The Bone Below

By Sylwia Koziel

"Throne of Glass meets Bridgerton in this Princess and the Pea fairytale retelling!"

Each time Nelka leaves her cottage she seems to bump into the same unnamed stranger who teases her relentlessly and ignites feelings she isn't prepared for. When her sister becomes ill, Nelka leaves the safety of her village to

• Language: English
• Publisher: Conquest Publishing
• Release date: Apr 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9781962739054

Book preview

Chapter 1

Now

Her sodden dress left a trail of mud behind as her shoes squeaked against the once pristine floor. She worried with each step she would slip on the white marble floors.

As if on cue, Nelka’s face reddened at the mess behind her. In her head, she could hear Mother yelling how she was worse than a pig. Under usual circumstances, her embarrassment would have her rushing to clean it up. Fear was a much stronger force though, and as Nelka tried to keep her pace steady, it overwhelmed her. Her limbs were no longer her own but separate, with a mind of their own. Nelka knew what awaited her could not be good. She knew these could be some of her last moments; she might never experience the sun on her face again, the brisk wind brushing against her cheeks. Yet, her feet kept moving because she could never say no.

She almost collided with the ground when her captor shoved her forward. She grunted as she kept her balance.

Don’t fall again, he mocked, his voice unapologetic.

Moments before she had tripped up the stairs outside as the rain poured. She felt like a piece of cattle when her struggle went ignored and her captor didn’t bother to ask if she was okay. Why it surprised her a peasant would be treated that way, Nelka didn’t know. Or perhaps it had to do with who she identified herself as in order to protect herself. It had been pointless, a risky decision that led her exactly where she had wanted to avoid.

Ropes burned against her already raw skin as the echo of her yelp reverberated against the walls of the long hallway, shaking her from her dooming thoughts. As she straightened herself, her mind fully registered where she was and what it meant. Across the sea in Lecit, so far from her home in Lubrana—her quaint village, where her family must be worried to tears and her sister blanched with death waiting outside her door.

The castle’s entryway was more grand than Nelka could have dreamed, and much longer. A way to intimidate folks before they deigned to disturb the Royal family’s peace. The ceiling reached higher than Nelka’s cottage three times over. The chilling, white walls were ornately detailed with amber tiles, while oil lamp chandeliers hung above to provide the barest bit of light. The only source of movement, besides her and her captor’s steps, was the shadows that loomed.

No windows lined the walls, as if to communicate all hope was already lost. That one’s fate was already determined so there was no point in one last look at the world beyond. A cold and eerie welcoming. The columns spread along both sides of the walkway were wrapped in golden vines trailing upward, leading Nelka to crane her neck. She needed to squint to see properly, but images of birds flying overhead were painted on the ceiling, their delicate wings fluttering against the cold stone. A mockery of true freedom. Just like Nelka knew she would never leave. Never see her family again.

Beyond the next set of doors, Nelka knew the Royal family awaited her arrival, ready to sentence her without blinking. Nelka had only heard rumors of their cruelty, but now the daunting interior made it tangible, a reality she had no choice but to face.

Nelka wanted to pinch herself for her outburst at the market. For opening her foolish mouth and thinking she could use her unclaimed status to absolve her. Even if she were a noble in blood, she was not a noble in character.

A fresh wave of tears fell down her face, her vision blurring further with the mixture of rain, but her hands tied behind prevented her from wiping her eyes. She wished Kaz were there. He would be able to undo the vicious knots restraining her. She shook off the thought of him, of his lively green eyes that saw something greater in her.

Her captor grunted in frustration when Nelka stopped again, The King does not like to be kept waiting.

He could not possibly be one of the Royal’s guards. The burly man had unkempt hair and clothes in a worse state than hers, yet no one stopped him from entering. No one gave him a second glance.

She expected to be taken to a local Lord. Thrown into a cell with no trial and barely a thought, a much better outcome than the slaughter Nelka expected from the King and Queen. Instead, her captor threw her into the back of a carriage with no windows, and she blindly traveled for hours. And now, here she walked. It confused her as to why she needed to make an appearance at the Royal castle. She was a nobody to the Royal family. Perhaps they knew her parentage, but she hoped not. It was the one piece of leverage she had to sway them against immediate death. Her biological father was a powerful man, the reason the territory west of Lecit did not attack again, and why so many villages around his own trusted him.

