The Queen’s Rising

Luc Jourdain

Amadine Jourdain

Jean David, lackey and coachman

Agnes Cote, chamberlain

Pierre Faure, chef

Liam O’Brian, thane

Others Involved with Jourdain

Hector Laurent (Braden Kavanagh)

Yseult Laurent (Isolde Kavanagh)

Theo d’Aramitz (Aodhan Morgane)

ALLENACH HOUSE

Brendan Allenach, lord

Rian Allenach, firstborn son

Sean Allenach, second-born son

Others Mentioned

Gilroy Lannon, king of Maevana

Liadan Kavanagh, the first queen of Maevana

Tristan Allenach

Norah Kavanagh, third-born princess of Maevana

Evan Berne, printmaker

THE FOURTEEN HOUSES OF MAEVANA

Allenach the Shrewd

Kavanagh the Bright

Burke the Elder

Lannon the Fierce

Carran the Courageous

MacBran the Merciful

Dermott the Loved

MacCarey the Just

Dunn the Wise

MacFinley the Pensive

Fitzsimmons the Gentle

MacQuinn the Steadfast

Halloran the Upright

Morgane the Swift

Denotes a fallen House

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Midsummer 1559Province of Angelique, Kingdom of Valenia

Magnalia House was the sort of establishment where only wealthy, talented girls mastered their passion. It wasn’t designed for girls who were lacking, for girls who were illegitimate daughters, and certainly not for girls who defied kings. I, of course, happen to be all three of those things.

I was ten years old when my grandfather first took me to Magnalia. Not only was it the hottest day of summer, an afternoon for bloated clouds and short tempers, it was the day I decided to ask the question that had haunted me ever since I had been placed in the orphanage.

“Grandpapa, who is my father?”

My grandfather sat on the opposite bench, his eyes heavy from the heat until my inquiry startled him. He was a proper man, a good yet very private man. Because of that, I believed he was ashamed of me—the illegitimate child of his beloved, dead daughter.

But on that sweltering day, he was trapped in the coach with me, and I had voiced a question he must answer. He blinked down at my expectant face, frowning as if I had asked him to pluck the moon from the sky. “Your father is not a respectable man, Brienna.”

“Does he have a name?” I persisted. Hot weather made me bold, while it melted the older ones, like Grandpapa. I felt confident that he would at long last tell me who I had descended from.

“Don’t all men?” He was getting crabby. We had been traveling for two days in this heat.