Page 1 of Autumn Queens & Shadows

Thora

Age six

It had been a week since uncle had brought us to a sunny land. A full week since Eren had not stopped crying. His whole body had burned in the fire, but my big brother was not crying because of that pain, the healers had healed him soon after like they had healed my own burns. Mine didn’t hurt. But then mine had not been all that big—not like his. Every day, he sat at the edge of the wood house where he’d piled two separate hills of rocks. And he cried. He wouldn’t tell me why. He wouldn’t tell me where Snow was either. He cried harder when I said her name so I’d stopped asking.

Today he’d taken me with him to the rock piles and we’d sat beside one another for many minutes. He had not cried today. “Rora,” he said hoarsely. “Remember what I told you that once when you saw Lin…when you saw your sister and I at the courts with the…man who was bleeding.”

“The one who had died.”

His eyes drew shut for a minute. “Yes. Remember what I told you where he had gone?”

“Up in the skies. I know, I’m not silly. Papa taught me as well.”

A string of tears fell down his cheek. “That’s where Lin and ma are. Up…up in the skies.”

“Can’t we go as well?”

“Not yet, Rora,” he said, wincing as he pulled me onto his lap. “Not yet.”

Chapter one

Red Carnations

Thora

I had a cat once.

She was white as snow and just as evil and cold as winter. My arms were almost always covered in scratches. That was until Eren and Snow found it hidden in my clothing chambers where I’d made sure no one could see her.

“Your Majesty?”

They weren’t mad though. Snow and Eren took the cat, fed it and washed it for me. But uncle had found it one day, killed and skinned it, then left it on top of my bed for me to see.

“Your Majesty?”

I don’t even remember crying. It was just another thing that had happened to me as a consequence of who I was and what I looked like.

My resemblance to my mother had made me uncle’s target. We had the same eyes. The same hair. Snow had always hated her long hair, it got everywhere, she hated washing it, combing it, plaiting it, but she kept it nice and long, so our uncle’s hate was divided in two—so I wasn't his only target. She grew loud to attract attention, I grew silent so I wasn’t seen. She became defiant, I became docile. She held onto her anger, I forgot I had it altogether. She remembered every little scar, I pretended I’d never been injured in the first place. We weren’t two sides of the same coin, we were two different coins altogether. She was made entirely of steel. I was made of crumbling clay. Whoever tried to use me as currency had not gotten much in exchange.

A hand touched my shoulder and I almost jerked upright. It was Nissa, my servant with warm sea blue eyes and just as kind of a smile. “It is time, Thora. Do you want to have a look in the mirror?”

Besides the white veil, dress, gloves, and diamond crown I so rarely wore, there was nothing strange in the reflection before me. I didn’t feel strange either. Nor excited. Something was telling me that I should perhaps feel strange that this day felt just like another miserable sunny winter day, not the day I was about to marry the man I was betrothed to.

Ten years into my reign as an Isjordian Queen—that is how far I had made it until I was forced into choosing someone to sit beside me on the throne. A strong Isjordian Aura. Someone with good connections and an old family name just as powerful as mine. A politician who could survive my court. A businessman who could enrichen my treasury. Those had become the conditions for my affections. The very same conditions required to persuade my people against Iskyla Krigborn and her claim to my throne.

Erik was a good man. Good by most definitions that were approved by Isjordian standards. Educated. Rich. A strong lineage.

Just the thought that I needed all those meaningless titles to maintain a strong reign not threatened by men who do not desire to bow before women made me entirely too—

Another familiar hand landed on my shoulder and I breathed out a slow exhale, letting a cold mist roll for a long minute before turning to Kilian who was draped all in black as if I’d asked him to walk me to the God of Death, not my husband. “Ready?”

His smile was soft. “Are you?”

“Erik is a good man.” Not the slightest clue why I had to make that statement when he hid his judgement so well from everyone. Kil did not like Erik one bit.

“You do not love him,” he said matter-of-factly. “So let us not pretend this makes any sense at all beyond what it is.”

“I cannot love.” Not a clue why I told him that either. Not that I’d told it to anyone else before. But I suppose this was the last moment I could say it truthfully.