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ABOUT THE ORCHID THRONE:
A PRISONER OF FATE
As Queen of the island
kingdom of Calanthe, Euthalia will do anything to keep her people
free—and her secrets
safe—from the mad tyrant who rules the mainland. Guided by a magic ring of her
father’s, Lia plays the political game with the cronies the emperor sends to
her island. In her heart, she knows that it’s up to her to save herself from
her fate as the emperor’s bride. But in her dreams, she sees a man, one with
the power to build a better world—a man whose spirit is as strong, and whose
passion is as fierce as her own…
A PRINCE AMONG MEN
ConrÃ, former Crown
Prince of Oriel, has built an army to overthrow the emperor. But he needs the
fabled Abiding Ring to succeed. The ring that Euthalia holds so dear to her
heart. When the two banished rulers meet face to face, neither can deny the
flames of rebellion that flicker in their eyes—nor the fires of desire that
draw them together. But in this broken world of shattered kingdoms, can they
ever really trust each other? Can their fiery alliance defeat the shadows of
evil that threaten to engulf their hearts and souls?
~ 1 ~
“Arise, Your Highness. The realm awaits the sun of Your presence.”
The ritual words cut through the thick smoke of the nightmare, bringing me awake with a start. A bad omen that I hadn’t come out of the dreams on my own—and
a sign that gave the images
the power to linger
in my mind, stains
refusing to be scrubbed clean.
The wolf fought its chains, howling in hoarse rage, shedding fire and ash.
The sea churned, bloodred and
crimson dark, bones tossed in the waves,
white as foam.
The tower fell into a pile
of golden
rubble, then to fine sand, the grains sliding against one another with soul- grinding
whispered screams.
I loathe dreaming, where I have even less control
than in the waking world. Calanthe
Herself sings sweetly to me of the seas, the plants, and the creatures that walk Her soil. But outside our fragile island, the abandoned lands beyond cry like frightened children in the night. I can’t help them. It’s all I can do to protect Calanthe,
and most days I de- spair
of being
able to do even that.
Still, with no one else to hear them, they call to me in chaotic images, the nightmares dashing
me from one dark scenario to
the next. No matter how the dreams plague me, I usually
wake when the light of the rising sun reddens my eyelids.
I keep my eyes closed, pretending
to anyone
who
checks on me that I’m still asleep. Pulling the pieces of my composure
together, I listen to the morning song of Calanthe. The birds sitting
high in the canopy to catch the first warming rays of the sun show me the sky. The fish swimming in the sea speak of clean water and plentiful food. Even the trees, the flowers, the small insects
in the soil all
hum to me of their lives.
All reassure me of the balance,
that Calanthe, at least, is
peaceful and vital.
Only I and the land I’m tied to exist in that time after sleep and before true waking, in what I call the dream- think, an almost
enchanted bubble where I belong en- tirely to Calanthe. The emperor does not own me. The crying lands he’s orphaned are silent. My ladies have not yet woken me to wrenching reality and the trials
of the day ahead.
Dreams always seem to me
a terrible price to pay for the succor of sleep. Neither my naturalists nor my physi- cians seem to be able to explain
the purpose of such dreams.
And of course, Anure killed all the wizards, so I have none to tell me if magic
can answer those nighttime screams. So without answers, and like the exorbitant
tithes I’m forced to send to the emperor,
I do pay the price, and nightly.
The dreamthink is my reward, my time with Calanthe. A gift arising from waking Ejarat of the earth welcoming
the return of Her husband,
Sawehl of the sun. In the dreamthink, in Calanthe’s sweet communion, I can believe
the old gods are with us still, that they haven’t abandoned us. That I have reason to
hope.
“Euthalia, wake up. We’re ready,” Tertulyn whispered in my ear. My first lady-in-waiting, doing her duty as always. She
couldn’t know she’d woken me from the night- mare instead of the dreamthink. Or that starting
my day this
way meant it would be certainly cursed.
