Page 4 of Wrath of the Never Queen

He spits out these last words before turning away. With a sinking feeling, I realise I recognise him. His daughter was the latest in a long line of Never Queens. Women sent to break an unbreakable curse. Six months to break the curse, to gift true love to the monstrous prince, before their head is forfeit. Six months of mourning before the next is chosen. A barbaric cycle, leaving only bodies in its wake. Another reason to leave Mossgarde behind.

“My condolences,” I murmur, unsure what else to say. He only grunts in response. He has already spoken out of turn, and others have been put to the chopping block for less. But perhaps he does not care anymore. Only one more week until the next Never Queen volunteers, and his daughter is forgotten.

“You should get going,” the other man tellsme. He looks pointedly at the man I hit as he begins to find his bearings once more. I agree and leave quickly, a weight on my chest that had not been there before. At five-and-twenty, I am one of a rapidly dwindling pool of women in Mossgarde of marriageable age. I had never, and would never, volunteer. I can only look on as others line up and hope one of them breaks the curse, freeing the Beast of Mossgarde. At least until I am accepted into Frostalm’s House of Learning and I can escape this place.

The first and only time I witnessed a maiden being put to the chopping block, Aunt Meena had gripped my hand tight. Her eyes were like steel. She whispered to me just loud enough so only I could hear.

“I wonder if the prince is cursed or the entire village.”

Chapter 2

The library, although small, makes the most of its space. Books pile high on every surface, including most of the floor. The air is laden with the pleasant musk of paper and ink. People rarely visit anymore, and when I arrive, only my aunt sits in the corner.

She rests on a small stool, her back against the wall and her legs propped up on a low shelf. One of her legs, made of smooth, polished wood and decorated with intricate purple patterns, pokes out from beneath her skirt. She jumps when I enter but relaxes when she sees me, sagging back against the wall.

“Oh. It is only you, Shivani,” she breaths, hand on her chest. “You frightened me.”

“Apologies, Auntie.” I smile sheepishly. “I did not mean to interrupt.”

She closes her book and waves a hand dismissively.

“Nonsense. You know full well you arewelcome here anytime.” Her eyes glance over me. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“Do not play the fool with me, child,” she says, standing and dusting herself down. “Not that good-for-nothing father of yours, is it?”

The question is rhetorical. It is always my good-for-nothing father. I sigh heavily and sit down, placing my book on another stack of books.

“He has gambled my savings,” I say miserably. Anger bubbles beneath the surface of my skin. “The fee I need for Frostalm House of Learning…it is gone.”

Aunt Meena sits back, her eyebrows knitted together.

“Oh, Shivani…” She reaches across to place a warm hand on my arm. “An absolute wastrel, that man is. A wastrel and a fiend.”

Fury and sadness rise to the fore of my mind as hot, angry tears spill. My ophid thrums.

“I…I do not know what to do,” I say, and my voice breaks.

Aunt Meena sits quietly with me until the tears dry, her arm around my shoulders. She smells of books and spiced tea. I inhale deeply, finding comfort in the familiarity.

“You will keep studying,” she says when my breathing slows again. “You are far too smart to stay here with your rock of a father weighing you down. And…” She trails off but the unspoken words hang in the air, dangling like a noose. Mossgarde is a village that eats women. Without a job or resources, acceptance into a House of Learning far away is my only means of escape.

Frostalm is known as the Roaming City, a beacon of ingenuity and riches, a civilisation built on the largest ship in the realm. Sirens do not take kindly to the implication the ship is enchanted – it is their greatest feat of engineering, in fact. Frostalm traverses the Three Great Oceans and only truly docks once every five years, at Saltrock Bay. Otherwise, visitors and traders must wait for them to arrive near one of the larger ports and ride a small boat out. If I impress during my exams, they will pay for my travel, my boat, and even house me in the student’s quarters.

“But…the fee. They will not accept me, no matter my score, if I cannot pay the entrance fee.”

“Fret not.” Aunt Meena smiles and tilts my chin up with one finger. “The Bazaar is in a few days and the merchants are due to arrive before then. I am sure I have some valuable texts around here.”

“Your books?” I blink at her. “You cannot part with those!”

“I certainly can. Now dry your tears and let us continue with your studies.” Aunt Meena’s eyes have that familiar steel in them. “Or will you succumb to pity?”

I sniff and take a deep, ragged breath.

“What…” I feel another sob coming and falter, inhaling a fortifying breath. “What are we looking at today?”

Aunt Meena smiles at me and gives my shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

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