Amarande tried to pull herself away from the colliding walls of stone, but her limbs didn’t listen, all her adrenaline tapped, blood pooling under her body from her leg, arm, somewhere else.
Still, she scrabbled for her fallen dagger and aimed for her mother. First looking to the hidden passageway, but then tracking movement not there but across the library—atop the gold-upholstered banquette. The five-sigil tapestry peeled aside, dumbwaiter shaft visible.
Then came movement but no clean edges.
And, just as all her senses died out, Amarande wasn’t sure if she’d won or lost. Only that the stars would choose.
EPILOGUE
A WISE pirate once said true love was the most powerful force on earth. Yet that power had been traded for fear at every turn—simpler to wield, to dole out in equal measure. To quantify in grand gestures of gross, undeniable terror.
But in the foothills of Ardenia, fear had no place. The stars had sorted things out.
And at sunset the day after the royal bloodshed in the Itspi, Amarande awoke to streaming mountain light, and the smile of a boy she’d loved since she could form the word.
“Luca?”
“Ama.” His fingers splayed across her cheeks and into her hair. An embrace. He pressed a kiss her to forehead, her nose, her lips. “Thank the stars you’re awake.”
Strong enough to kiss him back, she did so, moving her hands to his hair, keeping Luca where she wanted him until she realized they weren’t alone.
Knowing what Amarande was thinking, Luca pulled away, his weight shifting on the bed—her bed, her chambers, her western sun. She tried to sit up, of course.
“Whoa there, the medikua might have something to say about that.”
Ferdinand. Amarande blinked up at her brother, as he didn’t try to stop her and ended up helping her, moving pillows about for support before bumping into the nightstand while hovering near the headboard.
Beyond where Luca sat, the warmth of his frame crowding her body, were the others.
Koldo, coming to her other side, no uniform on today—simply dressed, her hand pressed to Amarande’s leg. Here, she wasn’t the general. She was the only mother Amarande had known, really.
At the foot of the bed, the others. Ula. Urtzi. Osana. Amarande’s misfits—pirates and orphans and spies turned to their side. They were cleaner than she’d ever seen them, rested, too, moved to standing from furniture pulled to her bedside from all corners of her chambers.
Amarande gathered herself for the answer she needed most. “Did we win?”
“We’re still alive.” Ula grinned and nodded. “That might be the definition at this point.”
The raw throb in Amarande’s thigh confirmed that. No pain without life. No life without pain. Such as it was. She read their faces, pausing on Ferdinand. “My mother?”
He swallowed and shook his head.
Gone, then. Again.
Amarande wet her cracking lips. “Taillefer—the ships? The soldiers?”
At this, Luca squeezed her hand, careful of the knife wound, still healing. “His army did not attack.” Something flickered across his handsome face. “Taillefer did not make it, but I do have news from him—for later.”
The princess nodded. With Taillefer there was always more. Until there wasn’t. She didn’t know how to feel about that. “And the Sand and Sky?”
Koldo leaned in and grabbed her other hand. “It is what we make of it, now, my queen.”
The title dropped from Koldo’s lips in such a way that stole the breath from Amarande’s lungs. “Ardenia, Torrence”—Koldo nudged Luca with her elbow across Amarande’s body—“all of the Sand and Sky. But that is for later, too.”
And with that, the general stood, the salmon light of dusk catching the wisps in her dark braid. “Let us leave her to rest and have a go at a meal. The medikua will want to see her before nightfall.”
The rest did as they were told, Koldo’s direction as good as an order. “Medikua Aritza?” Amarande asked. “She’s returned?”
“A gift from Taillefer, if you can believe it,” Ula explained, adding, “though I stitched you up first.”
“Stop bragging,” Urtzi chided, snagging her hand. “It’s time for food.”
Osana laughed. “Your priorities are always intact, Urtzi.” She hung on the doorframe that led from the bedchamber to the parlor, Ferdinand hulking over her shoulder. It seemed he’d grown another inch since she’d first met him. “Rest well, Amarande.”
A thread of panic caught Amarande as they filed out. Luca still sat on the bed, and she scrabbled to trap his hand between both of hers. “Wait, you’re not leaving me, Luca? Are you? Take dinner with me. Rest with me. Stay with me. Please.” Then she added with a hint of a smile, “My king.”
Luca grinned, those eyes of his the color of sunrise on snow, as warm as the summer sunset behind. “Of course I’ll stay. I’ll stay until the end of time. As long as you need me, I’m here. Always, my queen.”
AS the Sand and Sky found new footing, midnight came quietly to the Bellringe.
The moon was high and no longer weak, the clouds gone, the night ripe with silver energy. A platinum light slithered across the summer-dry landscape of King’s Crest and the Pyrenee mountains beyond, bathing everything it touched in glitter beneath a million stars.