No one believes in omens or curses anymore. Or hope, for
that matter. In this, too, I am
alone.
Euthalia is a mouthful,
but no one calls me that except for Tertulyn so it doesn’t matter. Only Emperor
Anure has the rank to address me by my given name, and I avoid con- versation
with His Imperial Nastiness to the best of my ability.
Tertulyn has called me by my name since we were children, but only when no one can overhear, as etiquette
demands.
As if she’d whispered them into my
ear along
with my name, the concerns
of the realm immediately flooded my mind. The emperor’s
emissary should
have returned in the night and would want an audience with me—something I’d been dreading, as he never brought
good news. Rumors had spread of slave uprisings, possibly even rebellion, as unlikely as that would be, that had the emperor
both an- gry and insecure in his power. The
worst possible combi- nation
in a man like him.
If
I believed a rebellion could
succeed, I would rejoice
in the battle to come. But I had no hope of that. No one could defy Anure’s vast power and ability to destroy the least whimper of resistance, as all those kingless and queenless lands testified, crying their hopelessness to me every
night.
No, such rumors meant the Imperial Tyrant would only tighten his fist—one that already strangled us nearly to death. The prospect of worse to come made me inexpress- ibly
weary, and I hadn’t even gotten out
of bed
yet.
Nevertheless, I had to face the day. A realm
awaited the sun
of my
presence, after all.
I opened my eyes and pasted a serene smile on my lips.
Tertulyn—already wigged, gowned, and decked in fresh flowers—stood a decorous
three steps back from my bed, hands folded over her heart. All equally polished and lovely as morning dew, my five junior ladies awaited in a ring around her. They’d all been up since well before dawn to dress themselves before attending me. And yet their eyes sparkled as brightly as the birds that had shown me the sun on
the sea, pretty painted lips curved in delighted
smiles. Though I was only twenty-six, they made me feel old.
If a witch offered me a magic potion to remove the last ten years and restore
my youth—and the innocent belief I’d had then, that my life would be a good one—I’d down it without question.
Even if it meant my death the next day. No, that was a lie. I would never shirk my duty to Calanthe,
not even for such a fantasy.
Not without an heir
to take
my place.
No matter how old and tired I felt.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
JEFFE KENNEDY is an
award-winning, bestselling author who writes fantasy, fantasy romance, and
contemporary romance. She serves on the Board of Directors for SFWA as a
Director at Large.
Her most recent works include Prisoner of the Crown and the upcoming Exile of the Seas, from her high fantasy trilogy from Rebel Base books, The Chronicles of Dasnaria, in the same world as her award-winning fantasy series The Twelve Kingdoms and The Uncharted Realms. She is a hybrid author, and also self-publishes a fantasy series, Sorcerous Moons. Her books have won the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Fantasy Romance of 2015, been named Best Book of June 2014, and won RWA’s prestigious RITA® Award.
She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, with two Maine coon cats, plentiful free-range lizards and a very handsome Doctor of Oriental Medicine.
Jeffe can be found online at her website: JeffeKennedy.com, every Sunday at the SFF Seven blog, on Facebook, on Goodreads and on Twitter @jeffekennedy.
Her most recent works include Prisoner of the Crown and the upcoming Exile of the Seas, from her high fantasy trilogy from Rebel Base books, The Chronicles of Dasnaria, in the same world as her award-winning fantasy series The Twelve Kingdoms and The Uncharted Realms. She is a hybrid author, and also self-publishes a fantasy series, Sorcerous Moons. Her books have won the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Fantasy Romance of 2015, been named Best Book of June 2014, and won RWA’s prestigious RITA® Award.
She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, with two Maine coon cats, plentiful free-range lizards and a very handsome Doctor of Oriental Medicine.
Jeffe can be found online at her website: JeffeKennedy.com, every Sunday at the SFF Seven blog, on Facebook, on Goodreads and on Twitter @jeffekennedy.
Author Twitter: @jeffekennedy
SMP Romance Twitter: @SMPRomance
or @heroesnhearts
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