The First Queen: A Shifter Romance

by K. M. Carnoky

  Copyright © 2020 by K.M. Carnoky

  All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in, or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known, hereinafter invented, without express written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Typewriter Pub, an imprint of Blvnp Incorporated

  A Nevada Corporation

  1887 Whitney Mesa DR #2002

  Henderson, NV 89014

  www.typewriterpub.com/info@typewriterpub.com

  ISBN: 978-1-64434-115-5

  DISCLAIMER

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. While references might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  THE FIRST QUEEN

  K.M. CARNOKY

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Dedicated to all of my teachers over the years.

  My love of writing wouldn’t have grown so larger without you.

  FREE DOWNLOAD

  Get these freebies when you sign up for the

  author’s mailing list!

  https://bit.ly/KMCarnoky-WEB

  Chapter One

  I hummed to myself as I untangled the horse's mane, contentment flowing through me. The tall workhorse basked in my attention. It was so still, it almost looked like it was already sleeping. While I worked away to remove all the knots he had accumulated in the past week, the sound of a soft snore filled the air. The coarse black hairs eventually started sliding through the old comb with ease, and I smiled to myself. Now, it was time for the rest of him, and the old gelding didn't mind. This was probably his favorite day of the week as he adored human contact, and because of that, he had earned the title of being my favorite creature. I bring him joy after long days of plowing the fields, and he makes me feel less lonely when the sun begins to set and I hadn’t spoken to a single soul yet. The farm we lived in was miserable, and the old beast was hardly cared for considering his aging body, yet he always nickered to me and deeply enjoyed our quiet time together. I would whisper to him details from my day and watch those ears flicker back and forth. For a while, it would make me feel less alone. It seemed he was the only creature I could truly call a friend. And after losing my beloved Edna, a chicken, I wasn’t prepared to befriend the other animals that could be eaten.

  When I moved to fetch a brush for his filthy coat, I winced at the sound of my shackles and the soreness of my ankles. For the hundredth time, I regretted the actions that led me to this position. In my younger years, I had tried to run away from my owners too many times, and they would simply not have it anymore. They were both too tired and too old to be chasing after me and worrying every night about another escape attempt. So, now, this was my reality. My hands were free to work, but my legs were shackled together by a thick chain and locked with clamps. I could shuffle and bumble around at a slow pace, moving with little half-steps, but I couldn’t get more than a couple hundred yards in an hour. At first, the shackles had been agony to wear, biting into the skin so angrily; now, there was just a constant ache and the occasional twinge that reminded me of my wrongs.

  It could've been worse though, and I should be thankful for what freedom I did have. At least that's what I told myself as I began running the brush down the horse's coat with long sweeping motions. I could've been left on the street to die in the wretched winters. Or I could've been forced to work in a factory where the pollutants that floated through the air would fill my lungs until I died at the ripe age of twenty-five. Or, when I had initially been abandoned by my mother, I could've even been sold as a sex slave to some awful man with disgusting desires. Hell, I might've even encountered a werewolf when I was so young, barely six years old.

  I shuddered at the possibilities. This was a much better reality than any of those. True, I was shackled, but my life still held brief moments of joy. Like the bond with old gelding, teaching myself to read using old picture books, and the plants that I managed to grow and sell in the markets. These were all things I had accomplished myself that wouldn’t have been possible anywhere else.

  Unfortunately, though I was safe from many threats now that I had been purchased, werewolves were still a very possible danger to everyone. Rich and poor. Married or single. No matter the societal status, we all bare the same fear. We were all the same to the beasts.

  Werewolves had been discovered after a series of mistakes had led humans right into one of their tribes. I believe they called them packs. At first, the werewolves had been terrified of humans and everything had been fine then. We lived in a delicate balance for a time as no one was ready to confront the opposing group. But, within the past twenty years, werewolves had become more aggressive, and through various altercations, they came to realize that they held the upper hand. Werewolf men were usually larger than most human men, and the beasts they turned into were much stronger than the average wolf. The had the intelligence of a human paired with the snapping jaws and long claws of a wolf. Once they realized this, they began pillaging our communities, stealing our women, and killing indiscriminately. We were constantly teetering on the brink of war. It was a horrible reality, and every week, I would hear a story from the other village slaves about another woman who was kidnapped or a man who had been found lying in his own cold blood. It was disgusting and gruesome, but the werewolves were too strong to conquer.

