The False Queen – Exclusive look at Chapter One!
I SPUN ON MY HEELS, green skirt billowing behind me as I danced around a patch of flat earth between the tall firs of the Iron Woods. My opponent lunged, her sharp sword slicing through the air with vigour, forcing me to block quickly. Arm quivering with impact, I gritted my teeth against the urge to drop my blade.
Drop it and you’re dead.
Agnes the Wicked, most powerful witch on the continent, wouldn’t hesitate. Her strikes were too powerful. Too sure. It wouldn’t matter that I was her daughter. If I fail, it would be because I was not good enough to survive, and that would be my own fault.
‘You’re not concentrating,’ Agnes scolded as she spun away.
I almost sighed with the relief on my tired limbs. We’d been at this for hours. We were always at this for hours. I had been perfecting this dance of weapons since I was twelve years old. I had mastered the art, but I would never be as ruthless, as quick, or as brutal as my mother because, unlike her, I was human.
Trained to be a weapon, an assassin, a tool in a power struggle with humans, I’d always questioned why I was born different from the rest of my coven. I’d soon become tired of asking questions no one could answer, and tried to accept that my fate was never to possess magic. Instead, I would be the human spy for my mother, to be deployed when needed in order to bring about a time where witches could be free. Free to live amongst humans as they once did – until the humans had gotten greedy and tried to assert their dominance over the witches in the Cursed Wars. After that, the humans became too populous to be overrun, forcing witches into hiding.
I barely had time to breathe before Agnes was on the attack again. Our swords clanged together in a scream of metal on metal, and I bounced out of her way, panting as she circled me.
‘Your mind is elsewhere, Blaise. If you do not concentrate on the battle in front of you, you will die.’ She followed my gaze as I glanced sideways to where my sisters trained, sparks flying around their half of the training field. Bright and bullish, magic erupted from Marbella’s hands towards Ophelia’s chest. The latter dove to the floor just in time, muddying her skirts but avoiding serious injury.
‘You must learn to defend, Ophelia,’ Gaia, my mother’s general, scolded as Marbella cast another spell. This one hit Ophelia before she could dart out of the way. She let out a winded moan as she rolled sideways. Marbella’s victorious smirk made the hairs on my arms stand to attention, reacting to the danger that lurked in that predatory smile.
‘The time for envying your sisters has passed,’ Agnes’s words cut through my thoughts, drawing my attention back to her. ‘We have trained long and hard to make you a weapon in your own right. Magic or not. You will not be powerless without it. I will not allow it.’ She sprang at me. My blade bounced off her padded corset before she elbowed me back, lifting her knee, once, twice to my stomach, winding me. I fell backwards and she caught me before I could land on the hardening autumn floor.
‘There’s no magic that runs through my veins,’ I hissed between deep gulps of air, resentment stinging almost as much as the rattle in my lungs. No matter how much I trained, I would never be able to match Agnes for pace. Her limbs were longer than mine, her stamina seemingly infinite. Dropping my sword, I hurled a throwing dagger at Agnes’s head. She merely swept it aside with a spell and leapt away, the sharp metal sticking in a tree behind her.
‘You do not know what the Mother has in store for you,’ she offered, before I could protest at her cheating. ‘That is why you have days to study the theory of magic. But today is not one of them. Today you concentrate on your own lesson.’ A lesson my sisters would never need to learn because they would always have magic to use in battle.
It would have been one thing for the Mother – the first witch turned goddess, responsible for gifting magic to all enchantresses – to never bestow her magic onto me, but she had also given me no distinguishable traits of beauty that witches beheld, making it clear that I was human from the moment I was born. Something, as far as I had been told, had never happened before.
There was no hiding how I stood out amongst the witches of the Sunseeker coven and, whilst they would never harm me, or face my mother’s wrath, they didn’t welcome me either. I hadn’t even so much as inherited the extra knuckle all witches possessed, making their hands graceful and long, perfect for conducting spells. Nor my mother’s golden hair. I was born plain. My hair a dull and lifeless brown, eyes a simple hazel, versus my sisters, who inherited Agnes’s golden locks and her magic. It wasn’t fair. It also wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation.
