The Rebel’s Queen

Prologue

Brom watched the archers atop the wall, their arrows nocked, drawn—and pointed at him. He glanced over his shoulder to where his own small army of men waited out of shooting range, hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Two empty carts sat behind them, dusted with fresh snow and ready to be loaded. Brom’s eyes returned to the soldiers, weapons steady in their hands. He was very much within shooting range. An act of faith. It would be a shame to die after such a long and painful negotiation.

A crow cawed and took flight as the gate split down the middle, revealing a sliver of what awaited him on the other side.

‘Want me to come with you?’ Carac asked.

Brom glanced sideways at him. ‘Won’t do much good.’

‘Might give you a chance to escape if the need arises.’

Brom exhaled through his nose. ‘There’s no escaping him right now.’ He nudged his horse with his heels. ‘Wait here.’

The shuffle of small feet reached him through the widening gap. His eyes narrowed on the cluster of children huddled between two guards, looking suitably wary. Their ages ranged from six to fourteen. The older ones feigned confidence well enough while the younger ones failed miserably. One even tried to turn back. He was confusing familiar with safe. An older boy caught him by the arm, shoving him forwards. Brom looked past them to where Jayr sat on horseback, watching him with a dark expression.

His brother.

His king.

The man who wished him dead.

‘That is far enough,’ Jayr called out.

Brom stopped his horse a few paces from the gate and waited for the children to reach him. The arrows above followed his every move.

‘This is all of them?’ Brom asked one of the guards.

‘One more to come,’ he replied, glancing over his shoulder.

Brom followed his line of sight to a cloaked woman holding a young boy. Arms and legs wrapped her tightly. Even at that distance, Brom could hear the child crying. It was Queen Cora—better known as the Ice Queen. She met his gaze, unflinching, as she held the boy’s head against her shoulder. Brom snuck a glance at Jayr. The king’s eyes held a warning for him.

Cora stopped a few feet away, slightly out of breath from the effort of carrying the young boy through two feet of fresh snowfall. They regarded each other for a moment.

‘Your Majesty,’ he said, breaking the silence between them. He focused on the boy. ‘Who do we have here?’

‘He cannot walk.’ The words came out with a puff of steam.

Brom looked him over. ‘Why’s that?’

‘He injured his ankle.’

‘How?’

She swallowed. ‘Training, I think.’

‘Ah.’ Brom closed the distance between them, and the arrows followed him once more.

‘He is also scared,’ Cora added. ‘Perhaps he could ride with you.’ She whispered the last part.

Brom searched her face for a moment. She was striking close up, with those green eyes and that porcelain skin. Lashes and lips for days. ‘Are you the one who wrote me?’

Her eyes moved between his. ‘That would be a betrayal to my husband.’

She did not say no. Not that it mattered—it was the same outcome regardless of who the informant was—yet for some strange reason, he wanted to know if it was her. The person had known things he suspected only a queen could know, like just how far a king can be pushed in a negotiation. He decided not to interrogate her while her husband was watching.

He was reaching for the boy when he noticed a bruise on her left cheek. It reached all the way to her eye. She had done her best to cover the mark with powder. ‘What happened to your face?’

He should have just taken the boy, said nothing.

She peeled arms from her neck. ‘Take him.’ Her tone was cold.

Brom settled the sniffling boy against his chest, looking at her the whole time. ‘You have a fall?’

‘Something like that.’ Her hand went to the child’s back. ‘Brom is going to take you somewhere safe. You can trust him.’

Her voice was soft and reassuring when she addressed the child. Brom had no idea what to make of her. ‘He can ride with me.’

She nodded, meeting his gaze once more. He was at least a foot and a half taller than her, but she was not the slightest bit intimidated.

‘He will buy more,’ she said.

He squinted. ‘Boys?’

The slightest nod from her.

Brom stepped back, and her bright eyes followed him like the arrows. ‘Then I guess I’ll wait for that anonymous letter.’ He winked, looked one more time at the mark on her face, and went to leave.

‘His name is Perrin, by the way,’ she said, stopping him. ‘He does not talk much.’

Her expression had softened considerably. Anyone would have thought she was sorry to see the boy go.

‘Cora!’ Jayr’s voice cut through the still air like a blade. ‘Inside. Now.’

She looked over her shoulder, acknowledging her husband with a nod, then back at Brom.

He regarded her for the longest time before speaking. ‘He’s not allowed to hit you, you know. He could lose his crown.’

Something resembling amusement passed over her face. ‘And who is going to take it from him? You?’ She glanced a final time at Perrin, then turned and trudged back through the gate.

Coming April 27th. Who’s ready?