The Dark Queen (The Dark Queens Book 5)
Table of Contents
The Dark Queen
The Dark Queen
The Dark Queen: Part I
Forward
An open letter to you, dear readers...
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Another letter to the reader
The Dark Queen: Part 2
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Author’s Notes
About Jovee Winters
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Marie Hall Books | Kingdom Series (Fairy Tale Romance)
The Dark Queen
Copyright 2016 Jovee Winters
Cover Art by Nathalia Sullen
Formatted by D2D
My super seekrit hangout!
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events, or places is purely coincidental. Though if you should spot a cute fairy or a lecherous imp, say hi for me.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher, Jovee Winters, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the context of reviews.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Jovee Winters.
Unauthorized or restricted use in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patent Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2016 by Jovee Winters, United States of America
The Dark Queen
“Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who’s the fairest one of all?”
We all know the legend, or so we think. But what do you really know of the woman behind the myth? Fable of Seren—daughter of the Sea King, and granddaughter of both Calypso and Hades. The blood of gods runs through her veins, but the young girl destined to one day wear the title of The Evil Queen is now seventeen and wants nothing more than to see the land above the waves, to be part of the human realm. One fine day she does just that, but the heaven she imagined turns into a terrible nightmare of pain, suffering, and lies that twists the heart of this starry-eyed girl into one of darkness and hate.
Villains aren’t born; they’re made.
But sometimes even villains get a second chance. Calypso, seeing the suffering of her granddaughter has concocted a brilliantly, clever plan—The Love Games. In Kingdom, there is one magic more powerful than even the darkest of spells...true love, and with the help of her BFF—Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love—Calypso knows exactly who Fable’s truest love is. A Native American god called, Owiot. Can this gentle, star-eyed god help Fable see there is another path she can take before it’s too late and the evil that beats within her heart consumes her soul for good?
The Dark Queen: Part I
Inside each of us, there is the seed of both good and evil. It’s a constant struggle as to which one will win. And one cannot exist without the other ~Eric Burdon
In this life, we have to make many choices. Some are very important choices. Some are not. Many of our choices are between good and evil. The choices we make, however, determine to a large extent our happiness or our unhappiness, because we have to live with the consequences of our actions~ James E. Faust
Forward
Many names has she been called. Evil. Vain. Tempestuous. Jealous...
~Writ by The Brothers
No doubt you all think you know the true story of the woman they call the evil queen. Cruel. Unmerciful. Prideful. The queen is called the fairest in all the lands until the day her magick mirror tells her there is one more fair, a child by the name of Snow White. The queen, in a fit of rage, demands her huntsman take care of the problem once and for all. Take Snow out into the Enchanted Forest, kill her and bring back her heart. He does. Or so it seems because little Snow with her guileless beauty and beatific smile weakens his resolve, and instead he sticks and kills a swine, bringing it and not Snow’s heart back to his Queen. The Queen eventually discovers his deception and henceforth is on a mission to end the beautiful and innocent daughter of the King. Turning into a crone and offering the pretty lady a poisoned apple. One bite is all it takes to send Snow into a catatonic trance, never to be broken...save for true love’s kiss. In the end, the terrible and dark queen receives her just reward as she is violently punished, forced to dance in heated iron boots to her death.
Well, that’s how the story goes anyway. But as we all know, in Kingdom stories are rarely what they seem. What if the tales were all wrong? What if what you think you know is nothing more than smoke and mirrors? What if the Dark Queen isn’t who you think she is at all?
This then is the true tale of Fable, the most beautiful woman in all of Kingdom with skin dark as night, eyes more golden than the sun, and hair the shade of deepest ebony.
I will tell this story differently than I tell the others. I’ve given her permission to pen you a short introduction letter.
Now let us begin this story as all good stories do.
Once.
Upon.
A.
Time...
~Anonymous, one of the 13 keepers of the Tales.
An open letter to you, dear readers...
Fable
It all started the day I was born.
I knew I was different when I opened my eyes and saw a world full of sea monsters, smiles, and gods.
Calypso, my grandmother, and Hades, my grandfather, told me I would be destined for greatness. But I never believed it. Born a twin, I felt very lacking when compared to my brother.
Where I was human form, he was merfolk. The first male since my father born with a tail—the revelry and wine flowed for nearly two weeks after his announcement. I was dark; he was light. My hair was black as night, his as electrifyingly blue as the sky above our waters.
The folk beneath the waves loved me and kept a watchful eye on me, but always I felt less than. Lacking in ways, I couldn’t quite understand.
Don’t mistake me; I loved my life. A girl couldn’t have asked for better parents. My father was the King of the Sea. You should have seen the magick he created for me on a whim. Chariots of water, steeds built from the icy waves beneath the Northern shores, gardens that glowed green and blue and twinkled like stars, anything, and everything to keep me happy.
