PRAISE FOR EMILY R. KING’S
THE HUNDREDTH QUEEN SERIES
THE HUNDREDTH QUEEN
Winner of the 2017 Whitney and UTOPiA Awards for Best Novel by a Debut Author
“King’s debut is built on a solid premise that draws on Sumerian mythology for inspiration . . . The tale maintains a consistent thread as King embarks on a deep examination of sisterhood, first between Kali and her best friend Jaya, and later when she must fight the rajah’s other wives to keep her place within the palace.”
—Publishers Weekly
“The Hundredth Queen plunges readers into a fantasy world full of love, betrayal, rebellion, and magic.”
—Deseret News
“King writes multiple strong female characters, led by Kalinda, who has the loyalty and bravery of spirit to defend her friends even if that means facing death. Strong characterization, deep world building, page-turning action scenes and intrigue, as well as social commentary, make this book stand out. This outing opens a trilogy; readers will be eager to get their hands on the next installment.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“This lush and lovely first novel brings a beautiful and brutal culture to life. The ending is left open for sequels, and readers will eagerly follow Kalinda and Deven on their future adventures.”
—Booklist
“Filled with many action-packed sequences, forbidden romance, and unexpected surprises, this debut fantasy will appeal to teens who enjoy epic dramas with strong female characters.”
—School Library Journal
“A gripping plot with twists and turns, a unique setting, and strong female characters—a solid foray into the fantasy romance genre.”
—VOYA
“This book is definitely a page-turner . . .”
—Teenreads
“The Hundredth Queen is a culturally rich tale of both self-discovery and self-mastery. Emily R. King transports readers to a lush and fascinating world where our heroine, Kalinda, pitted against hardened and clever antagonists, embraces her weaknesses and follows her heart. King leaves you wondering, ‘What happens next?’”
—Charlie N. Holmberg, Wall Street Journal bestselling author of The Paper Magician series
“Richly imagined and gracefully written, The Hundredth Queen is a vibrant tale of forbidden love and personal sacrifice.”
—Becky Wallace, author of The Keepers’ Chronicles
THE FIRE QUEEN
“King treats the readers to stunning descriptions of Kalinda and her sister warriors’ characters, even giving villains redeeming traits and hints of sympathy. A descriptive action-packed fantasy in a vivid world . . .”
—Kirkus Reviews
“The most poignant and important parts of this novel are the relationships that blossom and grow. If you’re a fan of The Hundredth Queen, rest assured that The Fire Queen is definitely its equal. It’s just as fascinating, heartbreaking, and exciting . . .”
—Hypable
“A great follow-up to the series. King writes with such a vivid detail that the imagery of The Fire Queen is stunningly real. The world she created is both extremely dangerous and invitingly beautiful. You will be drawn into this world of fantasy with ease and it holds your attention till the very end.”
—Fresh Fiction
THE ROGUE QUEEN
“King delivers a fiery fantasy-adventure in her fast-paced third installment to the Hundredth Queen series. The Rogue Queen moves the series’ main action from a tournament to a large-scale war, injecting a feeling of freshness and vitality to the Hundredth Queen books . . . Kalinda’s crusade to save and unite her empire, regardless of the cost, will leave readers on the edge of their seats.”
—Booklist
“The Rogue Queen exposes new angles on established ideas and stories that make it a really enjoyable novel. It has the perfect amount of action and strategic planning, as well as a healthy dose of female empowerment. Fans of the series certainly won’t be disappointed with this new installment and, by the end of it, will be cheering ‘Bring on The Warrior Queen!’”
—Hypable
“This book is all high-stakes action and magic. The characters come alive even more . . .”
—Night Owl Reviews (Top Pick)
ALSO BY EMILY R. KING
The Evermore Chronicles
Before the Broken Star
Into the Hourglass
Everafter Song (forthcoming)
The Hundredth Queen Series
The Hundredth Queen
The Fire Queen
The Rogue Queen
The Warrior Queen
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2019 by Emily R. King
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Skyscape, New York
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Skyscape are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542092258 (hardcover)
ISBN-10: 1542092256 (hardcover)
ISBN-13: 9781542043946 (paperback)
ISBN-10: 1542043948 (paperback)
Cover design by Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design
First Edition
For Joseph,
My firstborn and my favorite reader
CONTENTS
Prologue
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
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Prologue
Once upon a time, before the worlds were crafted from the heavens, two competing stars each thought they were the greatest and brightest in all the cosmos. To prove their might, the stars set off in a race across the eternities. Both were so preoccupied with flying the fastest that they collided and shattered into tiny pieces.
Only a single prong of one star remained, and she was brokenhearted.
