Page 1 of Of Blood & Bone: The Young Queen

Chapter One

Even though the night is warm, I pull the silk wrap a little tighter around my shoulders as I step onto the terrace outside my chambers. It’s late summer, but despite the lingering warmth of the day, I can feel an approaching chill. I walk across the cold stones and rest my hand on the cool granite of the castle wall, looking down on the city below and the valley beyond.

The quarter moon hangs like a silver scythe in the clear night sky and spirals of smoke curl silently into the air as the city dwellers light the fires of early evening. I watch the spirals rise and meld together, forming a grey pall that hangs ominously above the rooftops. In the distance, I can just make out the orange glow of the border beacons. Their bright flames delineate the border to my domain and send a clear warning to those who would try to enter without permission.

Ardvalla - The Land Of The Valley Of The Clouds - so-called due to its position, high in the Maumeen Mountains, is the most fertile and abundant land in all the realms. Isolated, inaccessible, fertile, abundant, prosperous, and the main reason for Ardvalla being the richest kingdom in all of the six realms. My kingdom.

Kingdom. Hmmm... I muse. The “kingdom” hasn’t been ruled by a king in over three generations, and if things keep going the way they are, it’s highly likely it will never be ruled over by a king again. How absurd, then, that we persist in calling this privileged corner of the six realms after a patriarchal system of power that hasn't existed for over a hundred years.

As far as I'm concerned, we should be calling it by a name which more accurately reflects the fact this corner of the six realms has been ruled by a number of Queens for quite some time, but of course no such name exists. The dominance of male power throughout the centuries has led to a complete absence of any words in our language that relate to the institution of female power.

Despite the fact Ardvalla has now been ruled by three queens in succession, still no word exists to reflect this fact.

“Queendom.” I drop the word into the night air and it falls into the darkness, as I have no doubt it would do if I suggested it to the High Council. I let out a frustrated sigh. Ardvalla may have been ruled over by three powerful queens – my great-aunt, my grandmother and my mother, but the power structure upon which their reigns were built remains resolutely traditional, conservative and male dominated.

And so it is now for me – The Young Queen (as I am known) – on the throne for less than a year, but long enough to know that those who hold the power positions in Ardvallan society, and especially those on the High Council, will do anything to hold on to that power. This means persisting with the old ways and clinging to the ancient power structures, even if they are crumbling under the weight of the rules we have incorporated into them.

I look up to the moon and not for the first time wonder how I can bring about change before it's too late.

Ardvalla is in trouble.

Births continue to decline, and pregnancies are becoming fewer and fewer, with many ending in miscarriage or early birth, and the surviving babies are often frail and unwell. Baby boys, in particular, are not surviving the birthing process or, if they do, they fail to thrive afterwards.

The decline started before my great aunt's reign, and I believe we brought it upon ourselves with our ridiculous laws and inward thinking. In our efforts to keep all the abundance and prosperity of Ardvalla to ourselves, we created laws whereby only those who were born in Ardvalla were allowed to live in Ardvalla, and Ardvallans can only marry other Ardvallans. Entry to Ardvalla is severely restricted and outsiders are only allowed to remain here for a short while, mostly to do business. Exceptions are only made in very rare circumstances, and the penalties for those found consorting with outsiders or for outsiders consorting with Ardvallans are severe.

It took a while before the effects of these laws started to show, but within a few generations babies were being born with strange birth defects, and then the rate of births started to fall, year after year. My grandmother used to tell me how it became the norm for newlyweds not to have a child until they were a few years into their marriage. Now a pregnancy is a rare thing and cause for great celebration.

For many years, the decline in fertility was blamed upon the women. This served as the perfect excuse for the male hierarchy to bring in further laws that prohibited women from doing what they considered men's jobs. Suddenly women were forbidden to work on their farms, join the army or work in finance and politics – all deemed too taxing for the “delicate” female physique and mind. The “refeminisation” of women, as they called it, was what was going to save Ardvalla – except that it didn’t. All it did was further entrench the male power position in Ardvallan society.

