The Queen’s Resistance

First published in the United States of America by HarperTeen in 2019

Published simultaneously in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2019

Published in this ebook edition in 2019

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

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Text copyright © 2019 Rebecca Ross LLC

Map illustration by Virginia Allyn

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

Rebecca Ross asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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Source ISBN: 9780008246013

Ebook Edition © March 2019 ISBN: 9780008246020

Version: 2019-01-30

To my grandparents—

Mark and Carol Deaton & John and Barbara Wilson,

who continue to inspire me every day.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Map of the Realms

Map of Maevana’s Territories

Cast of Characters

Allenach Family Tree

MacQuinn Family Tree

Morgane Family Tree

Kavanagh Family Tree

PART ONE—The Return

1. The Enemy’s Daughter—Brienna

2. A Trail of Blood—Cartier

3. To Take Up Grievances—Brienna

4. The Swift Are Born for the Longest Night—Cartier

5. Confessions by Candlelight—Brienna

6. The Lass with the Blue Cloak—Cartier

7. Bring Me the Golden Ribbon—Brienna

8. Where Are You, Aodhan?—Cartier

9. The Sharp Edge of Truth—Brienna

10. Orphan No More—Cartier

PART TWO—The Trial

11. Half-Moons—Brienna

12. Bitter Portions—Cartier

13. Late-Night Quandaries—Brienna

14. Once a Lannon, Always a Lannon—Cartier

15. Brothers and Sisters—Brienna

16. Let Their Heads Roll—Cartier

17. Dark Discoveries—Brienna

PART THREE—The Snare

18. Ride the Currents—Cartier

19. At the Mark of the Half-Moon—Brienna

20. A Bleeding Princess—Cartier

21. Lady of MacQuinn—Brienna

22. Rosalie—Cartier

23. The Beast—Brienna

PART FOUR—The Reprisal

24. Ultimatum—Cartier

25. To Thwart and to Hope—Brienna

26. Hidden Threads—Cartier

27. Blades and Stones—Brienna

28. The Southern Tower—Cartier

29. To Hold Fast—Brienna

30. Where Are You, Declan?—Cartier

PART FIVE—The Lady of Morgane

31. Revelations—Brienna

32. The Account—Cartier

33. The Dragon and the Falcon—Brienna

34. Between Darkness and Light—Cartier

35. The Queen Rises—Brienna

36. The Best of Your House—Cartier

37. To Meet the Light—Brienna

Acknowledgments

Keep Reading …

Books by Rebecca Ross

About the Publisher

Map of the Realms

Map of Maevana’s Territories

HOUSE of MACQUINN—The Steadfast

Brienna MacQuinn, mistress of knowledge, the lord’s adopted daughter

Davin MacQuinn, lord of MacQuinn (formerly Aldéric Jourdain)

Lucas MacQuinn, master of music, the lord’s son (formerly Luc Jourdain)

Neeve MacQuinn, weaver

Betha MacQuinn, head weaver

Dillon MacQuinn, groom

Liam O’Brian, thane

Thorn MacQuinn, castle chamberlain

Phillip and Eamon, men-at-arms

Isla MacQuinn, healer

HOUSE of MORGANE—The Swift

Aodhan Morgane, master of knowledge, lord of Morgane (formerly Cartier Évariste)

Seamus Morgane, thane

Aileen Morgane, wife of Seamus, castle chamberlain

Derry Morgane, stonemason

HOUSE of KAVANAGH—The Bright

Isolde Kavanagh, queen of Maevana (formerly Yseult Laurent)

Braden Kavanagh, father to the queen (formerly Hector Laurent)