‘Daughter mine,’ Agnes began, letting her sword hang by her side, ‘there is always a chance you will come into magic. It is not long until your nineteenth birthday. Perhaps you will get to perform the Rite, after all.’ I blanched at her words. The Rite was a coming-of-age celebration when a witch came into her full powers, and said witch was required to make a sacrifice.
A human sacrifice.
The ceremony demanded that the witch drank the blood of a human. Though some acquired a taste for it, human blood was not a necessary part of a witch’s daily diet. As a human, the thought of having to perform the Rite myself made a cold sweat run down my spine.
But I would have done it, if it would give me the powers my sisters were about to inherit. Knowing it wouldn’t had once made me sob for days as a small child. Agnes had finally sat me down to explain what I had already begun to piece together about how different I was. I’d always known how unlike everyone else I looked, how I couldn’t do the things they could. I’d felt both fear, and a quiet sense of understanding, when she’d explained how I was the very thing that I had already been taught to hate from such a young age.
Human.
After that, when my sisters went off into the woods to learn basic spells each day, I begged Agnes to let me train in something else. Finally, when I was big enough to hold one, she pressed a sword into my hand and promised, when the time came, that I would be by her side as we restored the witches’ rightful place in the world.
The older I got, the more noticeable my differences became, and I began to wonder what it would have been like to grow up with my own kind. It was often difficult to remember to hate humans when I saw one in the mirror each day.
Tonight, my sisters would go through their Rite, and I would be forced to watch as my own kind was slaughtered in front of me. You’re ready for this. One day you will also slaughter humans, I reminded myself. I glanced their way again, watching as Ophelia finally managed to block Marbella’s spell with one of her own.
The Rite was also when a witch’s aging process would slow down. It would be another century before Marbella and Ophelia began to visibly age once more. I tried not to let my obvious envy show on my face.
‘You better hope I don’t,’ I finally quipped, responding to Agnes’s pondering about my own powers, or lack thereof. Retrieving my dropped sword, I attacked again. ‘That would ruin your plans entirely.’
The whole reason Agnes bothered to train me at all – and hadn’t abandoned me at birth when she realised what I was – was because of her plan to use my humanity to her advantage. She was only waiting for me to come of age before she sent me off to a faraway kingdom to bring her plan to life.
Agnes grunted in acknowledgement, and defended against my quick assaults with minimal effort, barely even looking at me. My frustration turned into a growl, and I lunged too quickly, tripping on my skirts as I fell forwards. Agnes lifted her sword out of the way before I impaled myself on it. She extended a hand to help me to my feet. Brushing her off, I pushed off the ground, using the force to lunge into what should have been a fierce blow.
I met nothing but air, my mother’s apparition disappearing as I rammed my sword through it. Nothing but an illusion. I whirled on her, furious. Her throaty laugh made my spine stiffen.
‘Very good, sweet daughter. You almost had me there.’
‘You cheated,’ I panted.
‘You’re right. I have relied on magic for too long,’ she smirked, no more breathless than if she had been sitting all afternoon. ‘That’s enough, for today, daughter mine. We are needed elsewhere. We must begin preparations for this afternoon.’
For me, preparing for the Rite meant helping my sisters bathe and dress, a task none of us were overjoyed with.
‘Ouch! Be careful!’ Marbella hissed. I had tugged too tightly on her soft, golden hair as I braided it.
‘Sorry,’ I muttered, picking up more berries to intertwine in the braid that I was looping across the top of her head to form a natural crown.
‘You’re not doing it right!’ she whined. ‘Get Sapphire, she does it better!’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Sapphire is busy. You’ll have to make do.’
My mother’s second hadn’t yet returned from a scouting mission in the skies, where she’d been looking for threats from humans getting too close to the coven. She had left the night before last, and it was unusual for scouting to take so long. My stomach dived at the thought of anything happening to her. Sapphire would never miss my sisters’ Rite if she could help it.
