Larnasia's Queen

By GR Taylor

It's not easy being Queen...

Having returned to the Realm of Larnasia to take her place as the rightful heir, Alivia Farican quickly learns that all is not fair in love and war, especially where the crown is concerned. Her disgraced father still seeks to control the royal line and put her brother on the throne in her stead and the friendships she formed while living as serving girl Evie begin to crack as the truth about her identity begins to sink in.

Forced to forge new alliances, some good and some bad, Alivia must find a way to free her imprisoned friends while adjusting to a new way of life, the life of a royal that was denied to her as a child.

As she struggles to build a relationship with her brother and fights to save the life of her protector and father figure, Alivia realises that the life of a queen is not an easy one and one she may need to lead alone.

Join Alivia on the next chapter in her journey as she struggles to embrace all that it means to be Larnasia's Queen.

Larnasia's Queen is the second novel in the YA fantasy trilogy, The Realm of Larnasia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexa Preece
• Release date: Aug 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463835869

Book preview

Chapter One

Cold rain lashed down on the castle walls, making the windowpanes rattle against their iron frames. She sat in her room in her mother’s wing, curled up in the window seat as she stared out over the grey blurs that made up her courtyard and the faint lights beyond it that made up the city she would soon be able to rule. Alivia Farican didn’t react when lightning split the skies, or the thunder rumbled ominously above. She didn’t react to much anymore, much to the concern of her mother and brother.

Alivia, her brother, Prince Tarik, stood on the threshold to her room, having entered when his three attempts at knocking had produced no response. Father is waiting for us in the dining hall. He has summoned you four times already.

Alivia didn’t turn away from the window, her forehead pressed against the cool glass. I’m not coming. I refuse to eat at the same table as him.

He’s your father. Tarik frowned at her, his disapproval evident. You shouldn’t speak that way about him.

Why not? His sister’s voice was calm, cold. He thought that maybe he would prefer the anger he had seen her show against their father in the days before her self-imposed confinement in her room. He tried to have me killed, Tarik. So that you could claim the throne and rule in his image.

If I were to claim the throne, I would rule in no one’s image but my own. He felt his shoulders stiffen and his voice went hard. Although he couldn’t deny his father had tried, many times, to influence his way of thinking, he liked to cling to the belief that he was an independent soul, free of his father’s control. Whether or not it was true, Tarik didn’t know. Just as he would never know what kind of ruler he would have made as long as Alivia still lived and stood between him and the throne he thought he didn’t want. How can you be so sure, Alivia? How can you trust Count Lucas so whole-heartedly and hate our Father so? Surely it makes more sense that you are under a spell…

A spell no one can detect but him? It’s convenient, isn’t it? She turned away from the window and looked at him but didn’t really see him. Her blue eyes were lost, mournful. Galen raised me, Tarik. He loved me. All I remember of our father is that he hated me, ever since I was born a daughter instead of the son he longed for. I remember Mama holding me, telling me she wouldn’t let him hurt me. Why would she say that if I had nothing to fear from him? Why would she help Galen take me away from here if she didn’t believe I was in danger?

Tarik couldn’t answer her. He couldn’t explain his mother’s behaviour any better than the woman herself could. As far as he could remember, his mother, the Queen-Consort Lilianna Farican, had always been a little distant. Her eyes never seemed to focus, she murmured words that didn’t make sense and spoke to people who no one else could see.

He remembered as a child, watching her flit around her formal greeting room, muttering to herself about talking to the Lady, whoever she was. On the few rare occasions her eyes would clear, and she would make sense, Lilianna had cast suspicious glances at his father, makeup excuses to keep the two of them apart and show signs of being paranoid by whispering to him that it wasn’t too late and he could still escape.

Those episodes would result in his father calling on Baron Fariad Rotacis or Count Kasif Furis, two members of his father’s advisory council, both skilled in the art of potions and spells. One or both of them would arrive in the castle shortly after, carrying a vial of purple liquid that his father would then pour into one his mother’s favourite tea cups, the ones made of delicate white china with yellow daisies hand painted around the rim in a chain. His mother would drink it, after some protest, and then she would retire to her private room, only to return to his father’s side a few hours later, the same confused look back in her eyes.