She quickened her steps to keep up with his long stride but it only resulted in Nelka twisting her ankle, her shoes barely gripping the floor. She must have looked like a newborn calf just learning to stand.

Two more guards stood at the doorway, their uniforms crisp and their shoes polished. Their immovable presence like the statue at the town square back home—a gift from the local nobility after a prosperous harvest years ago when prosperity was manageable.

As they neared, the guards stepped forward in sync and opened the doors to reveal a throne room even more extravagant than the room behind her. Still clean and simple, but cold. A shiver ran down her spine that could not be solely blamed on her wet dress. She shrunk beneath the vaulted ceiling where the largest peak of the room overlooked the thrones. When she settled her eyes back forward, two pairs of eyes were already watching her.

King Jurgis sat proudly on his throne with Queen Renata to his left. Two equals. A formidable partnership that could not be broken. The King was bedecked in his court finery of white, medals along his chest signifying the sacrifice he made for his country. His graying hair brushed back in a way that accentuated his sharp cheekbones. But it was nothing in comparison to the Queen. She wore a stark white dress covering her neck and reaching down to the floor; the shade practically matched the color of her pale skin as if she hadn’t seen the sun in years. The entirety of the bodice was covered with amber beads while the details of the flowy skirt mirrored the castle’s interior as if she was built from the walls surrounding her.

While King Jurgis looked bored, his face slightly gaunt, Queen Renata's entire focus remained on Nelka’s every step. Her neck held high and her shoulders so far back it must have been uncomfortable. Nelka swallowed her shaky breath, grateful to have the trembling of her hands hidden behind her, even if her swollen, red eyes were on full display.

When they reached a few paces away from the thrones, the guard pushed her down to the ground. She yelped as her knees banged against the marble floor, knowing tomorrow they would be bruised. If she even lived that long. Her core strength was the only thing keeping her from smashing her face as well. The guard’s dirty shoes pressed down on the back of her neck to keep Nelka in a low bow, tugging painfully on her hair that had fallen from its braid.

A deep, commanding voice let out, What is her crime?

The guard finally walked in front of her to better address the King, but Nelka kept her face down, remaining oblivious to how the Royal family was reacting to the situation.

She was caught stealing.

A roar in her ears urged Nelka to protest. She never stole a damned thing. She had just been wandering through the market innocently looking for answers, trying to find any solution for her sister—

And then… The pause he took, perhaps for dramatic effect, fueled her anxiety. When he continued, he almost seemed unsure of himself. Then claimed to be a Lord’s daughter.

And why would a noble’s daughter need to be thieving?

Only cruelty laced the Queen’s words, no mercy to be found. Already tired of the conversation and desperate for it to end with Nelka’s head rolling across the ground.

She is of no noble status. She wears no ring claiming her as one.

Nelka winced as the guard adjusted his foot on her; a trickle of mud ran down her neck and dripped onto the floor. She stared at it to center her mind on something outside of the harsh and cruel reality she found herself in.

But then, slow, punctuated steps drew closer, and she shut her eyes tightly, hoping the nightmare would soon end. That she would wake up and find herself back home, sleeping in her small cottage with her sister in the bed beside her. Her mother would open the door to let the breeze in, then would pull the blanket off to force them to wake up and start their chores while the smell of fresh bread enticed her senses.

To her dismay, Nelka felt a cold sharpness press against the underside of her chin and raise her face upward. The Queen held her with a small blade, but not hard enough to pierce her skin. Queen Renata’s dark brown eyes peered into Nelka, a judging gaze trailed down from her tattered hair to her dirtied dress. When they landed back to Nelka’s own brown eyes, they looked as if they knew exactly who Nelka was and delighted at what fate awaited her. Nelka swallowed, failing to keep another tear from falling. She was too scared to be embarrassed.

Queen Renata bent at the waist, taking the torn hem at the bottom of Nelka’s dress, and wiped the tear away while whispering, Sweet child, I promise to make it fast.