  The king at the time had tried to settle the whole dispute by marrying a werewolf woman, and the couple seemed quite pleased with both the match and the results. They even had a son who was now ruling with his wife, and the upper class seemed to love them.
But I refused to be fooled. I had heard too many repulsive stories about their actions to believe that one romantic union had ceased their wretched ways. Werewolves were animals simply disguised as humans. They were violent and vicious creatures that had no moral sense whatsoever. And I knew I was not alone in my thinking; many humans still feared and loathed the current king. There was nearly constant chatter about uprisings. I was no fool. I knew which side to be on.

  A loud clang startled me out of my thought process. The gelding was startled at the sound, tossing his head about and stamping his colossal hooves. I whirled around, nearly falling over my shackles to see my owner sneering at me, a pot of leftover potato water at his feet and a piece of stale bread floating in it.

  He was an unattractive man, and his wife was hardly any better. They matched the farm in that regard. Unappealing to those who passed by and worn down. In fact, unattractive seemed to be too kind a word. They were both quite overweight with bulging guts, oily faces, and hair that was slowly thinning. Both of them frequently stank of alcohol; one of beer, the other of wine. Neither of them were particularly kind or compassionate, and they only gave me enough nutrients to make it to the next day. Even compared to the other village slaves, I was thin. I was frequently exhausted because of how little food I was given, though it hardly mattered to them. My sole purpose was to protect the animals from thieves who lurked in the dark at night, and so far, they hadn't lost a single creature.

  “The first market of the season is next week. I will be taking your rhubarb with me.”

  “It’s not ready,” I grunted.

  “It was ready at this time last year; you even had some wild lilies,” he snapped, already becoming enraged.

  “This year has been harder on them. It’s been far too cold for them to grow so rapidly. The hyacinths haven’t even sprouted,” I countered, glaring at him.

  “You watch your tongue.”

  “Or what? You’ll get rid of me?” I challenged him. “You’ll find someone else in the village that can successfully grow plants from another province in your soil? Please do.”

  “My God, you are more trouble than you’re worth,” he spat. “Why did the Lord punish me with such an ungrateful creature?”

  His hand flexed by his side. I wondered if he was going to be brave enough to strike me. He had only done it a few times before, and though I could not physically fight him in shackles, I always found a way to get even.

  “Then undo these shackles and I promise you’ll never have to see me again.” I looked him straight in the eye.

  My owner stared at me for a while longer. I watched him back just as intensely, thinking that he was going to say something to me. Over the years, he had always complained about my sharp tongue, but he was never foolish enough to get rid of me. I was worth three times what he had paid for, and he was far too lazy to do the work himself.

  Then, without a word, he turned around and walked away. And the only thing in the world that I envied about that man was the fact that he could walk without having to take small, shuffled steps and drag a heavy chain along with him.

  I finished grooming the old plow horse before I sat myself down for my food.

  The potato water would've been disgusting for many normal people, but I had grown used to the starchy flavor. I saved the stale bread for last so I could wash away the taste of dirt and potatoes that coated my mouth. Once I had eaten, I ignored the rumbling in my stomach, my body wanting for more, and slipped into an empty stall with clean straw. I could hear the rustling of all the other animals around me as they settled in for the night. I laid myself down on the straw, curling up to keep as much body heat as I could. Underneath my body, I could feel the hard edges of the books I kept hidden away. I had stolen them so long ago. I didn’t recall how or why, but they had become my most treasured and old possessions. Then, for the hundredth time, I reminded myself that this whole situation could be much worse, and I fell asleep.

  Chapter Two

  A hard kick to the gut woke me up in the morning.

  I leapt to my feet, ready to fight off any thief that wanted to steal the chickens or a goat for himself despite the pain that resounded around my ribs. I wasn't large, but I was fast, and I had learned how to use my small size to my own advantage, even with the shackles on. The few times someone had challenged me, I had never been bested. But, this time, when I landed on my feet and prepared myself to deliver a hard punch, I didn’t see a stranger. Instead, it was my female owner who had awoken me and not some hungry man looking for his next meal. She glowered at me, and I immediately stood up straight. The woman was my owner, yes, but she was just as pathetic as her husband.

  Still, I was baffled. I was always up before my owners as I had to feed the animals early in the morning or they would become unruly, and when I looked around, I noticed the sun hadn't come up yet. It was still the small hours of the morning that few could tolerate. I turned my attention back to the woman with confusion written all over my face but didn't dare say a word.