The Creator cradled the weeping star in her hands. She pitied the star and wished to give her a new purpose. Grasping the star like a blade, the Creator cut seven worlds from the cloth of the eternities. When finished, the star no longer belonged in the heavens. She was an immortal sword. The Creator gave the sword to a protector, for, in the wrong hands, the blade could be wielded to split apart the very worlds she had molded. After a while, the sword was so content in her new calling she forgot she was ever a star.
One day, the sword was hidden away and forgotten until, years later—in a moment appointed by fate—a sad little lass with a clock heart discovered her.
As the
sword rested in the girl’s eager hands, she remembered that, before she was a blade, she had been a star. Although the lass was also broken, she, too, had a purpose, and together, the two of them would rival the sun.
Chapter One
Nothing and no one hides more secrets than the sea. Forgotten stories whisper over the whitecaps, lurk under the reflective surface, and dissipate in the winds. Our ship groans and creaks as her full sails elbow a path through the crests of the deep. Our course is set for the far-off thunderheads, making way for another world.
After two months of sailing open waters, neither I nor the captain nor our crew of outlaws on the Cadeyrn of the Seas can isolate our precise heading. My skill in reading and creating maps and my strong sense of direction are no help either. To find our destination—a portal to an Otherworld—we must lose ourselves in our own world.
I spy the marine sandglass on the navigation table. The sand has poured from the upper half of the glass through the constricting middle and down to the base. We turn it three times a day, once for each eight-hour watch. In the next minute or so, the marker will be spent.
Captain Vevina mans the helm, her wavy brown hair tied back, a tricorn hat low on her head. She wears a burgundy work dress, her bosom high and proud. The former street gambler is on the hunt for a grand treasure. I am after a prince.
The last grains of sand fall in the glass. Between the tick and tock of my clockwork heart, I turn the sandglass over, and the next eight-hour period commences.
“Will you visit Jamison now?” Vevina asks.
“He doesn’t want to see me.”
“He’s your husband.”
“He’s our prisoner.”
Vevina laughs. “Many people view marriage as a sort of prison. Go on. Tell him if he changes his mind and wants to join my crew, I’ll release him.”
“He won’t. Not after what we’ve done.”
Vevina and I were sentenced to seven years at the penal colony on a distant isle from our home in the Realm of Wyeth. The settlement was overseen by Prince Killian, known by most as Governor Markham. After the colony was destroyed and Markham fled, we boarded this ship and Vevina led a mutiny against Jamison, our interim captain. We had to detain him belowdecks or I would have lost momentum tracking the prince.
Captain Vevina grips the wheel, her attention on the horizon. “We should reach the storm within the hour. You may not get another chance to visit him.”
I peer at the moody sky. The Terrible Dorcha, the monstrous whale that swallowed Markham and the ancient sword of Avelyn, travels back and forth between our world and the Land Under the Wave through mighty tempests—portals unreachable by other means. Finding the whale is our best chance of recovering my sword.
Tugging my red wool gloves high up my wrists, I descend to the main deck. Laverick and Claret are loitering by my cabin door.
“We dropped a coin,” Claret says, her slight accent rolling her r’s softly. Her catlike eyes shine mischievously, and her yellow frock complements the golden undertones of her deep-tan skin.
Laverick’s chestnut hair is pulled back, accentuating her nose, which is long and narrow like a fox’s. Cannon fuses are tucked at the waist of her skirt, the tops hanging out like droopy flowers. The Fox and the Cat are always up to no good.
“We know she’s in there,” says Laverick. “We just want a peek at her.”
“I have no idea to what you’re referring,” I reply.
Claret pulls at her friend’s sleeve. “Let’s go, Lavey. Everley will let us in when she’s ready.”
They stride off together, arm in arm, and I go inside my sunlit cabin.
“Radella?” I ask.
The azure pixie, tall as my hand, tiptoes out from behind books on a shelf, her gossamer wings tucked close to her little body.
“The Fox and the Cat were skulking around outside. If they ever get in, stay hidden.”
Radella makes a motion like she’s bopping someone over the head.
“No, don’t hurt them. Well, not unless they’re deserving.”
The Fox and the Cat have guessed I’ve hidden Radella aboard and have taken it upon themselves to uncover her. The two have been fascinated with pixies since they learned the creatures can vanish things with magical dust sprinkled from their wings.
I spot a letter on the desk by Cleon’s fishbowl. A picture of a daisy adorns the top of it, Father Time’s calling card. I rush over and scoop up the letter.
“Did Father Time leave this? Was he here?”
Radella nods. I rip open the letter.
Dearest Everley,
We’re sorry we missed you, but we’re pleased you’re on your way to the Land Under the Wave. It’s paramount that you find the sword of Avelyn. The fate of the worlds depends on you, as does any hope of your returning home. Be careful in the Land Under the Wave and take precious care of your clock heart.