Then, another set of footsteps entered the throne room, moving quickly. Nelka could not turn her head, for any movement would slice her throat.

Whoever entered spoke without waiting for approval to do so. Deep, labored breaths were the only sound, proving how he rushed to get there. He spilled words that jumbled together because of how fast he tried to communicate, like his future depended on it.

The King shouted for the boy to speak clearer, a future King never hurried his speech.

Slowing his speech, the Prince of the Nidora-Lecit Commonwealth said, You cannot execute her, Mother. The nobility will never forgive it.

Relief washed through her. Maybe she would come out of this alive. Maybe they would listen and realize it was all a misunderstanding and she was just a poor villager. She would never have guessed the Prince of the Commonwealth would care so much, but she appreciated his efforts.

It was short lived though. Narrowing her eyes at Nelka, Queen Renata lifted herself, taking the blade with her, and allowing Nelka to take her first deep breath.

The nobility bow to me, Andrius. I will do as I wish, Queen Renata clarified, pointing the dagger at her son before handing it to a guard carelessly, almost stabbing him in the hand.

We don’t need an uprising, he reminded her. "Just the possibility of her speaking the truth, of her being an actual noble could cause more trouble than it’s worth if we act too soon."

For with this new Commonwealth, the nobles now had the power to vote. Harming a potential noble without the consent of the council of nobility would paint a bad picture for the Prince. Nelka needed to use it to her advantage.

The Queen waved him off.

She’s lying. Just look at her. She’s a peasant, and no one would notice if she was gone, she said as she wiped down her dress, even though no dust or dirt stained it, and walked back up the steps to the throne. The nobility only care for their kind.

When she was taken by the brawny guard after he found her merely looking at a finely made compass, she was only able to tell him she was a noble’s daughter. Before she could further explain, he threw her to the ground and tied her up.

Nelka was not a brave person. She frightened easily. But in this moment, when only a few breaths separated her from her grim fate, when she knew this would at least cause the Royal family to pause before making a decision, Nelka let out, Then, you would be displeased to hear I am Lord Rutkow’s daughter.

Chapter 2

Then

The breeze picked up, clean sheets billowing on the line toward the sea. Like a babe’s arms stretching for a toy just out of reach.

A stain marred one of her dresses, and it refused to budge no matter how hard she scrubbed. Nelka made a note to grab one of her old garments from when she was a child to sew a patch over it and hide it. Some of her dresses were so covered with them it created a mosaic of whites, grays, and browns with splashes of yellow or blue from scraps her stepfather brought home from his journeys. A little gift to show he always thought of her.

Her sister didn’t understand the point of why Nelka did it, saying she looked like a dirty peasant who couldn’t afford something new. Nelka ignored Olesia, not needing her to understand. The act of sitting down, cutting a small square of fabric from something old, and reusing it reminded Nelka she was more than just a peasant or a farmer or a bastard daughter. That just like the small patch, she could recreate herself and start anew.

Nelka, her mother yelled from the other side of their small field of land. Her mother’s body was small, but her voice boomed, even outdoors. If they were inside, Nelka would have likely been startled. Knowing her mother, there must have been something Nelka did that didn’t meet the woman’s standards. Come here when you finish!

Which meant get there right now.

Nelka hurried and hung up the last remaining items. She loved her mother. She really did. Nelka couldn’t imagine a world without her, her younger sister, and her stepfather. But her mother was never satisfied. If Nelka didn’t do a chore, her mother became angry she hadn’t done it without being told. When Nelka did do a chore, it wasn’t done right. Her mind constantly volleyed between: would it be better to do the task and not deal with her mother’s reprimands, or wait until she didn’t have to repeat the chore?

Stepping through the gate barring the animals from entering, Nelka met her mother who crouched in front of the tomato plants.

Look what happened, her mother sighed as she pulled another weed and added it to the pile next to her.

Nelka bent at the knee and pulled a red tomato from its stem. From the front it looked normal and ripe, ready to be added to a piece of fresh bread with butter and parsley. But Nelka turned it over to find two brown spots, indicating pests had infiltrated the plant.