‘Make do? Make do?’ Marbella’s voice rose an octave. ‘This is the most important day of my life! Start over.’ I let her golden curls fall from my hand, watching with envy as they bounced around her face and shone in the light.
Witches have only three hair colours: resplendent golds, moon-kissed silvers, or glowing whites. They also have three common eye colours: black as dark as coal, shining quicksilver, and a violet so bright, it is said the night sky itself was jealous. My own eyes were a colour so uninteresting, nobody bothered to describe it at all. Second to the lack of magic, lacking the ethereal beauty was what really made me stand out from the coven.
‘Now, do it properly!’ Marbella huffed, inspecting her nails. I picked up her beautiful strands of hair and tugged a little tighter than strictly necessary as I began again.
Two hours later, both Marbella and Ophelia’s hair was braided to their standards. Their makeup was striking, and the white dresses they wore looked otherworldly against their impeccable skin.
‘You both look beautiful!’ I gasped, squeezing their hands. They must have been nervous, because they allowed the touch and did not push me away. Ophelia even held on a little longer, her palm slick with sweat.
‘You know what you need to do, girls?’ Gaia asked, and the pair of them nodded.
‘Your chosen sacrifices were brought in moments ago. Your mother awaits you on stage.’ I felt the colour drain from my face, and Ophelia’s gaze lingered on me at the mention of the sacrifices as she worried her lip between her teeth.
Gaia walked to each of them, pressing gentle kisses to their foreheads. ‘Good luck. When we next speak, you will have power flowing through your veins. Witchlings no more.’ Then, she ushered me out of the tent with her.
The whole coven had gathered in a large clearing between trees, and my knees clacked together as I shivered – not from the cool afternoon air, but through fear. I looked out over a sea of beautiful witches, young witchlings, and old crones, who eagerly awaited the sacrifice, and I wondered how many of them wished it were me.
The Iron Woods we called home, were full of dense forestation, and home to all manner of creatures – Ophelia had sworn she’d seen a gnome once. Every few miles, there was a break in the trees, opening to delicate meadows that blossomed beautifully in the spring. It was in these clearings that we pitched the tents we slept in, celebrated every occasion, and trained. It was where we gathered now, for the Rite.
Agnes stood before the block where the sacrifices would be made, making a speech that I could not hear through the buzzing in my ears. It was stupid to feel this way. I owed the humans no loyalty. Just because I was one, didn’t mean I didn’t want them punished for what they did to witches. Hell, I had been trained to butcher them! But something about the sacrifices in the Rite felt different to coming up against a human in battle. Not that I’d ever done that, either.
When my sisters stepped onto the stage, the crowd gasped at their beauty. Marbella held her head high and confident. She would go first, being the first born. Ophelia looked less sure as she hesitated a few steps behind.
‘Bring the sacrifices!’ Agnes bellowed, and the crowd cheered as the two human men were hauled onto the stage. They were both naked, their hands bound behind their backs with rope, a hessian sack over each of their heads. I swallowed hard as the sacks were removed, and the men stared out at the gathering of witches, pure terror in their eyes, sweat pouring from their temples. One man caught sight of Marbella and snarled.
‘You witch!’ he cried. ‘You betrayed me.’
The crowd hissed and jeered at the man as Marbella circled him, a predator’s gleam in her eyes. When she spat at the man’s feet, the crowd laughed and applauded her.
How many times had she wanted to spit at me?
‘Ophelia, is that you? Who are these people? Help me, please!’ the other man begged. The crowd laughed once more at the pitiful words, at the snot that leaked from the man’s nose, at the sobs that heaved through his body. Ophelia said nothing.
‘Let the sacrifice begin!’ Agnes boomed, and the crowd erupted.
Marbella’s sacrifice was hauled to the wooden block, which was discoloured from all the blood that had seeped into it over the years. The man dug his heels in and fought against the two witches pushing his head towards the cool surface. In the end, there was nothing he could do as his head met the wood, and Marbella was handed a sharp dagger.