Witchcraft, he wondered now, or was his father telling the truth when he said she was ill and that the potion helped fight the illness that invaded her mind?

I wish to visit my friends, Alivia announced, jolting him back to the present and away from his doubts and darker thoughts. Galen, Kaden, Nissa, Kira… and Jero. I want to see them all, and make sure they’re all okay.

Father assured me they are well treated, he began, stopping himself when she snorted her disbelief at the statement. He gritted his teeth, reminded himself that she was his elder, his future queen, and nodded, giving her a stiff bow. I’ll see what I can arrange.

No. Her voice startled him, and he looked up to see her stand, the heavy blue velvet robes she wore falling around her, the hems resting on the floor covering her bare feet. He’ll never agree to it if we ask, she said decisively. I’ll need to do it without him knowing. She squared her shoulders as if preparing for battle and gave him the half-hopeful, half-suspicious look he was growing used to seeing on her face when she looked at him. Can you create a diversion, Tarik? Tonight, at dinner? Distract him, keep him occupied? I can excuse myself early and make my way down to the dungeons without him knowing about it.

Tarik narrowed his eyes again, running the plan through his mind. There are spells cast around the dungeon doors. Alarms that will let Father know you are trespassing without permission.

She waved his concerns away dismissively. Let me worry about those. All you need to do is keep him busy for a few hours. Please, Tarik. For me.

The look in her eyes was so hopeful, so pleading, that he found he couldn’t say no. It helped that he didn’t agree with his father’s plan to keep the others locked up – Galen Lucas, yes, but the others were innocent. They believed the same lies Alivia believed; the same story Count Lucas had spun them. His sister wasn’t locked up in the dungeons so why should they be? Though he admitted to himself, Alivia did seem to be suffering an equal punishment as she tortured herself with guilt.

I’ll do my best, he promised, nodding slowly. But be careful, Alivia. You don’t want to do anything that will change his mind about crowning you at week’s end.

Alivia smiled grimly; the thought her only salvation. She had high hopes for that day, the day she finally became queen. If she could continue refusing to testify against Galen in the trial she had insisted her father give him until she was crowned Queen, she might stand a chance at being able to free her friends and make the truth known. Until then, however, the days passed by at an impossibly slow pace, the nights crawling by at an even worse speed.

Let’s go now before our absence annoys him further. Tarik offered her his arm, satisfied when Alivia took it.

He glanced at their reflection in the full-length mirror, seeing instantly that they were siblings although their colouring was almost the exact opposite. She was fair and golden-haired, he was dark skinned and dark haired, but they had the same features, the same noses, and the same mouths. He had always wondered what his elder sister would have looked like and now he knew. Now he had the sister he had thought long lost and wasn’t sure if he was entirely pleased to have the hole in his life filled in so neatly.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to be alive; he did. It was just unexpected. Alivia had only been home for two days, and it would take him a lot longer than that to get used to the thought of her being alive and well within arm's reach. His world had been turned upside down, his purpose in life vanishing when it sank in that there was no place for him on the throne.

One day he would get used to it, one day he would be able to see past the what ifs and maybes. One day, he would look back at his life and sigh with relief, thankful to have escaped the burdens his sister had to learn to carry.

#

The days of his reign were at an end, but King Sardimon had no intention of going out with a whimper. His plan to have his son replace him had been thwarted, but there were other ways he could ensure that Larnasia was ruled the way he wanted, there were other ways he could influence the way his city was led.

He drained the last dregs of his mead and slammed the silver tankard down on the table, indicating to the servant witch that he wanted more. He watched Lilianna out of the corner of his eye, hiding a grin when she jumped at the noise then went back to staring blankly at the plate of food in front of it. It was a waste of his lovely wife’s body to see her fritter away so much but the spells he’d cast, the potions he had made her drink over the years had taken the toll on her mind and her spirit as well as her physical form. He only needed her to survive for a few days more and then he would see to it that she was released from her torment, her soul set free. His reasons for wanting her so badly would be non-existent once Galen Lucas burned for his sins.

We’re sorry to be so late, Father, his son, the should-be King, announced as he walked into the room, his arm linked with that of his sister’s.

