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 worldbuilding, page-turning action scenes and intrigue, as well as social commentary, make this book stand out. 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
“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
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 (forthcoming)
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: 9781542043786 (hardcover)
ISBN-10: 1542043786 (hardcover)
ISBN-13: 9781542043762 (paperback)
ISBN-10: 154204376X (paperback)
Cover design by Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design
First edition
For Jason Kirk.
Onward!
CONTENTS
Start Reading
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
Dead men don’t bite.
—Robert Louis Stevenson, Treasure Island
Prologue
In the beginning, there was no time, and no man or beast walked the world. Where the ocean met the land, an ivory mare was born, her mane crafted from sea-foam and her body from barnacles. She was the Creator, goddess of all conception and supreme ruler of seven worlds.
The Creator planted the seed of life in her most precious world, and a mighty elderwood tree grew to hold up the sky and nourish life. The elderwood bore creatures of all kinds—including giants from her bark, elves from her leaves, and mankind from her acorns. This elite triad of brothers and sisters dwelled in harmony, but the Creator knew peace was temporary. Avarice, wrath, and pride would set her children against each other, so she appointed a lesser god as guardian over them and commanded that he give every living thing a time to be born and a time to die.
But this story isn’t about death.
Not yet.
Chapter One
A cacophony of ticktocking resounds through the otherwise hushed clockmaker’s shop. When I first came to live with Uncle Holden, the relentless ticking drove me mad. A decade later, the chant of time is now a comfort—his handcrafted timepieces echo the cadence of my wooden clockwork heart.
The bell on the front door jingles, and I look up from my book to see a blond gentleman step in from the foggy street. The man is a naval officer—a lieutenant, judging by his gray wool uniform and somber
expression. He must be a noble. He’s too young to have worked his way up through the ranks, and only noblemen may enlist in the queen’s navy as officers.
The lieutenant admires the assortment of fine clocks, his eyes a startling blue. His high forehead is offset by a full mouth and a stern, square jaw. He fixates on the one clock in the shop decorated with delicate hand-painted daisies. Though his shoulders remain unerringly straight, he walks with a slight limp to the daisy clock and runs an admiring finger over the top.
My lips tense. “May I help you?”
The lieutenant’s gaze shifts to me at the clerk’s desk. “Good afternoon, miss. I’m here to pick up an order.”
“Name?” I set aside the map I was studying and open the customer log.
“I’m Jamison Callahan, but the order is under Markham.”
My fingers rattle against the paper. Before I allow my mind to spin away with unfounded conclusions, I remind myself that Markham is a common enough surname in the Realm of Wyeth. The lieutenant could be on an errand for someone else.
Another jingle as the front door opens and a second customer enters.
“Lieutenant Callahan,” says the man, embracing the young sailor, “I didn’t expect to meet you here. I thought the captain would be meeting me.”
My neck hairs bristle as I glance from the corner of my eye at the older naval officer, middle-aged with a service sword sheathed at his waist. I could never forget that voice; its gut-shaking deepness is scored into my memory.
A ticking booms in my ears. My clockwork heart, a device like a pocket watch that functions in place of my real heart, trips into a sprint.
“The captain is overseeing the arrival of the first prisoners,” the lieutenant explains. “He asked that you forgive his absence, sir.”
“All is forgiven,” says Governor Killian Markham. “I’m glad you’re in my service again, Callahan. You’ll be a tremendous addition to the first fleet. What changed your mind about going?”
Callahan’s countenance turns rigid. “My father and I had a disagreement in which he disavowed me of my inheritance. He was within his bounds.”
The governor pats the lieutenant’s back. “My apologies for prying. You’re an understanding son. In time, I’m certain you and your father will mend this.”
Hidden under my clothes, the regulator for my clock heart chimes a warning to calm down. I cannot. Not as Lieutenant Callahan and Governor Markham continue their conversation. Not as the lieutenant turns his curious gaze to the ringing coming from my location. Not as the governor’s gaze narrows on me. I clutch the neckline of my dress closed over my scar. The monster has found me.
Uncle Holden’s footfalls echo at my back and then he rests a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Everley, I’ll assist Governor Markham. You may go.”
I usually attend to the storefront while my uncle tinkers in his workshop, unconcerned by our customers, but Markham is not a typical patron.
The governor crosses to the desk, a flintlock pistol as well as his rapier at his waist. His boots have been shined to a polish, by a servant no doubt, and his dress coat fits his trim chest and waist impeccably, his silk neckerchief matching his wolfish gray eyes. The noisy clocks in the shop drum louder. I wait for him to recognize me, to picture me as the raven-haired seven-year-old girl I was when we met a decade ago. Uncle Holden squeezes my shoulder, a command to flee. But Markham does not recognize me. Why would he? He thinks I’m dead.
I want to scream—I am Everley Donovan, daughter of Brogan Donovan! But terror arrests me, as real and raw as the night Markham came to my family’s seaside manor under the guise of friendship. He was an admiral then, my father’s expedition partner. By some fateful trick, he looks the same. From his trimmed beard to his chestnut hair tied at the nape of his neck to the overconfident tilt of his lips. I recall his smile as he held a sword to my mother’s throat. He later battled my father with that same sword, its blade slick with my mother’s blood.
I duck into the workshop out of view and press my back to the wall. The striking clocks of the showroom pursue me. I cannot break free from the clawing hours or the bleeding seconds. My heart regulator rings again, a backup alarm for the ticker. I cover the sound emitter, muting the warning blare, and peer around the doorway.
