A Queen is Knighted Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by R. J. Setser

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 9798554353901

  www.RJSetser.com

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  Praise for R. J. Setser

  “Setser weaves a magical story of adventure and mystery. Within a few chapters, I found myself on the edge of my seat to see what would happen to my favorite characters. Be prepared to have this story capture your attention and never let go.”

  Elizabeth Newsom, author of Torvan Trilogy

  “All I can say is ‘buckle up!’ because A Queen is Knighted is one of those emotional rollercoasters where you think you've got it all figured out one minute, then the next minute R.J. Setser throws another genius twist your way!”

  Valerie Cotnoir, author of Bridget’s Journey

  “A Queen is Knighted kept me captivated every single page through its use of compelling prose and enthralling narrative. I highly recommend this work for fans of fantasy!”

  Christian Sterling, author of The Gems of Elsana series

  To the army of people who never forgot the title of this book, asking when you could read it. Even after 8 years. You’re the reason it’s finished.

  A Queen is Knighted

  The Tunockian Chronicles, Book 1

  R. J. Setser

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. A Scream in the Night

  2. The Blood Red Flames

  3. Riding Hard

  4. A War of Emotions

  5. The Bubble in the Forest

  6. The First Knight of Wilmington

  7. The Astringent Truth

  8. Resolve and Makeshift Plans

  9. A Command and a Request

  10. Prince Zack

  11. Princess Arielle

  12. A Poor Excuse

  13. Back in the Saddle

  14. Spooked Horses

  15. Rain

  16. Traveler’s Circle

  17. A Midnight Stroll

  18. The Letter

  19. A Strange Sighting

  20. A Nap in the Woods

  21. A Distressed Servant

  22. Arrival at Taus

  23. The Great Wolf

  24. Parting Ways

  25. Together Again

  26. A Decision is Made

  27. The Black Castle

  28. Princess Arielle’s Vision

  29. Departing

  30. Everlasting Night

  31. The Road to Heinch

  32. Night Settles

  33. Smoke Rising

  34. Red Lightning

  35. Escaping the Storm

  36. Meeting

  Epilogue

  Book 2 Coming Soon!

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Somewhere beyond the Sundaland Mountains…

  * * *

  The roaring wind and swirling snow caused the rider to clutch onto the saddle as though his life depended on it—because it did. He felt himself sliding and teetering over the left side of the saddle and grabbed the reins in a panic, pulling himself to an upright position. He couldn’t see where they were going, nor where they had come from, but he had resolved to make it back to Tunock—alive, preferably. Dying would hardly fulfill the undertaking of his journey. Returning alive was the only way that the Three Kingdoms would ever know the secrets the Sundaland Mountains truly held.

  What a paradise he had found! And how he’d wished to remain there forever instead of plowing—again—through this unearthly blizzard. But no, he had a duty to his kingdom, and the family he had almost forgotten about. Poor Ermina’s face—streaked with tears as he rode away a year ago—was the only thing that kept him moving now; how could he have misplaced the memory of his beloved daughter in only a few months? His discovery had been intoxicating, that’s how.

  His body shivered as an all-too-familiar, perfect bronze face replaced that of his wife’s. He shook his head, guilt flooding the pit of his stomach for only a second. He didn’t regret anything about this journey, he’d be a fool to try to make himself feel guilty. But the kingdoms, his family, they needed to know about this magical world. This world of beauty, mysticism, and wonder. Even the fairy tales he and others grew up hearing hardly touched the grandeur of the world Beyond. Still, a pang of sadness gripped him at the possibility of dying on his way, or shortly after his return, to his home and never seeing this paradise—or her—again. But that was a sacrifice he would willfully make if it meant that he fulfilled his greatest quest as the first knight to venture into the Sundaland Mountains—and return with stories to tell.

  The knight’s horse stumbled in the snow, causing him to pitch forward in his seat. In a desperate attempt, he clutched the reins to keep from falling. But with his strength spent from weeks of traveling before reaching the maddening white storm a day ago, he tumbled out of the saddle and fell hard to the ground.

  “I have to b-be c-close,” he muttered to himself through chattering teeth, more an attempt to keep his spirits high than an attempt to convince himself of the lie.

  He shivered at the biting cold ripping straight through the massive fur coat he wore over his tunic, trousers, and mesh armor. His skin had long stopped its irritated itching caused by the frigid wind and was now numb to the touch. He tried to stand. Pulsing fire shot through his ankle, although he hadn’t been able to feel his feet for some time, and he was unsure if that meant that his ankle had broken in his fall or if it resulted from his overexposure to the below-freezing temperatures.

  He cursed under his breath. His body was already weak; he had recognized the signs of fever setting in a few hours ago, and now he couldn’t stand. If he didn’t get out of the cursed cold soon, these mountains would claim him and bury him and his secrets in a snowy grave. And a snowy grave meant “failure” to the knight, a failure not only to his kingdom, but to himself. He didn’t leave paradise, and his foreign love, only to die in these cursed mountains.

