To Collar a Queen, page 1
To Collar a Queen
Zara J Black
Copyright © 2023 by Zara J Black
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
For permission requests, email contact@zarajblack.com.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by The Bookbrander Boutique
Editing by R. A. Wright Editing
First edition 2023
Contents
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
30. Chapter Thirty
31. Chapter Thirty-One
32. Chapter Thirty-Two
33. Chapter Thirty-Three
34. Chapter Thirty-Four
35. Chapter Thirty-Five
36. Chapter Thirty-Six
37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
40. Chapter Forty
41. Chapter Forty-One
42. Chapter Forty-Two
43. Chapter Forty-Three
44. Chapter Forty-Four
Stalk me!
Also By
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Johanna
A table of wines lay before me. The colors ranged from clear to thick, bitter black—the color of three-day hangovers and terrible decisions. My hand hovered between yellow and green. It was my birthday. I could live a little. I reached for green, sighed, and chose the safer yellow. There were too many people here to risk making a fool of myself. I was the queen, after all.
Alice, my favorite lady-in-waiting, raised her eyebrows at my selection. “Really, Your Majesty? You don’t want to let loose, just this once?”
Music swelled around us, and guests bustled past as I rolled my eyes. “Maybe at the private party next week. This is mostly dull old nobles anyway. In fact, I need to speak with the governor of Solenic. Have you seen him? I want to double the garrison at his border.”
She snorted. “No war talk. This is supposed to be a celebration. Look at the place.” She waved an expansive hand at the grand ballroom.
I followed her gaze and took her point. Chandeliers filled with candles hung from the ceiling, burning in a rainbow of colors—costly imported trickery. Strips of silk in vibrant shades decorated the walls, fluttering in the breeze from the open windows, and in the center of the room a huge ice sculpture of Dara, our goddess of the sea, reclined with a smile on her face and her long mermaid tail curled around her.
Contortionists performed at stations around the room, twisting their bodies into impossible shapes. I watched with a little jealousy, and my damaged leg throbbed in sympathy. As a child, I’d loved acrobatics and dance, but a bad landing tore the muscles in my thigh, leaving me with an eternal limp and barring me from most sports forever. Now, I could only swim and watch others perform on land.
And along the back wall…
“Oh Dara. What is that monstrosity?”
Alice’s face cracked into a grin. “Do you hate it? I knew you would.”
I took a long sip of my drink. Spelled out across the wall, in the sparkly firesticks that burned for hours, were the words “Happy Birthday Queen Johanna.” Tacky as hell.
“My father’s idea?”
Even though I was, as of today, twenty, he still saw me as twelve. Every year as far back as I could remember, he’d thrown a lavish party for my birthday and insisted on making it fun. My mother tried to steer him toward sensible, staid tea dances, but he foiled her each time, bringing in fire dancers, animals, or whatever held my current fancy. As I grew older, it became a little embarrassing, but I never had the heart to tell him so.
“Who else? No one can say no to him.”
I had to smile at the affection on her face. Though men were barred from ruling in Valentia, my father worked right alongside me. Everyone loved him.
“Well then. Nothing I can do about it. Let’s see what mischief we can find.”
We set out into the throng. Guests glanced my way, turned to their friends, and whispered, but nobody approached. I hadn’t been officially announced yet, and no one would dare breach protocol.
A band played lively music, and a few brave couples had already moved to the dance floor. They spun without grace, tripping over their feet and laughing. My spirits rose. Maybe tonight could be fun after all.
I drained the last of my drink. “I’m dry. Let’s—”
“Jo Jo.”
Ice filled my veins, and the glass almost fell from my fingers. Had the voice spoken in my head? There was no way, no possible way I could have heard it. Only one person had ever called me that. A glance at Alice killed that hope. She looked as stricken and horrified as I felt.
“Jo Jo!” More urgent this time, panicked. I spun, seeking the source. My horror deepened as my worst fear materialized right in front of me.
A country lord I didn’t recognize, clothes at least six months out of style, held the leash of a kneeling red-collared changeling. Red—for pleasure. A sheer golden dress covered her body, accentuating the curve of her breasts and stopping high on her thighs. Her eyes were veiled, but I took in the sharp point of her chin, the line of her neck, and nausea churned my guts. It was her. Emmy. The sister of my heart. My glass fell to the floor and shattered with a crash.
She tried to rise from her knees as the lord struggled to hold her. His face grew purple as he gripped her chain, fighting as she threw out a hand to me. Her nails were curved, almost claws. Inhuman. “Jo Jo. Please! It’s me. It’s really me. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I—”
The lord yanked her collar, and she fell to the side. Fury seared me, a seething mist of rage. How dare he? Emmy, born one week after me, the daughter of my mother’s favorite lady-in-waiting. Both sole children, we’d grown together, closer than sisters.