They made a handsome pair, Sardimon decided, in matching robes of dark blue velvet. He had reason to be proud of his children, for their pleasing appearance if nothing else.

You are here now, Sardimon greeted them with a forced smile, his eyes cool as his gaze flittered over his daughter’s haughty form. He had to keep reminding himself to be polite in her presence, to keep from letting his true dislike of her show. She would be Larnasia’s Queen, if only for a short time, and he needed to do what he could to keep her onside. Please, my children, be seated.

Tarik led Alivia to her seat at the far end of the table opposite Sardimon, pulling her chair out for her. He waited until she was seated before taking the seat on her left, sitting opposite his mother and between his sister and father. This looks wonderful, he praised when no one attempted to fill in the silence. He nodded to the servant who filled his tankard with mead, her hand shaking so much that she spilt some on the table. Please pass my compliments to the cook.

Y-Yes, Your Highness. Of course. She curtseyed not once, but twice before heading to Alivia’s side. Can I pour you some wine, Your Highness? She asked, referring to the second jug on her over-heavy tray.

Alivia looked up at the timid girl and smiled warmly, shaking her head. No, thank you. Could you please fetch me a glass of water? She eyed the glass that was already sitting before her at the table warily. A fresh glass, please. With no ice.

She wasn’t taking any risks, Sardimon noticed. Irritation vied with a tiny sliver of pride and won. It was a shame she was a female; he thought not for the first time. A shame she was so weak and feeble like all women were.

The servant girl rushed off to do her bidding, leaving the four family members alone. Lord Aron Dante had taken his leave that afternoon, on Alivia’s insistence that he needed to return to his city of Breenal and spread the news that the Princess of the Realm had returned. She had asked him to send word to Lady Naida, Sardimon knew, to thank her for her assistance and update her on the situation. It was then he realised that his daughter had allies, allies who would question her death should a misfortunate accident befall her again.

I hope Lord Dante made it to Breenal before the rain struck, Tarik commented after taking a sip from his tankard. He glanced between his parents and his sister, hoping one of them would chime in and help keep the conversation going. He didn’t know if he could stand another evening of watching his sister glower at his father while his mother shrank back in her chair and tried to pretend she wasn’t there.

I offered him the use of our carriage, Sardimon responded evenly, casting his son a small smile before his attention wandered back to his daughter at the head of the table. He refused.

He was probably concerned it wouldn’t be roadworthy, Alivia added smartly, glancing up to meet her father’s gaze boldly. It would have been most unfortunate for him to be stranded at the side of the road between our cities. It isn’t safe for anyone to be travelling there at night.

He had several guards with him, Tarik interrupted before his father could comment. He brought his best with him.

Sardimon nodded his agreement, his hand tightening around his tankard at the insinuation. I also offered to send Lady Naida’s guards back with him, but he insisted that they stay.

A slight smile appeared briefly on Alivia’s face as she thought of the four guards settling into their rooms in the wing of the castle put aside for their staff. They are nothing but loyal to their Lady, and to me, she admitted. Lady Naida sent them to protect and serve me. They will not leave until they believe their job is done.

And when will that be, Alivia? Sardimon set his tankard down heavily, his jaw clenched. When will you believe the truth that you are safe here? That no one seeks to do you harm?

When I am Queen, and my friends are free, she answered softly, lifting her head. When they are all free and found innocent of the crimes you accuse them of.

The sooner you allow us to begin their trials, the sooner that day will come. Sardimon shot back, tilting his head to the side. Why do you delay it unnecessarily? I’m sure Lord and Lady Pax are desperate to have their children and housekeeper return to them.

Alivia’s eyes hardened. Lord Pax and Lady Pax have yet to learn of their children’s fate. I assure you, Father, that when they do, they will both insist that their children and their housekeeper speak nothing but the truth. The trial is delayed because they, too, are required as witnesses. When they respond to the courier I sent, when Lady Naida responds, then and only then can the trial begin.

Do you think you will be able to prove your friend’s innocence better as Queen than you can as a Princess? Laughter rumbled beneath the surface of her father’s voice like the thunder that rumbled above their home. You know as well as I that a trial of this nature will not be judged by the monarch of the realm, Alivia. If you are clinging to the hope that you will be able to proclaim them innocent because you are Queen, you are mistaken to do so. The people of Larnasia shall be the judge of their innocence. Nothing you do can influence that.