  Using all the strength he could muster from the one leg that he could still use, he pulled himself up and out of the snow and reached for the stirrups. Leaning on his steed for support, he narrowed his eyes and searched for anything that he would recognize as a landmark. Snow gathered in his beard, and he repeatedly spat out the icy powder to keep his lips from becoming frostbitten.

  He had journaled this trip in heavy detail on his way out of the Three Kingdoms so he could find his way back one day. Just before embarking on his return journey, he had committed those writings to memory, and even now, though his mind was quickly dulling because of the climate, he knew he was close. He had to be.

  The howling, white storm would end suddenly. He recalled how suddenly it had appeared, as if he had stepped through an invisible curtain that transported him from the black mountains of Sundaland right into the middle of this eternal snow storm. So upon his return, he expected the freezing mountains to, just as suddenly, become the black ones that the Three Kingdoms knew so well.

  When he had first entered through the snowy curtain, he had run backwards from shock and amazingly; the snow disappeared. Then stepping forward again, he passed through the invisible threshold and the wintery blizzard was in full rage, only a step away. But when he looked ahead from his side of the mountain, he could see miles and miles of the rocky, black terrain. It had been the same way when he’d stood on the snowy side of the mountain and looked back to where he had just come from—miles and miles of snow.

  He didn’t know how to explain it
. He’d never heard of such mysterious things in all his life in the Three Kingdoms. And that was only the beginning of everything he had seen over the past few months. The world was so much bigger than they’d always thought. And far more magical than anyone would have ever believed. He couldn’t wait to bring news of his adventures back to the king of Tunock; the other kingdoms would follow Tunock once King Warrun believed, the knight was certain.

  He just had to make it back alive.

  He coughed, his sides flaring in response as if he were eating flames. Bringing his thoughts back to the present, he knew that he didn’t have the strength to climb back on his mount, so he tugged her forward.

  “C’mon old girl. W-we’re close now, w-we must be.”

  He stumbled through the wind and snow for what seemed like hours, but he never knew how long it really was. Aching and groaning, he forced himself to take step, after step, after step. He felt his head spinning and throbbing, and he knew he was playing a dangerous game with fate.

  His horse dragged her feet too, or maybe he had just become weaker and it felt as if she were pulling against him. Regardless, he noticed how his steps shrank smaller and smaller. Until he looked down and realized that he couldn’t seem to make his feet obey any longer. He just stood there, in blinding wind, staring at his feet and feeling the world spin around him.

  Before he could even process that he was falling, the white of the both the air and ground blurred together in a confusing canvas, and he realized that he couldn’t breathe because of something in his mouth. It was snow. But he couldn’t feel it anymore, it wasn’t cold. It was warm. He was warm, now that he thought about it. He felt as if something wrapped him in the warmest of blankets and he imagined himself magically transported from the saddle to a fireside. He closed his eyes.

  A severe yank on his arm popped his shoulder, and pain coursed all the way to his wrist, causing him to snap his eyes open and gasp in a raspy, voiceless, croak. More snow piled in front of his head and filled his mouth as he felt his body move forward slowly. His horse was pulling him. He had wrapped the reins around his hand with the tight leather entwined around his wrist and through his fingers. Another yank, and he felt his shoulder dislocate from its natural position. He yelled in agony and fought to crawl forward to loosen the reins.

  His fingers wouldn’t move; they were too cold. His whole body was numb; he couldn’t feel entire patches of skin.

  “Whoa girl!” he shouted over the wind, but the sound never met his ears, so he wasn’t sure if he’d said anything at all.

  Another yank, and again his body lurched forward, his arm still splintering in pain. Knowing that he had to do something or else his arm would be forcefully ripped from his shoulder, he willed every bit of his strength to crawl forward to loosen his hand from the reins. He took a steadying breath and pushed himself forward with such determination that he stood on all fours for a brief moment, only to face-plant shortly after the accomplishment.

  But it didn’t matter, the reins had enough slack in them now, so he used his teeth to pull them out from between his fingers and unwrap his hand, freeing his arm from the horse’s movements. His fingers were dark blue, and his arm was turning purple.

  “All right, old girl,” he mumbled, staring at his hand as he tried to wiggle his fingers, “this is it for me. I-I can only hope that you make it b-back to Tunock and they take it as a sign there is more t-to this mountain than m-m-meets the eye.”

  He looked up to bid his horse a farewell and blinked. He shook his head, closed his eyes, and opened them again. Blinking more rapidly than before and looking all around him, he gasped. He was in the black mountains! The Sundaland Mountains! He’d made it!

  “Old girl! I owe you my l-life!” the knight croaked, realizing that his horse had dragged him the mere inches he had been from the magical veil.