  “The king is demanding all women of age to be brought to the palace immediately. His wife has gone missing or has left him,” she grunted out before bending over. An old key was clutched in her fat hand. “Serves that awful man right, thinking that his vile blood lines should mingle with a normal human woman. It takes a true beast to taint the purity of us humans. Poor thing. I hope she's alright.”

  With a soft click, the shackles around my ankles were released, clanging down againts the cold ground of the barn. I wanted to weep with joy when the fresh air left a subtle stinging sensation on the tender skin. Yes, freedom! But, a moment later, her announcement sank in, and I was filled with dread instead.

  The king's wife had left him which meant all the women would have to leave their homes and present themselves at the palace. From what I understood, it was a bit like a man selecting a horse at an auction. He would then pick a woman to be his bride and perhaps a few others to keep in his company. The whole process could take two hours, two days, or two years, if he wanted it to. And, in that time, he could do whatever he wanted to any of the women who entered the palace. The last time an event such as this took place, only a third of the girls made it back home. Others had been kept in the palace as servants, some were murdered on the journey to and from the castle, and others were snatched up to be slaves like me. The whole event was a terrifying gamble. I suddenly wished I had my shackles back on, that today would carry on like any normal day.

  “But my rhubarb and wild lilies . . . they will die, and we won't be able to sell them at the market,” I protested meekly.

  But it didn't matter. The woman didn't even flinch. It was like I had said nothing at all. I was the slave, so if my masters wanted me to go to the palace, then I hardly had a choice. And when it came to the king’s orders, she didn’t have much of a choice either. It was either she obeyed or faced penalty.

  I kept my mouth shut when the woman ordered me to disrobe and wash up in the stream behind the barn. It was a horrible experience as it always was. The water was utterly frigid, being fed by the snow and ice from the mountain range kilometers away. I would hold my breath and dunk my entire body in the shallow water, repressing a scream as I did so. After a few minutes, my body would smell less like chickens and cows, and my teeth would be hammering together in a violent chatter. Once that was over with, I didn't scoff at the ugly dress my owner used to replace my functional pants and loose shirt. The only benefit was that the dress smelled better and was certainly cleaner than my previous clothing. But I knew I had to wear a dress if I was going to be taken to the palace. Women who didn't wear the proper clothing often found themselves in trouble as not dressing like a decent lady gave men the wrong idea.

  After I was dressed correctly, I was handed a biscuit and a tiny cup of tea which I eagerly gulped down. Once I finished my measly breakfast, I was led outside to where my male owner had two horses saddled up. The couple didn't embrace each other or say good bye as I assumed lovers would.
They just grunted goodbyes, and within minutes, I was on the horse I had been grooming yesterday while the fat man led the way on a different horse.

  The ride was long and hard. We rode nonstop for over six hours. There was no break for food or for a simple stretch, and my body ached from exhaustion. Not only was the ride draining, it was also quite difficult because I hardly ever had to ride side-saddle, much less for such a long period of time. The position made me sore and weary, and I wanted to stop and rest before we were even halfway to the palace. I felt bad for myself, but I also felt bad for my horse. He was an old beast and had been retired from any strenuous activity in recent years. A journey like this must've been hell for the poor animal. Yet, I understood that he was my riding companion because he was slower in case I tried to get away, and if I was actually successful, he was the least valuable. But I didn't say a word. I knew that the man was already furious with the entire event, and had it not been mandatory for every woman of age to be present, he would've been sitting at home, lazing around like he often did. I'm certain that he regretted having a female slave at this point.

  This was all even more tedious because there was nearly no chance the king would pick me. He would have his pick of gorgeous women from all over the country. They would have money and grace that I could never dream of attaining, and they would know how to curtsy properly with striking smiles and fine cosmetics coating their cheeks. But all that suited me just fine. The last thing in the world that I wanted was to be tied down to a werewolf man for the rest of my life. No amount of money, status, or power would convince me otherwise. Who knew what kind of bloodlust ran through his veins?

  After what felt like an eternity, we reached the crest of a long steep hill, and I saw the palace for the first time in my life.

  The sun was rising behind the large structure, making it seem almost heavenly as it glowed. And what a beast it was, towering above the tallest trees in the forest while still sprawling across the land with its grey exterior. I couldn’t tear my eyes off of the large spires, flapping flags, and the seemingly tiny people that milled about the grounds. There must’ve been hundreds of them and dozens of horses. And just watching it was glorious.