About half my stock was sold when a particularly destitute-looking cluster of children edged in the direction to my stall. I scowled at them, hoping they didn’t come any closer because I already knew I’d end up handing over something to them if they did. Melaina must’ve really made me appear cantankerous, though, it only took me one glance in their direction for them to scatter.
Crap. Now I felt shitty. It was on the tip of my tongue to call them back and shower them with free goods when a commotion in the crowd caught my attention.
Something big was happening. And the small warning hairs rising on the back of my neck told me I wasn’t going to like it. The crowds shifted, attention narrowed in one direction, voices changed.
And just like that, everything inside me went on immediate alert.
I braced myself, preparing for anything.
Chapter 2
Quilla
“Hey,” I called to the onion man selling his bulbs next to me. “What’s going on?”
“Haven’t you heard?” He sent me an annoyed frown for daring to talk to him. “The queen’s visiting today. And I guess she’s decided to come to market.”
“The queen?” I turned curiously, hoping to catch a look for myself.
Melaina and I hadn’t been in the kingdom of Far Shore long—maybe three or four days—but a lot of change had happened here recently it seemed. The whole country was all astir with juicy gossip about it, anyway.
I guess a princess from the neighboring land of Donnelly had overthrown and killed the king and queen here, married the king’s bastard son, and then taken over the rule herself. She was rumored to be young and beautiful and far kinder and more benevolent to the people than the last ruler had ever been. So, the locals weren’t quite sure yet whether to love or hate her. They sure liked to talk about her, though.
The Outer Realms had never had a female govern any of its territories before. That garnered some respect from me right there, but I still wanted to see this girl with my own eyes, because there was no way she could be as spectacularly lovely as everyone made her out to be.
A sudden hush fell over the people, and the crowds automatically parted to let a wave of Far Shore soldiers through the clearing, their weapons held ready at their sides, prepared to protect their leader with violence and their own lives if necessary.
Instantly on edge, I shied a step back before reminding myself it was only High Cliff soldiers who’d ever been sent out to hunt Graykeys down and eliminate them. The army here in Far Shore wouldn’t be so fervent to look for me, and besides, my glamour was holding surprisingly well in this breeze. No one would even know I was a despised Graykey.
Even though it was impossible to see my mark, as I wore long sleeves and had the glamour hiding it, I tucked the inside of my forearm firmly against my rib cage, keeping it held close to my side.
And then, there she was: the new young queen—pale dress fluttering in the wind and long, dark hair flowing behind her. She didn’t ride in a fancy carriage nor was she mounted on a horse, but she walked—fucking walked—among her subjects as if she were one of them, out for a daily stroll like a normal, average person.
Incredible.
She did seem pretty from here—a perfect, slim but still pleasantly curved form and a mass of dark hair. At least the rumor about her visage didn’t seem to be an exaggeration.
But then I sniffed and rolled my eyes when I saw a High Cliff mark blaring from her temple. Stupid tattoo. It was a custom for all High Clifters to get their fancy mark at birth, but all the thing did was help them recognize their true love at first sight. They didn’t grant people wisdom or strength or even logical thinking. Their only purpose was to find a life partner.
Meaningless, if you wanted my opinion.
So it surprised me to see one on the queen here in Far Shore.
Then again, she was Donnellean-born, and Donnelly had formed an alliance with High Cliff over five years ago when the kings from both realms had joined fidelities with each other by marrying the High Cliff princess off to the Donnelly prince. It made sense that Donnelly would begin to adopt some of High Cliff’s ways, I suppose. Even if their ways were ridiculously idiotic.
The queen had her arm hooked securely to the man at her side as she walked. That must be her husband, the last king’s bastard son. Except she seemed to be dragging him along against his will. When he stopped suddenly, resisting her pull and jarring her to a halt next to him, I frowned curiously and focused on his face.
And I immediately pulled back with a gasp. He bore a High Cliff mark as well.
His mark was a bit more shocking, though. It seemed less likely to me that a Far Shore man—like the king’s bastard—would take on such a richly High Cliff practice. But what did I know? What did it even matter? What I couldn’t get past the most was the disconcerting fact that he seemed to be looking straight at me.
Or maybe I was wrong.
He and the queen weren’t that close to me; they were nearly on the other side of the square, but his attention was definitely focused in this direction, and it felt as if he were peering inside me. Even the onion seller and fishmonger were sending me odd glances, as if they too thought he was staring at me and no one else.
Okay, that couldn’t be good.
I had no idea what this meant, but it made me distinctly uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be on anyone’s royal radar, not even if it was only Far Shore royalty.
A second later, the prince consort spun away and stalked off, literally dragging the queen with him. She must’ve said something to get him to stop because he halted again a moment after that.
When a new man approached them, I realized he’d been walking alongside the two the whole time, keeping to the opposite side of the queen as the other man. I just hadn’t paid him any attention until now.
The new fellow said something to the queen, and she shook her head, appearing confused. So the man slapped the prince’s arm to gain his attention and jostle him from whatever daze had gripped him.
The prince sliced him with a perturbed glower. Uncaring, the second man lifted his hands as if demanding an explanation for his behavior, and the prince turned away again, determined to ignore both the man and the queen as he ran his hands over his face in extreme agitation.
The queen must’ve grown fed up with being left in the dark because she spoke to him with a flurry of flying hands and annoyed yet concerned expressions. But her husband only clutched his head in his hands and looked up toward the heavens as if seeking advice.
The queen kept pestering him, hands on her hips now, like any typical beleaguered wife, until she said something that finally gained a response. He glared at her, spitting something back, and whatever he said caught her completely off guard.
She turned to the other man, sharing a look with him. He seemed equally surprised by whatever the prince had told them. From that point on, the queen and the unknown man seemed to gang up on him with a flood of questions until the prince held up a finger to quiet them.
The queen and the other man shared another look, and something familiar and cohesive passed between them. I frowned, beginning to wonder just who this second male was.
That’s when I realized…
Among the gossip I’d heard, a third person was mentioned quite often in relation to the new queen. She’d come to Far Shore with a bodyguard and personal protector, an ex-High Cliff soldier who she’d made captain and leader of her armies. He was rumored to be at her side as much as her husband was.