Agnes’s eyes shone with pride as she recited an incantation I would never need to learn, and Marbella slit the man’s throat in one smooth movement. My nails left crescent moons in my palms as I squeezed my hands into fists, trying to distract myself from the barbaric sacrifice that was supposed to please the Mother. The drinking of the blood, which started as purely ceremonial, was now believed by many to make a witch’s new powers more potent. Either way, it made my skin crawl.
You hate them, too. I reminded myself, though I could barely watch as the blood pooled on the wood, before running down the specially-designed block and into the vial Marbella now held at its base.
Gaia’s steadying hand found my back as my knees wobbled, and the crowd cheered as Marbella lifted the vial to her mouth, knocking back the man’s blood. Killed for that tiny amount? It didn’t seem worth it, to me.
‘He beat his wife and children,’ Gaia whispered into my ear. ‘Marbella bewitched his wife and left her a small sum of gold to cover his disappearance. She will believe he died in an accident.’ My mouth hung open, but it quickly turned to a wince as Marbella grinned, the man’s blood staining her teeth red. The witches whooped and cheered.
Agnes began another spell, and Marbella’s eyes closed. Silver light began to shine all around her as the Mother, goddess of magic both divine and dark, gifted Marbella her full powers. A proper witch at last. When the silver light faded, my sister looked more beautiful than ever, skin glowing with the power that now ran through her.
Agnes took Marbella’s hand and led her to a silver throne fixed to the stage. My sister waved out to the crowd before taking a seat. The witches around me curtsied as one, and Gaia shoved my shoulder down, forcing me into a curtsy of my own.
I could barely breathe as the next man was hauled forwards, sobbing and crying out for Ophelia to spare him. Agnes began her incantations again and Ophelia was handed her own blade. I closed my eyes this time as the man’s cries were cut off, turning to gurgles as Ophelia sliced his throat. The dripping of his blood echoed in my head.
‘That one murdered his elder brother so he could inherit the family fortune,’ Gaia whispered, and my eyes shot open again in time to see Ophelia drain the vial of blood she had collected.
‘Why are you telling me this?’ I whispered back.
‘Your sisters deliberately looked for humans who had done wrong. They did not want to murder just any man.’ Murder, not sacrifice. ‘They made sure the man they chose would deserve it.’
I breathed in deeply as it was Ophelia’s turn to shine and glow. It was not a requirement of the sacrifice for the men to deserve their fate. In fact, most of the witches chose men they admired, believing the Mother would appreciate the sacrifice more and grant them extra powers. Sometimes, they chose men they wished to bed before they were killed. My sisters hadn’t given that a thought, instead choosing men who had done evil. A small part of me hoped it was because of their human sister that they did not simply revel in spilling human blood.
As if she heard the thought, Ophelia, still glowing, looked to me and nodded, before allowing Agnes to lead her to the throne beside Marbella. This time, when the witches curtsied, I mustered up the strength to dip low with them.
‘Today, as the sun shines down on us, we have seen two beautiful witches earn their power. And my own two daughters, no less!’ Agnes shouted across the crowd. ‘We are blessed by the Mother!’
The witches whooped and cheered; the forest alive with noise. But even that didn’t drown out the sound of brooms crashing to the ground in the clearing beside us. Sapphire and her scouting unit had returned, stricken looks on their faces. Agnes moved towards Sapphire with purpose.
‘What news, sister?’ Sapphire shook her head, as though she was unable to talk. ‘Come.’ My mother took Sapphire’s elbow and led her from the crowd, Gaia and my sisters following immediately. I fell into step behind them, unsure of my place.
One by one, we pushed back the heavy flaps of the war tent and filed in, taking places around a long table used mainly for war strategy. It hadn’t seen much action in my lifetime, but certainly in Agnes’s. My mother was just a witchling in the Witch Wars – when covens tore each other apart for power – but she had fought shoulder-to-shoulder with those same covens when the first battles amongst humans and witches were fought. Agnes didn’t look a day over thirty, but she had centuries of history. Whilst witches didn’t have the immortality of other fae folk like the elves, they outlived humans tenfold, and held a grudge for eternity.