The ones at the bottom are worse. Mother pushed one that had fallen, revealing a half-eaten tomato with ants crawling all over it, ready to take a piece back to their homes.

The food wouldn’t be going to waste as her family would gather the least rotten ones, eat them, and feed the rest of them to the animals. But Lord Bodnar—the town’s Lord—wouldn’t be pleased if it resulted in a low harvest from their family, causing them to make up the costs. Either with coin their family didn’t have, meaning their debt would only grow, or—

Olesia will have to kill a cow to make up for the loss, Nelka said gravely, thinking of the poor animal whose life would be taken. A necessary cruelty that pained her.

Whenever they had to kill one of them, Olesia decided which one would be slaughtered.

In addition to the vegetables they grew; cows, chickens, and sheep roamed their land, all adding to their yearly harvest. Ever since she was little, Nelka named each new animal who was born on their small farm. The first cow she saw birthed was named Milk. Olesia, only a year younger, took on the role of butcher because she enjoyed learning the mechanics of bones and muscles, where the best places were to chop in order to guarantee the largest gain. But really, the responsibility was handed to her when Nelka’s stepfather, and Olesia’s birth father, required traveling more frequently to sell the village’s wares.

Her stepfather was considered the town’s merchant, just like his father was. The villagers trusted him, and he was a skilled haggler, knowing how to get the most coin for the people’s goods. And the villagers needed every coin they could get.

The most demanded Nidoran export was salt. Down the river, a salt cave stood and miners from the villages it touched came to extract their share to sell. Unfortunately their village, Lubrana, had no claim to it since it didn’t fall within their jurisdiction. There was talk of Lords trying to make it solely their own so they could increase their gains, but it was too valuable a resource to let one village hoard it for themselves. And with salt being the most sought after Nidoran product, one even Lecit paid handsomely for, the peasants never had the opportunity to keep any for themselves.

Mother groaned as she got back up stretching her back and neck, her knees popping as she did. She wiped her dirtied hands on her apron, small embroidered flowers dotted the fabric. Nelka’s doing.

Placing an arm around Nelka’s shoulders, Mother led her away from their vegetable garden and toward the cottage. The rotting exterior was older than her grandparents; a home her stepfather inherited when they passed. The wood had worn from age, yet it still stood proudly, keeping their family warm and safe. Olesia always said it made her feel trapped.

Inside it was simple. To the right they had a small kitchen with a table and chairs, and to the left her parent’s bed. In the corner a divider provided privacy for those taking a bath in the large basin. The only other room was a bedroom with two beds. One for Olesia and one for Nelka.

When they were children, Nelka and Olesia shared a bed while their parents shared the other. As they grew older, Olesia complained about how the bed was too small for their larger bodies, so now their parents slept in the main area of the house. In a bed one of the townspeople died in; the family threw it away to make more space for themselves. Mother blessed the bed with dandelion water before she allowed it to touch their home.

A cleansing of the souls who passed, she’d said.

Olesia placed logs into the wood-burning stove. Her hair was still in the braid Nelka had done that morning, but wisps of it hung from her head from all angles. Mother said Olesia still had so many baby hairs because she was prone to whine and fuss like a newborn hungering for its next feed.

It was true. Olesia was dutiful like Nelka, but she complained about it so much the livestock took to walking away from her as soon as their bellies were filled, wanting their own peace from her mutterings. On the other hand, Nelka sulked in private, away from her mother’s eyes. Maybe it was due to the fact she was the oldest and would take over the farm with her future betrothed once her parents died, even if she technically was not her stepfather’s blood. Nelka could not count on her real father, a man who threw out her pregnant mother from his home, to provide for her future.

The Rutkow home.

Nelka shuddered just thinking about it. Her mother must have some sort of telepathic abilities because she could always sense when Nelka had the man on her mind. Fingers snapped close to her face, taking her out of her thoughts.

We need water to fill the baths. It’s your turn to go. Olesia pointed toward the buckets near the door.

Asking politely never hurts.

Politeness doesn’t fill the bath with water.

Nelka crossed her arms, and they stared off, like some kind of showdown between two bulls. Unfortunately for Nelka, she was wearing red. Fortunately, their mother excelled at managing her daughters.