  His body was still weak, and he couldn’t feel his feet or his hands. He shivered again. His body was still warm and that meant danger. He tried to remember how long he had traveled into the mountains before reaching the snowy border, but his mind was foggy. He was at a loss for how long it might take to get back to Tunock.

  He pulled himself forward with his elbows, grabbed the reins again, and attempted to lift himself up onto his steed’s back. He hardly moved and instead let his body fall back to the ground in exhaustion.

  “Oh, it’s no use.” He sat back and groaned at the pain his entire body felt.

  Just when his discouragement outweighed his determination, his horse mysteriously laid down in front of him and nudged him with her muzzle towards herself.

  He shivered and looked at her in wonder as he leaned against her side. He knew there was a reason he had chosen this horse in particular for the trip home; she had surprised him more than once on their journey so far.

  Crawling, he struggled his way into the saddle and leaned forward, grasping ahold of the reins. Gently, his horse rose and began walking as if she knew the way. He decided that trusting her with his life—or death—was his only option, and once again, he felt a great warmth embrace him. He closed his eyes and felt as if furs swaddled him against a down mattress. This time, the warmth that unconsciousness offered engulfed him and he didn’t open his eyes again.

  A Scream in the Night

  Thirty Years Later...

  Tunock Castle

  * * *

  A scream pierced the silence of the lightless dawn. Princess Lauraine bolted up in her bed, panting from the dream she had just escaped from. She sighed in relief when she saw that she was in her room and not in the middle of the ocean gasping for breath as she had been in her dream. Absentmindedly, she placed a hand over her chest and felt for the locket that never left her neck, an action that brought her comfort. Her stomach dropped when her fingers grabbed only air.

  She rushed her hand from her chest to her throat and calmed down when her fingers grazed the warmth of the chain. Reaching around her neck, she ran her fingers through her long brown hair and found the locket tangled in the mess. It only took a few seconds of untangling from her hair to bring it back around to its rightful place in the center of her chest. She patted it just before she released it and looked around the darkened room.

  Her breathing had slowed down, but her mind was still in a sleepy fog. The scream echoed in her ears, and she looked around the room, trying to convince herself that the scream had been part of the dream that had startled her awake. The silence surrounding her supported this theory. That day in the water would haunt her until she died.

  Princess Lauraine threw back the heavy, velvet covers and hung her feet off the side of the bed, feeling for her slippers. Normally she would ring for Winnie, her maid, to bring her water. But Winnie required sleep too, and the princess hated disturbing her in the middle of the night.

  Her extended toes found the fluff of her white slippers, and she eased her feet into them as she rose from the bed and began her usual pacing. The air was crisp and cold in the room, but come afternoon, the heat of the day would make it warm and stuffy.

  It was normal for Princess Lauraine’s sleep to have plagues and worries, so pacing the room in the darkness was not unusual. Tonight though, her “worries”, specifically, centered around the dread for her upcoming birthday. It was silly, she knew, birthdays were, at the very least, meant to be exciting and glorious. But come morning, she would be eighteen. In Tunock, eighteen meant she was of age to court, and her mother expected her to marry by the age of twenty, as she had. Lauraine groaned.

  Then she realized, to her horror, that it was probably past “night” and in reality the early hours of the morning. Which meant—she discontinued the thought and threw herself back onto the bed.

  Today is my birthday. I’m eighteen. She sighed. Oh well, the only alternative to growing older is dying. And I don’t very much like that option either.

  Unlike most of the royals in the Three Kingdoms, like her dearest friend Kristeena, Princess of Taus, Lauraine dreaded her birthday every y
ear. Not just this year. Sure, it was exciting to turn another year older, but being a royal meant that birthdays brought with them enormous balls, eccentric gowns, and a night of dancing. Lauraine abhorred all of that. And this new prospect of courting terrified her. The conversation with her mother the day before had upset her, and she couldn’t keep her mother’s words from replaying over and over in her mind as she lay staring at the ceiling.

  * * *

  “But Mother, the only eligible royal is Prince Reuben!” Lauraine’s voice had risen an octave in frustration as she and her mother quarreled once again about the prospects of her suitors. Her hands had shaken as she plopped down on the sofa in her mother’s private parlor.

  “I know that, Lauraine, and no one has told you, nor even asked you, darling, to consider marrying that—that pig! I don’t know anyone—who isn’t power-hungry—who would ever consider giving their daughter’s hand in marriage to the Prince of Wilmington. So you needn’t keep bringing him up.” Her mother looked at her in exasperation from across the room.

  “Then,” Lauraine had already prepared her argument in her head and now recited it aloud to her mother, “if royalty is off the table, I should be able to marry whoever I please, so long as they are kind. I’m not in line for the throne, so I shouldn’t be committed to the same standard as Zack.” She spat his name.