The Broken Queen Sequel, pt. 1
Okay! I have started work in earnest on the sequel to the Broken Queen. Since the characters have been separated, there will be two chunks of story: Tashaya's time with the Black General, and the rest of the team back in Kota. I don't know how the book will actually begin, or how these chapters will fit together, but for now I'm tackling Tashaya's portion. At least until I get stuck!
This is totally the first draft, with basic but not overly aggressive line editing, so undoubtedly things will change, especially since my outline for this book is a lot of "and then stuff happens", but if you have any thoughts I'm always happy to hear them!
Chapter
Tashaya
Sunlight filtered in through a crack in the curtains, catching the sparkle of dust motes, in the gently swaying room. Tashaya stared, so disoriented that she briefly wondered if she was in some afterlife or telepathic vision.
Through her fuzzy, sleep-dulled thoughts, she became aware of the nearby presence of a man dressed in black.
“How do you feel, Lady Tashaya?” he asked, turning from the desk.
All the memories of last night—or whenever that was—crashed back in. She had agreed to go with the Black General, to travel to enemy lands. Well—she had agreed, but not without coercion. He was the only one who could heal her, and he had promised that it would keep Kurala from harming Atorra.
I’m a prisoner.
“I…I feel reasonably well,” she said, and it was true. She really did feel reasonably well, at least physically, with no fever, no weakness. Her hand moved reflexively to the symbol written on her skin, where it had been since she was a child, since the shadow had marked her.
“It’s gone,” the Black General said. “You slipped into unconsciousness shortly after we left Kota Castle, and I realized you really were quite ill and I didn’t have time to waste. We flew to the ship and I lifted the mark. It shouldn’t trouble you again.”
It was true. Her exhaustion was lifting as she sloughed off the remains of sleep.
The dark magic that had kept her weak and helpless, that had defined her all of her life—gone.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “You should probably eat something, to help rebuild your strength.”
I’m a prisoner and this man is my captor. And what did I agree to?
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Lidiya’s Substack to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.