Olesia, don’t be a nuisance. No one likes troublemakers, her mother intervened while aggressively getting pots out to make dinner.

Olesia sighed, gritting her teeth as she said, Will you please get some water for the baths? I was working in the barn all day and blistered my hands.

Nelka mockingly bowed her head while drawling out, a yes my lady.

Olesia rolled her eyes.

Getting water from the town well always took two trips for a single person, but Nelka didn’t mind the labor. She enjoyed walking through the gritty pathways, even when her arms tired. It gave her the opportunity to interact with other townspeople or just enjoy the time to herself.

Nelka grabbed her cloak from the wall and stepped back outdoors where the sun began to slowly descend; the sky melted into a mixture of oranges, blues, and purples. Colors from flowers Nelka had once begged her mother to plant, but flowers did not help sustain them, nor did they help pay their debts.

It was a chilly summer night, a much needed reprieve from the days of boiling heat. Autumn would soon be upon them and the busyness of harvest along with it.

Humming to herself as she went, Nelka trekked onward so she could get home before it truly got too dark.

The roads were empty, save for a few people on their wagons filled with hay pulled by horses or mothers with their children making their way home from the shops, bags with bread, fruit, or meat in their hands. Nelka waved to familiar faces. Living in such a small village meant knowing everyone intimately, and everyone knowing everything about you. Secrets didn’t exist, especially with town gossips—her Aunt Sofina the head of the group.

As she went, she passed patches of tall, green grass that would soon be ready to cut for hay and run-down cottages whose thatched roofs needed repair before winter. Wooden gates separated one’s property from the next. It was like a maze to weave through, and one could easily get lost, especially with the town square situated on the other side of the river, away from people’s homes. Her stepfather told her it was to symbolize the divide between the workers and the powerful since the Lord’s home was at the center of the square. The shops, school, and physician are easily accessible to it, but a hike for everyone else.

Nelka thought that to be a dramatic interpretation.

She passed over the small bridge leading to the other side of town, wildflowers poked through the gaps of wood as if greeting her. As a child, Nelka had always been tempted to pluck them, but even then, her mother taught her if she took them, the town would have no beauty to display. It would be selfish of her.

Now that she was older, Nelka knew the flowers would just grow back so there was no harm. Shaking her head, Nelka promised herself she would come back tomorrow and make a bouquet of the colorful wildflowers.

At the well, Nelka was grateful to find no one else there. She clasped the hook on the tethered rope with the first bucket on it and slowly lowered it down. Once it hit the water, she maneuvered the bucket to fill it as much as possible. Then she pulled, careful to keep water from spilling out. Nelka developed steady hands and patience with all the needlework she did, but Olesia struggled. Olesia had strength, but when Olesia started coming to the well, she pulled too quickly, in a rush to bring the bucket back up. Water always sloshed out, leaving only half of the contents inside.

Satisfied with the amount of water, Nelka started on the second.

It was on her second round of going to the well, after dropping off the first two buckets back home to be boiled, her attention became so focused on the task at hand, she didn’t hear the rustle of tall grass or the crunch of twigs that grew closer and louder.

As she went to unhook the second bucket, a mass of something large and furry pushed her to the ground, the bucket falling back down the well. A splash boomed as it hit the water.

Chapter 3

Now

The Queen whipped her pinched face back toward Nelka while the King’s eyes bulged at her proclamation. Words that, even if believed true, could get her killed for disobedience. No one, especially royalty, liked to be proven wrong. Easier to kill first than learn of an error.

But Nelka wouldn’t cower in what could be her last moments. She couldn’t. For her sister, she would stand.

Careful to not fall, which was easier said than done with her otherwise occupied hands, Nelka knelt on one knee, found her balance, and hoisted herself up. Guards readied their hands on the hilt of their swords, but she didn’t allow herself to think too much about the deadly weapons. Nelka felt the Prince’s gaze on her every movement from his position on the dais. Could feel his hunger to hear more, as if starved of entertainment.

When the next words spilled from her mouth, she looked directly at him as it was easier than the snarling faces of the King and Queen. The Prince smirked as