Perhaps not. Alivia let a shoulder rise and fall. But they deserve a fair trial, and that is what I want to ensure they have. A trial where all who need to be present as witnesses are available. Why are you so eager for the trial to take place now, Father? Do you believe the people of the realm still fear you enough to rule in your favour?

I am not on trial, child. What the people of the realm decide will have no bearing on me.

Father and daughter stared at one another, neither willing to back down. Tarik sighed and stared down at his plate, his appetite gone. His mother giggled suddenly, shattering the awkward silence. He looked up, startled, and Lilianna smiled at him before she began to hum a lullaby he knew she had sung to him and Alivia as children, digging into her food with gusto.

Mama, are you well? Alivia was up and out of her chair in an instant, kneeling beside their mother in concern.

I’m fine, Lilianna giggled around a mouthful of food. Her eyes shone, and her voice sounded childlike. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? Can we go for a walk after dinner? Or maybe a horse ride?

Alivia sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. Tarik felt his own heart constrict in sympathy. Their mother was gone again, lost to the madness inflicted by grief. Surely if she had known about the plot as Count Lucas claimed, she would have retained her sanity instead of losing her mind to anguish?

It’s raining, Mama, his sister told their mother gently, her face pressed against the satin covered shoulder that was more bone than flesh. We can’t go out to walk today.

Lilianna pouted and set her fork down on her plate, pushing it away in apparent disgust. But I want to go for a walk, she persisted, her bottom lip trembling. It’s such a lovely day.

It’s night time, Mama. The moon is out, but you can’t see it passed the stars. Alivia lifted her head and tilted her face back, gazing into her mother’s luminous blue eyes, so much like her own but so different. Maybe tomorrow you and I can take a walk through the city. Tarik could join us, she added, giving her brother a pleading look. Wouldn’t that be nice?

It would, Tarik agreed, his hand clenched around his tankard. If the weather turns, that is.

His mother giggled as though he’d said something funny. The weather doesn’t turn, silly boy. The realm turns. It turns, and it turns, and it turns, and it changes, and nothing ever stays the same. It’s a circle, you see. A big circle that no one can break. No one can break it. She reached out for Alivia’s hand, her fingers wrapping around it in a surprisingly strong voice. If the circle breaks, the realm will stop turning. You can’t let the circle break, Alivia. You can’t let the realm stop turning.

Tarik watched as Alivia reached up her spare hand to wipe at her cheek before she covered her mother’s hands with hers. I won’t let it stop, Mama. I promise. She cleared her throat and glanced up at him, her eyes shining. I’ll take Mama to her room, she said softly. Make sure she’s comfortable.

He nodded, risking a look at his father. Sardimon, he noticed, seemed uninterested in the ramblings of his wife, more so in the serving witch refilling his tankard for the third time that evening. Go, he told her, his meaning clear. I’ll see you in the morning.

Alivia nodded her thanks and eased their mother out of her chair. Sardimon watched them leave, almost grinning at the furious glance his eldest child shot him over her shoulder before she left the room but managed to keep it from showing on his face for Tarik’s benefit. Lilianna was proving to be a good distraction, he decided, still a waste but not as much of one as he had first thought.

Left alone with his son, Sardimon leaned back in his chair and studied his mirror image. Tarik took after him far more than he did his mother, with thick black hair and cool grey eyes that held only the smallest hint of blue. Chiselled features, a strong jaw, Tarik pleased him aesthetically. It was just his character that needed to bend a little further towards the darker, less pure things in life.

I am sorry, Sardimon began, watching his son’s gaze move towards him. I know how much you were looking forward to being my successor.

Tarik struggled to keep his face neutral and shrugged noncommittally. It is the way it is, Father. Neither you or I can change what the Goddess Rhyannon wishes.