Beside me, Marbella and Ophelia stood together, arms linked. Truly identical, they still glowed with untapped power. For an outsider, the only way to tell them apart from looks alone was by the colour of their eyes – Ophelia’s violet iris compared to Marbella’s stony black. Their golden hair was of equal length, each with gorgeous curls that caressed their backsides and framed their impeccable faces. But I could tell them apart by each minute difference in their face. Marbella’s had a hard edge, compared to the softer set of Ophelia’s jaw. Phe had a clever gaze, Marbella a cold one.
Opposite me, Gaia looked wary. The most battle-hardened amongst us – having fought in the Witch Wars three centuries ago, and an experienced soldier by the Cursed Wars – Gaia’s youth had long left her. That wasn’t to say she wasn’t still beautiful. Though wrinkles adorned her dark face and hands, her quicksilver eyes shone bright with life and wisdom, and her face was kind and welcoming, despite the battles she’d seen.
Beside my mother stood Sapphire, who was younger than Gaia, but had around fifty years on my mother. A grim look on her youthful face. Her beautiful silver hair was tied back, her pointed ears peeking through the windswept strands that stuck out.
‘What did the skies reveal, Sapphire?’ my mother pressed. I held my breath, having never seen Sapphire look so forlorn, almost frightened.
‘Our sisters in the Moonkeeper coven were attacked,’ Sapphire finally spoke, her tone caught somewhere between bereft and venomous.
Four covens were spread throughout the continent of Esiks, and whilst the covens kept to themselves, they were sisters, all children of the Mother. To the west, in the kingdom of Harensarra were the Starchasers, and furthest away, due north, in the kingdom of the Vale, were the Stormbreakers. The Moonkeepers were our closest neighbours and were also located in the kingdom of Starterra like us, the Sunseekers.
Sapphire didn’t need to explain who had attacked the Moonkeepers. There was only one kind that would hunt and murder witches. An inexplicable guilt churned in my gut.
‘How did they find them?’ I barely whispered, unsure if I’d even spoken aloud. Unlike our coven, which was hidden from outsiders by a powerful glamour, the Moonkeeper coven lived atop the tallest mountain in Starterra, which should have been protection enough.
‘They were betrayed!’ Sapphire hissed. ‘One of their own misplaced her affections with a human, and an army of Reili’s finest waltzed right in, led by their bastard general no doubt.’ She held out a piece of royal-blue and gold material, and it took me a moment to realise it was a crest – Reili’s emblem of a rising phoenix surrounded by the sun.
Past Harensarra, so far west you almost fell off the continent, lay Reili. A kingdom famed for its many wars with Starterra, Reili had eradicated any covens that once called it home. The queen’s adopted son was the youngest general in Reili’s history and had a hand in forcing the witches out of their kingdom. My mother had told me stories about his famous witch hunts. My blood boiled inside my quickening heart at the thought of such a threat descending on the Moonkeeper coven.
‘Did any escape?’ Ophelia’s lip quivered.
‘They burned them all while they slept!’ Sapphire choked on a sob. ‘Not even the witchlings were spared.’
Tears pricked at my eyes. A whole coven gone. Just like that.
‘I will not stand by and let this go unpunished!’ Agnes slammed a pale fist on the table, making me jump. Her silver eyes gleamed with wicked intent as they landed on me.
I knew what was coming before her mouth opened again, and my heart beat so fast it hurt. Truthfully, I’d known it the moment Sapphire had explained what had become of the Moonkeepers.
It was time for me to play my role in this war.
Fear speared through me as Agnes said, ‘Blaise, your time has come. You must go to the kingdom of Reili to join Queen Lizabeta’s court. There, you will become my spy. You will help us to infiltrate the kingdom and get revenge for our fallen sisters. This will be your sacrifice, Blaise. This will be your Rite.’
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