The birth rate continued to decline and so did Ardvallan social norms along with it. Convinced the cause of the falling birth rate was somehow the fault of women and compromised female fertility, the men of Ardvalla started to take multiple lovers and sex became a new sort of currency. Women wereexpected to almost prove their childbearing abilities before an offer of marriage was forthcoming. Many men entered into other relationships even after they were married, and their wives were expected to simply look the other way, especially if the marriage was childless. Many women found themselves abandoned and cast aside, considered faulty and useless by their husbands and Ardvallan society.

It was only when my grandmother came to power that things started to change. She had long suspected the declining birth rate was not the fault of women, but actually the fault of men. It took her whole reign, but finally she managed to get the High Council to listen to her. Along the way she repealed many of the laws that forbade women to work in what were considered men's jobs, especially for those women who’d never borne a child. And she also introduced what has become known as the Harvesting.

It is this process that is the source of my current predicament and the reason why I am loath to go to my bed. I know sleep will elude me, as it has eluded me for so many nights now. And with the results of the latest Harvesting being revealed in the morning, I know I am not destined to sleep tonight either.

Suddenly the bells of the great Cathedral begin to chime. My head swivels in its direction and my heart starts to beat out of its chest. There has been a birth! A young serving girl, wed not six months past, became pregnant with twins and it was cause for great celebration. There hasn't been a twin pregnancy in over twenty years and many are seeing it as a sign that things are going to change.

One. Two. Three. Four – the bells continue to chime their joyous news. Six. Seven. Then silence. I wait, holding my breath, anticipating the next chime. There should be fourteen chimes in all – seven for each child. But the eighth chime doesn't come, and the silence hangs heavy in the dark night air. I gaze at thegreat Cathedral, willing the bells to ring once again, hoping I can make it happen by the sheer force of my will.

I watch as city dwellers come to their windows and open them, sticking their heads out and turning in the direction of the great Cathedral. Some step tentatively into the streets in the belief that perhaps they missed chimes eight, nine and ten – in the vain hope they will catch chimes eleven to fourteen. No chime comes, and all that remains is the cruel silence. I watch as heads drop and people return to their houses, some throwing a consoling arm around each other, others trudging crestfallen back into their homes. The doors and windows close and I can feel the tiny trickle of hope that had started to flow in my people's hearts being closed off too.

Their only hope now is me.

I turn and with a heart as heavy as my people’s disappointment I make my way into my chamber. We should be rejoicing, a baby has been born after all, a baby that went to full term. There's also the possibility that it's a boy, which would be cause for even greater celebration. Of the twenty-five babies that have been born so far this year, only five have been boys.

However, there's no getting away from it, this birth has been overshadowed by death.

I proceed to the fireplace, on either side of which hang a number of velvet cords; each a different colour, blue, green, yellow, red, pink, black and white, each signifying a different purpose. If I require food or drink, I pull the green cord. Bathing and dressing – the pink cord. General assistance – the yellow cord. Spiritual guidance or healing – the white cord. So far, I’ve had limited need to pull the black cord and no need to pull the red one. I tug on the royal blue cord now, signalling the fact I wish the master of the Grand Council to report to my chamber.

I need to know the details of the birth and the gender of the surviving child, and I know the master of the Grand Council will be privy to this information before anyone else.

Five minutes later the captain of the Night Guard announces the master’s arrival at the door of my chambers.

“Enter,” I command.

Seconds later, the master of the Grand Council glides into my chambers in that unique and creepy way he has of moving, as if his feet don’t actually touch the ground. He's dressed head-to-toe in varying shades of grey. I've never seen him in any other colour and I'm sure he dresses this way in order to blend into the nooks and crannies of the castle walls, hiding in the shadows – the place where he prefers to operate. I've lost count of the number of times I believed myself to be alone, such as in the great hall or the library, only to find him lurking nearby.

“You summoned me, my Queen?” he asks, his voice greasy with displeasure.

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