Sardimon grunted, his lips twitching. The Goddess, he thought scornfully. The fictional woman both Alivia and his dear wife claimed to have seen and spoken to. If Rhyannon existed, if she was more than myth and legend, why had she allowed him to gain so much power? Why indeed had she allowed him to escape with his sins and punish those who had done nothing? The Goddess works in strange ways, my son, he said after a pause. We have to have faith in her decisions and follow the paths she chooses for us.

The paths he created, Sardimon corrected to himself. The paths he decided his children would follow. He hadn’t given up on Tarik ruling the realm, hadn’t decided to stand back and let Alivia ruin all of the things he’d worked so hard to preserve. It would take a little while longer for the pieces to fall into place but he was confident that his goals would be met in the end, that satisfaction would eventually be his.

#

Her mother’s private room wasn’t far from her own. Alivia preferred her mother’s wing of the castle and made a mental note to redecorate the entire building from dungeon to the highest steeple after her coronation, after she had put right her father’s wrongs. She stifled a sigh, trying not to let her mother’s humming and mutterings get to her as she led her up the spiral steps towards her room.

Where are we going? Lilianna wanted to know, dragging her feet when they reached the long hallway leading to her room, and Alivia’s. I’m not sleepy, she insisted, I don’t want to go to sleep now.

You don’t have to go to sleep, Mama, Alivia told her gently, easing her forward. She nearly sighed with relief when they reached the door to her mother’s room, pushing the door open with her spare hand before she returned it to her mother’s elbow. You have lots of books to read. Madam Carian sent you a new bundle yesterday.

Books, Lilianna repeated. I like books. Reading is good. I like to read.

I know you do, Mama, that’s why I sent her a note thanking her for her kindness. Alivia manoeuvred them over to her mother’s bed, sitting her mother down on it before moving to fetch her mother’s nightgown and robe. Lilianna began humming again and sat, as obedient as a child, as her daughter undressed her and then redressed her. She lifted her arms when she was told, stood when she asked, sat when Alivia motioned for her too.

Within twenty minutes, Lilianna was lying against several of the softest, fluffiest pillows in the realm; her long blonde hair spread over her shoulders as she held a book in her hands, her expression content. Alivia stood back and watched her for a few moments, her heart breaking at the sight of the mother she had longed for for so long, reduced to a glimmer of her former self.

I’m going to go now, Mama, it’s time for me to go to bed. She leaned in and pressed her lips against Lilianna’s forehead, pulling back to see her mother stare at her through knowing eyes. Sleep well.

There’s a ring in my dresser, Lilianna said out of the blue just as Alivia was about to turn and leave. It was given to me a long time ago, by someone I loved. It was in his family for a very long time, a very very long time. She blinked and stared unseeingly at her daughter. He isn’t well now. He’s weak and scared and dying alone. Could you give it to him? She asked innocently. I think it’s only right Galen should have his ring back. Her gaze fell to her hand, to the band of gold that marred her finger. I have another one now, she continued sadly. I can’t wear his anymore.

Confused, Alivia followed her mother’s instruction, opening the top drawer of her mother’s dresser. She rummaged through bits of paper with scribbles scrawled across them that meant no sense to anyone other than their author. Her fingers brushed against something metal just as she was about to give up and she wrapped her fingers around it, withdrawing her hand to see a once-brilliant sapphire ring, tarnished and dulled by dust and time, placed at the back of the drawer to be both quickly forgotten and always remember.

She stared at the ring resting against her palm until her eyes stung so much that she could no longer see it. Alivia closed her fingers over the ring, over the confirmation that yet another thing Galen Lucas had told her had been true. She thought of the sorcerer, of the man she loved like a father, wasting away in the dungeons of her castle, of her home. He was growing weaker, she knew. Being in Larnasia had helped extend his life, but it hadn’t saved it, it hadn’t cured him of the illness that plagued him, the reason they had returned to the city in the first place. Only a talisman, an item that was linked to his bloodline, or the return to his ancestral home would save him and the ring burning her hand might be enough.

Thank you, Mama, she whispered, but Lilianna didn’t respond. Her mother, she noticed sadly, was too caught up in the story she was reading, her mind absorbed in a tale of fiction that was so much more pleasant than the life she’d been given to live.