Those stars had power too, as all in the Sand and Sky knew—the night sky marked by departed souls, looking down, watching over those below. As designed, the Bellringe’s chapel’s windows were especially good at capturing the glow from above, being so much closer to the sky than any other kingdom—even Ardenia.
Tonight, the windows shimmered a little more than usual.
For on the table beneath those great starborn windows lay the body of Crown Prince Renard.
Stinking of herbs and tinctures, shirtless, the gaping wound under his ribs sewn closed, skin puckering under the pull of sutures, Renard appeared just the same as when the medikua had left him days before, taking her bags and talents with her for the royal ship in the Port of Pyrenee.
Yet, in that gleaming moonlight, things were not the same at all.
No, that silver light beamed across his unshaven face … and the air charged, suddenly full with all the power of the stars and their peculiar magic.
And there, alone in the silence, the mostly-dead would-be king opened his eyes.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book, like so many others, was lovingly shaped during the illness, upheaval, and general chaos that defined the United States in the year 2020. I think that truth must be acknowledged first and foremost, because books aren’t created in a vacuum. Just like people and places can be shaped by time and events, so can art.
Producing a book during the COVID-19 pandemic was creatively jarring, to say the least. A time of quarantine, doom-scrolling, bleeding personal and professional boundaries, and uncertainty on literally every level of life, did a major number on my work process—and I admit that as someone who is usually highly regimented in my time management and always relentlessly moving forward. Thus, this book would literally not exist without the vast help of my support network, both in publishing and at home.
Usually, when writing my acknowledgments, I thank my family last because they’re my anchor, and I like the poetics of it (as a writer, I’m allowed to think like that!). But this time, they’re front and center. They are always so supportive of me in all of my endeavors, but the truth is that without their help this time, whether it be by providing child care, space to work, mental breaks, or simply an ear as I talked through this very complicated tale and all my hopes for it, this book wouldn’t exist. And so, I’d first love to acknowledge my parents, Craig and Mary Warren, and my husband, Justin Henning, who collectively made writing and editing a book during the hellscape of 2020 possible. And to Nate, Amalia, and Emmie, for being the cutest distractions ever. Dash, Pearl, and Camo, you too.
Next, to my team at Tor Teen, who were so gracious with my princess and her
love. To my editor, Susan Chang, for your enthusiasm and patience as I tried to get this book right—your kindness, understanding, and quick turnaround (every single time!), made everything fall into place, and I’m in your debt. To Melissa Frain, for loving it first. To Patrick Canfield, super assistant, for your careful work behind the scenes. To the fantastic publicity and marketing team, including Giselle Gonzalez, Saraciea Fennell, Isa Caban, Anthony Parisi, the social team, for your guidance and help in shepherding these books into the hands of readers. To Lesley Worrell, for her gorgeous cover design and Charlie Bowater, for the fantastic cover art. To production, including Nathan Weaver, Katherine Minerva, Jessica Katz, Steven Bucsok, and Rafal Gibek. And to everyone else at Tor Teen—thank you so much!
To my agent, Whitney Ross, who is always my first and best cheerleader. Your spirit and dedication to both my work and me were a light through the storm and swagger of 2020. I’m so very lucky that you opted to come along on this ride with me.
To my strong, local YA writers group—our Whine and Wine Zoom evenings were such a bright spot in this long slog. I miss seeing your shiny faces in person. Maybe, by the time this book is out, that will be a thing again. Or not. (Sigh.)
To my oldest friend, Cory “Cass Anaya” Johnson, whose life was cut short by COVID-19 in January 2021—you shaped this story and all my others just by being your wonderful self. I miss you.
And, finally, to my readers. Thank you for coming with me—and my characters—on yet another bloody jaunt into the Torrent. I hope that this story helped you get away from it all for more than a little while.
OTHER BOOKS BY SARAH HENNING
The Princess Will Save You: Book One of The Kingdoms of Sand and Sky
Sea Witch
Sea Witch Rising
Throw Like a Girl
About the Author
SARAH HENNING is a recovering journalist who has worked for The Palm Beach Post, The Kansas City Star, and the Associated Press, among others. When not writing, she runs ultramarathons, hits the playground with her two kids, and hangs out with her husband, Justin, who doubles as her long-suffering IT department.
Visit her online at sarahhenningwrites.com, or sign up for email updates here.
@shenning
@shenning
Thank you for buying this
Tom Doherty Associates ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
The Continent of the Sand and Sky
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Twenty Years Prior to Present Day
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Nine Years Prior to Present Day
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
The Day of King Sendoa’s Death
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other Books by Sarah Henning
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE QUEEN WILL BETRAY YOU
Copyright © 2021 by Sarah Henning
All rights reserved.
Cover illustration by Charlie Bowater
Cover design by Lesley Worrell
A Tor Teen Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
120 Broadway
New York, NY 10271
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-23746-0 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-23745-3 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250237453
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: 2021
The Queen Will Betray You Page 38