“Holden O’Shea,” Governor Markham says, shaking my uncle’s hand. “I’ve been told you make the finest clocks in all of Wyeth. Have you finished our order?”
“I have, sir.” Onto the counter my uncle sets the marine chronometer, which uses longitude to guide ships by means of celestial navigation. The cords of my trust fray. My uncle did not mention who would receive his latest model of the portable time standard. According to him, Markham didn’t associate with the O’Sheas. My father, the Baron McTigue, married my uncle’s sister, a woman of lower standing.
“How does it function?” Markham asks.
I miss my uncle’s reply because the governor’s voice evokes a memory of Markham ordering his men to force my siblings and me at gunpoint out of the room, separating us from our mother and father.
Pain unfolds across my chest. I lean in from the doorway and press a clammy palm over my clockwork heart. I should rest. My ticker could seize if I push it too hard, but Markham has been gone from Wyeth for years. I cannot let this opportunity pass.
The governor counts out a fat stack of bills. “Here’s your payment, Mr. O’Shea. Pardon my leave, I’ve other matters in need of my attention. I’ll entrust the remainder of our business to Lieutenant Callahan. The queen thanks you for your service.”
He picks up the chronometer to go. My sword is stashed beneath the desk, but Uncle Holden won’t let me grab it in time. My gaze falls to the tools scattered across the workbench.
The bell on the entry door rings.
I swipe a chisel off the bench and round the corner into the storefront. Through the street window, I spot Governor Markham climbing into a horse-drawn carriage. Each strike of my heart punches through me—no, no, no—as the governor’s buggy hastens away.
Chase him, my fury urges.
But he’s already out of sight, and I won’t be able to distinguish his black carriage from the countless others on the streets of Dorestand in time. I glance at my sword beneath the desk, which is worthless now, and shuffle backward, stepping in time with my ticker. Gone, gone, gone.
Callahan glances at the chisel in my fist. I glare into his wide eyes, pouring the full breadth of my anger on him. The lieutenant serves in the governor’s fleet. No man under Markham’s supervision deserves respect.
“Everley,” Uncle Holden says quietly. His round eyes, the same cornflower blue as my mother’s and mine, relay an apology.
Shoulders sinking, I set down the chisel. I lost Markham. The monster who murdered my family and stabbed me in the chest as a girl has gotten away.
Uncle Holden picks up the chisel and slips it into his pocket. He’s worried I will demolish his shop in a fit of temper. He thinks I am reckless, unpredictable.
I have never been more focused.
Markham has returned to Dorestand—the man himself, not some ghoulish nightmare harassing my dreams—and I froze like a winter lake.
He left without even knowing my name.
My heart ticktocks louder than any clock in the shop, a shout in a symphony of murmurs. I should lie down, but I want to learn everything I can about Markham’s return.
Callahan clears his throat and speaks to my uncle, casting wary glances in my direction. “The governor asked that I take the second marine chronometer to the captain of the Lady Regina. We’re bound for Dagger Island with precious cargo.”
Gooseflesh scuttles up my spine. Over a decade ago, Queen Aislinn commissioned my father and Markham to settle more land and expand her rule, which is, according to our ruler, the destiny of the Realm of Wyeth. As such, we are at the forefront of exploration and ahead of the other three realms in transportation. Our naval fleet is the greatest in the world. The second closest realm has but
nineteen ships, and we have seventy.
With our fleet, the queen set out to claim uncharted lands. My father, a great explorer, rediscovered Dagger Island. He was the first person in centuries to set foot on the mystic isle known as the Kingdom of Amadara.
Every child has heard the tales of the Ruined Kingdom and the tragic separation of Princess Amadara and her lost prince. Legends of this bygone world discouraged many from claiming or charting the isle. After my father completed his exploration, he recommended that the queen not settle the wild, remote island. Queen Aislinn listened until recent years, when her need for land increased. Concerned about the danger of prison riots in her overcrowded jails, she commissioned a fleet of ships laden with male convicts and soldiers to sail to Dagger Island and leave the men to settle there, and then she promoted Markham to govern the outpost.
Uncle Holden lifts a second marine chronometer onto the desk. “Can you say what the precious cargo is, Lieutenant?”
“Female convicts.” Callahan’s gaze flattens to an unreadable wall, hiding his opinion on the matter. “Queen Aislinn is sentencing them to serve as wives of the settlers at the penal colony.”
I dream of sailing and exploring like my father, but the isle is no place for people. Thousands of leagues away from Dagger Island here in Dorestand, we have heard the accounts of the settlers’ starvation and sickness and, odder, rumblings of men disappearing in the island’s dense forest. It is said the Ruined Kingdom, at the center of the isle, is protected by a curse. But the queen doesn’t believe in sorcery.
“You’re assigned to the outpost?” Uncle Holden asks. “I’ve been told the survival rate is one in four.”
“My orders are to oversee the female convicts on their voyage,” Callahan replies, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “We embark day after tomorrow.”
“And the governor?” I ask, ignoring my uncle’s silencing look.
The lieutenant’s attention sharpens on me. “Markham’s ship departs at dawn.”
Bloody bones. The governor has been stationed overseas on Dagger Island for years. Come morning, he will be out of my reach again.
Before the Broken Star Page 1