She slipped out of the room, unnoticed, locking the door behind her with a spell only she and Lilianna could pass through and determinedly made her way back along the route she had taken to her mother’s room. She hesitated at the door to the dining hall, satisfied when she heard both her father’s voice and her brother’s.

Taking a deep breath, she walked quickly and quietly towards the servant’s wing, knowing that there was a staircase there that led down, down into the dark, damp depths of the castle, down to where her friends were being kept locked away.

#

Only one thing kept him alive, and that was knowing that Alivia was alive somewhere, living in the space above his cell. He hadn’t failed in getting her to Larnasia safely; he hadn’t broken his promise to Lilianna.

Galen Lucas sat with his hands and legs shackled by rusty chains, his head against the damp wall of the cell. His body was growing weaker, but his spirit was stronger than ever. Until he received word that Alivia was dead, hope still reigned in his heart that Larnasia would eventually get the queen it deserved.

Galen? He smiled at the sound of her voice, closing his eyes against his imagination. It was still as sweet as ever, as young and innocent as pure. Then again, it was his hallucination talking, taking on her form. It wasn’t as though she was there. Papa?

Something clicked, and metal hinges groaned. Galen frowned, his eyes still closed. That was a new sound, an unfamiliar sound. Had one of his inmates been let go, he wondered, or were the guards just taunting them?

Soft hands pressed against his skin and he groaned, tipping his head back further. Cool fingers travelled over his fevered brow, and he sighed at the feeling of lips briefly against his forehead.

It wasn’t real. None of it was real. Unless maybe, maybe he was finally dead.

Oh, Papa, she moaned, her voice so close, so alive. "What have they done to you? He said you were all okay. He said you were being looked after."

The distress in her voice was new, and it was that that made Galen crack open an eyelid. He started with surprise at the sight of her so close, knocking his head off the wall and cursing when the pain spread through his body. He jerked his arms reflexively, wincing when the cuffs around his wrists bit into his skin and reminded him he couldn’t lift his hand to his head.

Alivia? He asked, too tired to reign in his hope. Is it you?

She smiled gently, though tears still rolled down her cheeks. It’s me, Papa. It’s me. She lifted her hands to his face again, framing his head as she gazed intently into his eyes. How do you feel? She asked quietly. Have they hurt you?

He shook his head, unable to speak. He stared at her, at the gold tiara that glinted in the dim light that reached his cell from the oil lamp in the hallway outside.

I can’t stay long, she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the smallest of sounds, a distant roar of thunder many miles away. I just wanted to see you, to tell you I haven’t given up and neither should you. I’m going to be crowned soon. I’m going to be Queen. I’m putting off your trial until then, Papa, in the hopes that the people won’t obey my father and rule in his favour out of fear of what he’ll do to them if they don’t. I’m so sorry, Papa. More tears fell, coating his fingertips as he lifted one hand to touch her cheek, testing she was kneeling before him. I’ll get you out of here soon; I promise I will. I need a few more days.

Galen smiled at her, a weak, ghost of a smile. He nodded and memorised the sight of her. Alivia. I knew you’d come. I knew you wouldn’t let him win.

Never, she vowed. She grasped his hand and prised open his fingers, pressing something into his palm with determination. This will help you, won’t it? She asked hopefully. It will help you grow strong again?

Galen barely managed to gather the strength to look down, his eyes widening at the sight of the object she placed in his hand.

His great-grandmother’s ring. Lilianna’s ring. The ring he had given to her to seal their pact that one day they would marry a long time ago.

The weight of it was familiar, and the mere sight of it brought tears to his eyes and lightened his heart. His blood hummed in response to the old magic within it, his waning power spiking to a high it hadn’t reached in months.

It will help, he managed to say. It will be enough.

Good. The relieved smile that crossed over her face was beautiful, reminding him of her mother, of the days he and Lilianna had played as children, chasing each other with careless abandon through the meadows surrounding the city. I have to go now, she murmured, her smile fading but the radiance in her eyes remained. I’ll send word to you as soon as I can. Stay strong, Papa, keep fighting. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. I love you.

I love you, too, he mumbled, watching as she jumped up and quickly moved towards the door.

She disappeared into the shadows, the door closing behind her with protesting creaks from its hinges. He slumped backwards as he was plunged into darkness, wondering if