Your friend,
Father Time
I inhale the sweet scent of the daisy. Some people become seasick during long voyages. I have become homesick, and the only cure is to return home to Dorestand and my uncle. But first, I must take back the sword of Avelyn from Markham and return it to Father Time before the prince does something horrendous with the immortal blade.
Radella flies down and lands on the musical composition that she finished this morning. Her pointy ears and chin are impish and her big eyes always suspicious. Pixies are musical creatures, and Radella trills beautifully, or she did. I haven’t heard her sing since Jamison was locked below. I try to slip the music out from under her, but she glares and flutters her wings in warning.
“Don’t you dare,” I say before she disappears the music. Last week, we had a spat and the scamp vanished my comb. “I’ll tell Jamison the song is from you.”
The pixie stomps her bare foot, her toes stained charcoal. Her feet are the ideal size for making musical notes, so she dipped them in ink and left prints on the lined measures to write a song. She motions at herself, then at my pocket, and finally the door.
“You know you can’t come.”
Her wings wilt.
“I’m sorry, Radella. You’re safest here.” Captain Vevina isn’t fond of otherworldly creatures. Most humans believe pixies are a myth, but Vevina knows they’re real. Unfortunately, she’s of the opinion that any magic is trouble. Naturally, I haven’t told her about my stowaway.
Radella flies back to the upper shelf, and on her way, she kicks Cleon’s bowl. The goldfish swims around, oblivious to her temper. I once asked Radella why she dislikes him, and she made chomping motions with her hands.
I glimpse my reflection in the glass fishbowl and wince. My hair is tousled, and my clothes are disheveled from the wind. I discard my trousers, shirt, and waistcoat and put on a blue frock. Men’s clothes conceal my ticker better, but where I’m going, a dress is more fitting.
A sudden faintness washes over me. I brace against the bunk and squeeze my eyes shut until it passes. Since Jamison replaced my waterlogged parts, my clock heart has beat weaker. These bouts of light-headedness started around the same time I noticed the softening ticks. The two are clearly connected, though I cannot say which is the cause and which the symptom. Do the dizzy spells reduce the force of my heart’s ticking, or is it the other way around?
I run my fingers through my tresses and scowl at my unsightly chin scar. Markham inflicted the wound, a detail that bothers me more than the pain did. Every time I look at myself, I think of him.
“Radella, I’ll be back soon.”
I cross the main deck under billowing sails, the waves rising to mountainous swells, and descend through the hatch. A few dissenters, former sailors from the queen’s navy, are chained in the main hold. Markham’s accomplice Harlow lies on the floor on her back, her feet propped against the wall. She tosses a bean sack up and catches it in her shackled hands. Her indifference about her imprisonment has left Vevina and me wondering what she knows about Markham’s capture by the whale. We tried bribing
her with smoking tobacco, but she wouldn’t cooperate. No one else on board besides her and Jamison know about my ticker. Harlow could use this information for her gain, yet she would rather hold it over my head.
Down the dim corridor, toward the bow of the ship, Jamison’s voice carries through an open door. “This is your fate line. Not many people have one, but look there. Yours is visible.”
I pause outside Jamison’s room near the guard on duty. Quinn and Jamison sit together by the table, her cat asleep on his lap. He’s holding her right hand and studying her palm.
“The fate line is your destiny,” he says. “We’re all born with a purpose, and this line indicates how important that purpose is to the fate of the worlds.”
“Why is mine so short?” Quinn asks. She’s pinned her hair up, giving her the impression that she is older than her twelve years.
“The length of your fate line doesn’t matter, only its legibility.” Jamison touches her palm again. “Yours is deep, which means you’re very important to the Creator.”
I step across the threshold into plain view of them. Jamison lifts his chin high and glances away. Quinn pulls her hand from his.
“Everley, you came for a palm reading!”
“Perhaps another time.” I survey Jamison’s small quarters. The room is furnished with a hammock, a table, and two chairs. A chess game is set out on the table, and his violin case rests in the corner untouched. “We’ve tracked down a storm. Quinn, why don’t you go up top and get ready?”
“But we’re in the middle of a reading.”
“We’ll continue later.” Jamison smiles at Quinn briefly, long enough to remind me what I’ve been missing.
The lass scoops her cat off his lap and drapes him over her shoulder. The big feline purrs as I scratch his head. Quinn stands taller than when we left home, but she is still the youngest member of the crew. Cradling her cat, she takes her leave.
Jamison dismantles the chess game, placing the pieces in the game box, his golden hair framing his scruffy face. His beard and sideburns grew in redder than his head hair, an imperfection that is insurmountably charming.
“You haven’t touched your violin,” I note.
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