But she wasn’t my Emmy. Not anymore.
When she turned changeling five months ago, she killed her father and burned their rooms with a wild burst of power. She’d run for the fae gate, as they all did, but the hunters captured her. I’d stood, arms wrapped around her mother as she wept over two wooden boats set alight and pushed out to sea. One held the body of her husband, and the other was empty—a resting place for the spirit of her daughter. Her mind had cracked under the grief, and privately, I believed she’d join her lost family soon.
I couldn’t bear to look at Emmy, so I locked on to the man holding her leash. This country lord—this stupid, ignorant bastard—dared taunt me. I forced down the screaming misery, the tears that wanted to spill, straightened my back, and clenched my fists.
Emmy lurched upward and pushed into the lord, dislodging her veil. I faltered, a scream building in my throat as I took in her eyes. Not Emmy’s eyes—the soft brown shade I still saw when I pictured her face—but the bright, unnatural blue of a fae creature. They shone, almost luminous in the candlelight, as if lit from within. She caught my gaze with a look of misery so heartfelt, so human, a tight spike of guilt pierced my heart.
This wasn’t right. Changelings were dangerous and unpredictable, but what we did to them defied all the rules of a civilized society. I desperately wanted to fix it, but the war took all my focus, and all the palace funds. The ruling council—the same self-serving cowards who’d worked with my mother—blocked all my attempts to push through change. I’d manage it, though. They couldn’t block it forever.
The crowd formed a tight circle around the scene. Guards appeared from nowhere and shadowed me but didn’t intervene. Unless they saw an immediate threat, they’d wait until I gave the signal. Emmy lunged at me, and the lord fought to hold her, sweating as he clutched the chain.
“Please, Jo Jo, I’m begging you. It’s me! Let me come home. I miss you, and Mama and Papa. Please.”
Her words twisted my soul. Did she not know what she’d done? Would she care now, in her fae form? I spoke softly, though my words dragged over the lump in my throat. “You can’t, Emmy. Your father is dead. Don’t you remember?”
Her face crumpled into a perfect copy of human devastation. Did she truly feel remorse? Or was it all a fae trick? “I didn’t mean it. I couldn’t control it. I didn’t want to.”
Sob
The man stared at me in blank horror and panted out, “Your Majesty, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”
Emmy made a huge lunge and almost broke free. Guards stepped between us. “Your Majesty—”
“Jo Jo, please—”
“Enough!” A familiar voice rang through the room, crackling with authority. A man pushed through the crowd with ease, his tall, black-clad form knocking the onlookers aside. Electricity seared my veins as he came into view.
Lord Merrick. He owned the institute that captured feral changelings and turned them out, months later, obedient slaves. His eyes, stormy gray and dark with anger, landed on me, and a shiver ran through me, deep into my bones.
This man should have been my husband.
He should have stood beside me, my high king consort. I should have woken this morning with him in my bed. My mother had arranged it, as was expected, but on her death, I had put him aside. Six months had passed, but I’d never forgotten the shocked look on his face when I’d delivered the news. The betrayal. From the icy glare directed at me now, he hadn’t come close to forgiving me.
The dark fall of his shoulder-length hair, the deep tan of his skin, and the sharpness of his jaw gave him a severe look that, coupled with the anger bubbling in his expression, made the struggling lord take a step back. Merrick yanked the leash from his grip and spoke to Emmy as if they were alone. “Peace, Emmy. Stop this. First position.”
Spoken with what sounded like affection. Emmy trembled, eyes fixed on him. Her throat worked, and she appeared trapped by the soft instruction rather than the collar at her neck.
He spoke again, a dark sliver of warning in his tone. “Don’t make me ask you twice.”
Through our two years of courting, I’d never heard his voice sound like that. He’d always been polite and friendly. I’d struggled to believe him capable of the things I knew he did, once I discovered it. Now, the deep rumble of that command echoed in my head, reverberating down my bones to somewhere inside me. My cheeks flushed as though I’d viewed something private, not meant for me.
Slowly, as if moved by an external force, the fight went out of Emmy, and she sank to her knees. My stomach lurched as she spread her legs, as if in invitation, and clasped her hands behind her back, eyes down. In her revealing dress, the position bordered on the obscene.
He ran his hand over her hair once, a brief but gentle touch. She closed her eyes and shivered. He spoke soothingly. “Good girl. Behave now.”
Merrick straightened, then sketched a low, graceful bow to me. His eyes, though, flashed with disdain. His voice held no emotion, just tight, bland politeness. “Your Majesty. I apologize for this. May I speak freely to this changeling’s owner?”
I swallowed and managed to reply, “Please do.”