But always I knew I could not be as happy as my mother had been in the below. She, the daughter of the infamous Captain Hook, willingly choose to live her life beneath the sea, choosing love above all else.
Uriah, my brother, could never understand my sullenness; he loved the waters and its people. And I did too, but I envied the life my mother had given up. It was the little things that drove my curiosity.
How would it feel to breathe, not through gills, but through my nose? Would it tickle, or feel wet as it did now? Walking, I'd heard, was much more cumbersome above because of this crazy thing called gravity. Walking in the below felt weightless, effortless, dre
amlike.
Much like my life sometimes did.
Like it wasn’t real, just a waking dream I partook in until the day I could finally wake up and see the world above. I’d seen glimpses of it, of course. Like when my Aunt Aphrodite would come over for a quick spot of tea and she’d painted images of Mt. Olympus on the sea bubbles.
It was full of gods. Of more people who weren’t quite like me. I had power, but I was no god.
I knew I was different than most.
And usually it didn’t bother me, but sometimes it did. Like, when growing up, I’d join in on the mermaid games of catch and chase. Even in the below, without a tail, I was slow and cumbersome compared to the folk. After getting caught for the tenth time, I’d become frustrated and cranky and without thought, I’d shifted to shadow.
I have magick. Strong magick. Magick that I cannot always control, though I try. I try so hard, but sometimes my emotions...they get the better of me. They make me do things, terrible things, things I’m ashamed of.
My parents understand, and my grandmother and grandfather, I think, actually love me more because of my seed of power. Uriah for all his beauty will never know what it is like to taste near a tenth of my magick—as my grandmother says with a touch of pride in her voice.
And sometimes, yes, I see him look upon my art with longing, but truthfully it is he I envy. Knowing that you were born in exactly the right place and amongst the right people, what a wonderful feeling that must be.
I yearned for my freedom, yearned for more, and then one day...it happened.
The Queen of the Enchanted Forest had died, and the king was in search of his new bride, the ripples of her death had spread far and wide and even into the below.
I did not know who the King was or what he might look like, nor did I care. I knew I could make him happy, I would make him happy, and I knew that he could make me happy too. Even if all I was to him was queen in name only. But for a chance to be above land, for a chance to be amongst my kind, not to be gawked and stared at because I lacked a tail or godhood, gods above I would have given anything.
Mother and father did not want me to go. Eventually, it was grandmother who helped them see that, just like Uriah, I too needed to spread my wings and fly.
There were many tears, and much heartache—even from me—but eventually we agreed it was time for me to be “human.”
With a final hug to them both, I turned and proudly marched into my future, holding fast to my grandfather’s gift before leaving—an enchanted mirror. A true friend, he told me, and someone on whom I could always depend on.
I just knew I was stepping into a wonderful and glorious new life, the kind of life I’d always imagined. One full of laughter, happiness, and possibly even love.
Looking back on it now...if I had to do it over again, I think I would have told my younger self to run and never to look back. Of course, I wouldn’t have met “him.” So maybe in the end happiness can only truly be found after the torments of the fire take you down to your very lowest self.
Now I’ll let the keeper tell you my tale, only please, do not judge me too harshly, for had you been in my shoes I’m not sure you wouldn’t have done exactly as I did...
Chapter 1
Fable
Many, many, many years ago...
Stepping through the watery portal, Fable took a look around and almost forgot how to breathe.
There were trees everywhere. Beautiful, towering trees that seemed to reach gnarled fingers in prayerful worship toward the cerulean sky; their chartreuse leaves almost gleaming like twinkling, polished gems in the wash of golden sunlight. Trails of fairy light were easy enough to make out, strands of glimmering red, blue, purple, and silver.
Apple trees in abundance filled the enchanted forest with their fruity, ripe scent. Fable had been surrounded by all that was most beautiful in the below, but nothing, nothing, compared to what she now saw.
She smiled as a gentle breeze feathered across her forehead, smelling scents she’d never smelled before in her life. Pines. Berries. And so many others she had no name for them.
The gills she’d used in Seren hadn’t followed her into the above. Closing her eyes, she tipped her face toward the sun and inhaled deeply. Letting her senses soak it all in.
Damp leaves.
Fresh earth.
And flowers. So many flowers. This was heaven on earth, and for the first time in her life, she felt her soul smile.
“Oh gods,” she moaned, inhaling even harder with the next breath. She didn’t know what kind of flower it was as she’d so rarely smelled the ones in the above before, but whatever it was, she loved it.
Fragrant with a heady nip of roses to it, but not quite a rose...a little more citrusy maybe? Also, breathing didn’t tickle.
