure everyone in the Ruunan wing could hear his mother shouting. It would do nothing for his reputation.

  “Oh, I don’t believe that. How many times have you promised to stop sneaking off?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Fortunately,” his mother said, “I have found a solution. The head cook gave me names of all the dirty little servants’ children you like running around with, and I’ve seen that their parents have been dismissed from service.”

  “No.” Cal took a step back, the news like a blow to the chest. “You can’t do that. You—”

  “Calden, my dear boy, when will you grow up?” His mother’s tone was sharp. “You are practically a man. Cast aside these childish pursuits and take your place among your peers.”

  He had to talk to Bash. “Yeah, fine. Whatever you want.” This time when he tugged his arm, his mother relinquished her grip. “Can I go?”

  “Yes. And watch your step, Calden. I will be keeping an eye on you. Evidently you are not mature enough to moderate your own conduct.”

  Cal hurried to his room as fast as he could without running. He didn’t know what to do. Bash was sick, and he could hardly afford treatment as it was. His parents had been saving up for a visit to a proper healer. Now he would likely die.

  Cal kicked his desk. “Bloody Varse!” What could he do? He kicked it again, harder this time, and a pen rolled onto the floor.

  There was no help for it. He had to risk sneaking out of the palace one last time. If anyone caught him, he might never see the light of day again.

  * * *

  When the bell rang to summon the family to dinner, Cal waited a few minutes for the floor to clear. Then he crept down the hall to his mother’s room. To his relief, the door was unlocked.

  Slipping inside, Cal closed the door behind him. It let out a loud creak just before it shut, and he cringed. With any luck, no one was around to hear.

  He hadn’t been inside his mother’s bedchamber for years. It looked as he remembered it, tidy and sparse since his father’s death. Scanning the room, his eyes alit on the familiar drawer. Was it—? Yes.

  When Cal slid open the door, he found his mother’s chest of coins—varlins and dravs heaped almost to overflowing. She kept most of her wealth in the royal treasury, but this pocket money would be a fortune to any commoner. Plagues—it was a fortune to Cal, who only received a coin from his mother once or twice a year. She preferred to pay for things herself so she could control what he spent his money on.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Cal scooped up a handful of coins and dropped it into his pocket. He had no idea how much a healer would cost, but for good measure, he added a second handful. Then he smoothed the coins over—with any luck, his mother wouldn’t realize she was missing any.

  Heart beating fast, Cal crept from his mother’s room and back to his own. Then he dumped the whole fortune into a small coin purse and shoved it under his mattress.

  His mother gave him a stern look when he arrived late to dinner, but Cal pretended he was still sulking and kept his head bowed. In reality, his palms were sweaty, his heart still racing.

  * * *

  Night fell without anyone discovering Cal’s theft. He changed and climbed into bed, just in case his mother checked to make sure he had not run off. Then he lay motionless, staring at the beam of moonlight that slipped past his curtains, until the Ruunan wing quieted around him. His door opened once, and he shut his eyes quickly, resisting the urge to peek. It would be his mother checking he had not run off. After a minute, the sliver of light from the doorway behind him vanished, and he let his eyes slide open once again.

  When at last the only sound came from the wind howling outside, Cal slipped from bed and donned the brown homespun clothes he used whenever he snuck out to the city. He tied the money pouch beneath his coat and snugged his belt around it, careful not to let the coins jingle. His mother aside, he would be a target for thieves in the city if they suspected he had anything worth stealing. He had never been outside the palace at night.

  Holding his breath, Cal cracked open the door to his bedchamber.

  No one was around.

  He tiptoed down the hall and past his mother’s room, relieved she had not posted guards outside his doorway.

  Downstairs, the servants were asleep, so he easily rounded the kitchen and slipped through the door to the tunnels beneath the palace. Once he tugged the door shut, he sagged against the wall in relief. His heart was pounding so fast he felt lightheaded.

  Once he had recovered, he broke into a run down the maze of passages. His feet rang out against the stone, and the coin purse clanked at his side.

  Bounding up the stairs to the servants’ entrance, he skidded to a halt just inside the door and caught his breath. He jammed a cap onto his head to hide his dark red-brown hair and patted the coin purse one last time to make sure it was still tightly belted beneath his coat.

  Then he pushed open the door.

  A gust of chill wind swept around Cal. He stepped onto the flagstones outside the palace, looking around, and then froze.

  The usual gate guard was gone. Of course—he should have expected that. The man would be asleep. But the regular gate guard was a grumpy old man who knew Cal as a kitchen boy. This man was young and sharp-eyed, his face cast in shadow beneath a hood.

  “What is your business?” the guard demanded.

  “Me ma’s real sick,” Cal said, thickening the country drawl he usually used with the elderly gate guard. “I jest got the word now. Gotta go look after her.”

  The guard stared at him for several long minutes, unmoving. He might have turned to stone. Had Cal’s mother warned this guard to look out for him? Surely not.

  At last the guard gave him a curt nod. “Do what you must. But you’re not to return until the changing of the guard at first light. I don’t recognize you, and I won’t be letting a stranger into the palace.”

  Cal gulped. First light—his mother would be up by then. And she would definitely check his room. If she found him missing, she would likely disinherit him on the spot.

  “Right. Tha’s fine.” He would figure something out later.

  The guard unlocked the servants’ gate and pulled it open with a grinding of metal. Though Cal didn’t look back, he could feel the man’s sharp gaze following him down the street.

  The main square was quiet and empty save for a few beggars huddled in corners out of the wind, yet Market Street still bustled with traffic. Many passersby laughed drunkenly or shouted slurred threats at one another, and the sound of music spilled from many brightly-lit taverns and inns. Cal kept his head down and his hands by his sides. He had a knife in his belt, but he didn’t know how to fight with it. That was yet another thing his mother had denied him. Prince Leoth had charmed courtiers and won allies with his dueling prowess, while Cal was offered lessons in dance and penmanship. His mother thought he would cause trouble if he le
arned to use a sword, which was probably true, but it wasn’t as though Leoth had a spotless reputation. It wasn’t fair.

  Cal had taken this route to Bash’s house once before, but in the darkness, the streets looked unfamiliar. He almost walked right past the turnoff and had to veer around a potbellied man carrying a huge wheel of cheese to reach the quiet of the alleyway. Bash’s parents lived in the palace, but he had five grown siblings who lived with his uncle and helped manage the family bakery. Bash always spoke of this as his home, not the palace.

  This street was much darker than Market Street, no lanterns shining from nearby windows. Cal crept along, his neck itching with the feeling he was being watched.

  When he reached Bash’s door, he knocked quickly. No lights were on, but he was fairly sure at least three of Bash’s siblings slept downstairs to take advantage of the lingering heat of the bread oven.

  Sure enough, footsteps approached within moments. Cal knocked again, and this time the door opened a crack.

  “Who’s there?” Bash’s brother said groggily.

  “It’s Cal. I—”

  The young man pulled open the door and dragged Cal inside. “No use letting in the cold air. What the Varse are you doing out in the middle of the night?”

  “Is Bash here?”

  “Yeah.” The young man beckoned Cal over toward the bread oven, where someone had just lit a Weaver’s lamp. Bash sat tangled in his blankets, hands fisted, staring blankly at Cal.

  “Bash. Are you all right?” Picking his way around a bench and over another bedroll, Cal knelt by his side.