He nodded, then faced the lord, all traces of softness gone. “You imbecile. I instructed you on this one’s care myself. The only reason I sold her to you—and at a cheap rate—was your distance from the capital and from the queen. You were to keep her secluded. The sale is forfeit. I’m taking her back, no refund.”
The lord recovered some of his poise. “No. She’s mine. It was a mistake, but the sale is—”
I stepped closer, anger reigniting. “You’re lucky I’m letting you keep your head! Get out of my palace, and be gone from the capital in one hour.”
He stared at me, agape, and for a moment, I thought he might argue, but he dropped into a clumsy bow. “Of course, Your Majesty. Right away.”
He shouldered through the crowd, head down. Merrick’s voice filled the quiet. “Apologies again, Your Majesty. I’ll take this one from your sight right away. Enjoy the rest of your party.”
He bowed again, then tapped Emmy on her head. “Come. Quietly, now. I think your old room in my institute is still free.”
She flinched, and as she stood to follow, shot me a look so hopeless and desolate it branded a hole in my heart. I closed my eyes, tears closer than ever as the pair moved away. Enjoy my party, he’d said. As if I could.
All eyes were on me. The weight of them made my skin itch, and I had to move. I caught the eye of one of my guards and held up a hand, the signal I gave when I wanted an escort. He nodded, and the three of them led me to the closest exit, away from the stares and whispers. On the way past a wine table, I grabbed two glasses of the thick, sticky black. I needed oblivion. Fuck the morning.
Chapter Two
Johanna
Pounding. It came from inside my head, the pulsing of my heart ricocheting through my skull with the force of a million steel drums. Pain pulsed with it, a bright, burning thing matched only by the sickness twisting my stomach. Nausea had me retching into a bowl, curled on my side in a tangle of sweaty sheets. Several people knocked on my door, but I ordered them away. No one, not even my closest ladies-in-waiting, needed to see their queen in a state like this. My mother would have been appalled.
At least she was dead and at peace. Right then, I’d gladly have joined her—leapt into the black, silent sea that awaits us all at the end and sunk straight to the bottom to be buried in the sand.
I’d never coped well with hangovers.
Worse, I couldn’t remember much after I’d tipped back my second glass of black. What had I been thinking? What wild, stupid impulse led me to drink myself into a stupor? I hadn’t returned to the party; I was pretty sure of that. What the hell had happened after I left?
My feverish, pain-addled mind skittered over all those questions whilst avoiding the memory I couldn’t bear to touch. Emmy’s face, twisted with misery. Human misery. But it wasn’t, really, was it? Changelings were fae at heart, even if they only discovered it on their change. With a wrench, I pulled myself away from the image and returned to more cheerful thoughts, like how easy it would be to dive from my window and end the hammering in my head forever.
Another pounding, external this time, jolted me from a sickly half doze. “Go away,” I groaned. “I’m not to be disturbed.”
“Johanna.” My father’s voice, stern and uncompromising. I stifled a curse. The one person in the palace I couldn’t dismiss with a word. “I’m coming in.”
“No, I—”
It was useless. The door swung open, and my father strode in, bringing a bright, horrible beam of sunlight right along with him. I screwed up my eyes and threw the cover over my face.
“You can stop this nonsense right now. It’s almost midday.”
He sat down on the end of my bed, and I squinted up at him. His hair, red and curly like mine, was cropped close to his head, and his green eyes turned up at the corners with a smile that belied his stern words. He shook his head. “Feeling rough?”
I groaned in answer. He set a glass down on my bedside table. “This is a secret remedy from the days I used to go hunting with your uncles. No time for hangovers when there’s leones to kill.”
I shuffled upright, though my head rang out a warning blast of agony, and stretched a shaky hand out for the glass. A single sniff almost had me reaching for the bowl. “What in Dara’s name is in this?”
“Don’t ask, just drink it. Trust me.” He patted my knee. “I promise.”
Against my better judgment, I forced down a single sip. Then another. The flavor, bitter and earthy, wasn’t as bad as the smell, and before long, the glass was empty. The pain in my head backed off to a manageable clamor, and my stomach settled just enough for me to sit upright and look at my father properly. “That’s amazing.”
“I know. I’ll give you the recipe one day … when I judge you able to handle it.”
I smiled, then braced myself for the conversation ahead. “I’m so sorry. You put so much work into the party, and I just—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Anger clouded his features. “I only wish I’d been there to handle that idiot myself. No one could have expected you to continue at the party after what happened.”
“But the guests, some of them traveled for days.”
He snorted. “Oh, don’t worry about them. They’re preening as though they saw the greatest show of all time. The gossip is twisting, and I’m afraid the country regions will think you rather fierce from now on. The latest version is that you held a sword to Lord Hathar’s throat and gave him ten minutes to quit the capital.”