She’d almost hoped it would. A grin she couldn’t contain stretched wide on her face.
“So this is the above,” she whispered in an awed hush. “Happy birthday to me.”
Today she’d turned seventeen. A woman grown now, she had plans. So many plans. She’d find and marry her King; she’d be the people’s benevolent queen and a good wife. Those were things she desired above all else. And she knew she’d do it too.
“Watch out!” A man’s sharp cry startled her from her contemplative reverie.
With a startled yip, she backpedaled, hugging the awkwardly shaped mirror tight to her breast and staring at him in wide-eyed shock.
The man—who sat upon the rickety seat of a Hackney led by two tired looking old mules—was dirty. His face smudged with dirt, grime, and sweat. His dark hair matted to his head and held tight with a dingy green ribbon. He wore a patchwork vest over a threadbare, yellowish—which must have surely once been cream—colored shirt.
He sneered, showing off several missing teeth. “Ye almost broke my wheels, you wench!”
She looked, and sure enough, there was a wide swerve in the muddy trail. Blinking, confused by his anger and his manner she shook her head. “I’m...I’m sor—”
“Save yer sorry, female.” He said, and immediately his harsh tone shifted into something more lecherous. His lips turned from a hard, nasty line to a lascivious leer. His gaze turned from hard to slow and measuring, she shivered under his intense and gimleted stare.
Fable had been studying the above all her life, she knew women’s fashion and knew she’d dressed the part of a noblewoman. Because that’s exactly what she was. Her father was king of Seren, in the above or the below that meant something.
Her cloak was frost-white colored and threaded through with swirls of silver that winked like fairy light as she moved. Her dark hair had been caught up in a loose and feminine bun, highlighting the sharply sculpted planes of her cheekbones.
She’d worn no face paint, but then she needed none. Fable wasn’t prideful, but she knew her beauty was exotic and unique. The flare of interest in his dull brown eyes was immediately evident.
Wetting his thin lips, he curled them into a lewd twist. “Well, now aren’t ye a fine bit of feminine flesh.”
Biting down on her back teeth she notched her chin high. Fable knew that if she called out to Calypso, her grandmother would come in a heartbeat and smite the rat with a mere flick of her dainty finger.
But Fable had learned one thing growing up, the blood of her father and mother flowed through her veins, she was not powerless. Notching her chin, she gathered her courage and looked him straight in the eye.
“Apologize,” she said in a clear, but not near as strong a voice as she would have liked.
His nostrils flared, and his Adam’s apple rolled as his slight belly shook with laughter. “Excuse me?”
“Were...were you never taught not to speak to a lady that way?” Her heart fluttered and her fingers tingled with a case of fear and nerves.
Again he wet his lips, but this time, he released the loose reins in his grip and moved as though he meant to step down from the Hackney.
As a princess, Fable had never known
a day of impoliteness in her life. And if the male had only been cruel, she’d have overlooked it, but the intent to do her harm burned through his mean, little eyes.
Planting his hands on his hips, he spread his thin legs wide, perhaps to show off the bulge in his trousers.
Her pulse beat loudly in her ears; she tried to swallow the thick knot of her fear in her throat. She could not lose control of her powers. Breathing steadily through her nose and pushing it out between her lips, she counted slowly to ten in her head, trying to calm the adrenaline pumping through her veins.
Hand reaching down to his bulge, he gently stroked himself as he asked, “Have you ever sucked, woman?”
Fingers digging into the mirror with such strength that she snapped two of her nails, she opened her mouth, ready to say...only goddess knew what when the sharp neighs of more horses cut through her tension.
“Get away from her!” Another male thundered.
Fable, now more than upset, was ready to crack and let loose her magic on both men. It was only her first day on the above; she couldn’t fail already. She couldn’t go back home with her tail between her legs; she had to prove to her parents that she was capable and as able as they, but one look at the still nameless male and the words died on her tongue.
The male sat upon a white and noble steed. Golden haired with deep blue eyes, a sharp nose that was just shy of being too beakish—but fit his square-jawed face perfectly—and with a ready smile shining with bright white teeth, he could be none other than the king of the Enchanted Forest.
“Sire!” The rat-faced beast whimpered, dropping so sharply to his knees that even Fable couldn’t help but wince at what would surely be bruised knees in the morning.
Only once rat face had bowed did she realize that she stood still gawking at the king like a simpleton.
“My lord,” she said softly, and gracefully bowed. Or as gracefully as she could manage, refusing for even a moment to release her grip on the mirror.
“Go.” Was all the King said.
But Fable knew he’d not said it to her, when rat face, with a silent nod, whipped up his reins, flicked his poor animals, and raced away as fast as his crooked wheels allowed.