HOUSE of LANNON—The Fierce

Gilroy Lannon, former king of Maevana

Oona Lannon, wife of Gilroy Lannon

Declan Lannon, son of Gilroy and Oona

Keela Lannon, Declan’s daughter

Ewan Lannon, Declan’s son

HOUSE of HALLORAN—The Upright

Treasa Halloran, lady of Halloran

Pierce Halloran, the lady’s youngest son

HOUSE of ALLENACH—The Shrewd

Sean Allenach, lord of Allenach, Brienna’s half brother

Daley Allenach, the lord’s manservant

HOUSE of BURKE—The Elder

Derrick Burke, lord of Burke

HOUSE of DERMOTT—The Loved

Grainne Dermott, lady of Dermott

Rowan Dermott, husband of Grainne Dermott

OTHERS MENTIONED

Merei Labelle, mistress of music

Oriana DuBois, mistress of art

Tristan Allenach

Tomas Hayden

Fergus Lannon

Patrick Lannon

Ashling Morgane

Líle Morgane

Sive MacQuinn

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

Lord MacQuinn’s Territory, Castle Fionn

Brienna

The castle was brimming with laughter and dinner preparations when Cartier and I entered the hall, blue passion cloaks on our backs, the night breeze tangled in our hair. I came to a stop in the heart of the grand room to admire the hanging tapestries, the high arch of the ceiling that melted into smoky shadows, the mullioned windows on the eastern wall. There was a fire roaring in a glazed hearth, and the women of the castle were setting the best pewter and silver on the trestle tables. They did not take note of me, for I was still a stranger to them, and I watched as a group of young girls decorated the table spines with a current of pine boughs and dark red flowers. A boy was rushing behind them to light a mountain range of candles, his eyes clearly taken with one of the auburn-haired girls.

For a moment, it would almost seem as if this castle and these people had never known the darkness and oppression of the Lannon family’s reign. And yet I wondered what wounds remained in their hearts, in their memories after surviving a tyrannical king for twenty-five years.

“Brienna.” Cartier came to a gentle stop at my side. He stood a safe distance away from me—a full arm’s length—although I could still feel the memory of his touch, I could still taste his lips on mine. We stood together quietly, and I knew he too was soaking in the clamor and rustic beauty of the hall. That he was still trying to adjust to what our lives were about to become now that we had returned home to the queen’s realm of Maevana.

I was the adopted daughter of Davin MacQuinn—a fallen lord who had been in hiding for the past twenty-five years—who had finally returned to light his hall and restore his people.

And Cartier, my former instructor, was the lord of the House of Morgane. The lord of the Swift—Aodhan Morgane.

I could hardly find the will to call him by such a name. It was one I would have never imagined him possessing throughout all the years I had known him in the southern kingdom of Valenia, when I had been his pupil and he had been my teacher, a master of knowledge.

I thought of how our lives had intertwined, from the very first moment I had met him when I was accepted into the prestigious Magnalia House, a Valenian school for the five passions of life. I had assumed that he was Valenian—he had taken on a Valenian name, was polished in etiquette and passion, and had lived nearly all of his life in the southern kingdom.

And yet he had been far more than that.

“What kept you?”

I startled, Jourdain taking me by surprise as he stepped into my view, his eyes sweeping me from head to toe, as if he expected me to have a scratch. Which almost struck me as humorous, because three days ago, we had ridden into battle with Isolde Kavanagh, Maevana’s rightful queen. I had donned armor, streaked blue woad across my face, braided my hair, and wielded a sword in Isolde’s name, not knowing if I was going to live through the revolution. But I had fought for her, as had Cartier and Jourdain, and with her to challenge Gilroy Lannon, a man who should never have been king of this land. Together, we had brought him and his family down in the span of a morning, a bloody yet victorious sunrise.

And now Jourdain was acting as if I had been darting through battle once more. All because I was late for dinner.

I had to remind myself to be understanding. I was not accustomed to fatherly fussing—I had lived my entire life not knowing who my blood father was. And, oh, how regretfully I knew now who I had descended from; I pushed his name from my mind, focusing instead on the man standing before me, the man who had adopted me as his own months ago, when the two of us joined our knowledge to plot a rebellion against King Lannon.

“Cartier and I had much to talk about. And don’t look at me like that, Father. We’re back in time,” I said, but my cheeks warmed under Jourdain’s attentive scrutiny. And when he shifted his eyes to Cartier, I think he knew. Cartier and I had not been merely “talking.”

I irresistibly thought back to that moment when I had stood with Cartier in his dilapidated castle on Morgane lands, when he had given me my passion cloak at last.

“Yes, well, I told you to be back before dark, Brienna,” Jourdain said, and then he softened his tone when he addressed Cartier. “Morgane. Nice of you to join us for a celebratory feast.”

“Thank you for extending the invitation, MacQuinn,” Cartier returned with a respectful bow of his head.

It was odd to hear such names spoken aloud, for they didn’t align as such within my mind. And while others would begin to address Cartier as Lord Aodhan Morgane, I would always think of him as Cartier.

Then there was Jourdain, my patron-turned-father. When I had met him two months ago, he had introduced himself as Aldéric Jourdain, his Valenian alias. But, like Cartier, he was far more than that. He was Lord Davin MacQuinn the Steadfast. And while others would begin to address him as such, I would call him “Father,” and would always think of him as Jourdain.

“Come, the two of you.” Jourdain led us up to the dais, where the lord’s family was to sit and sup at a long table.

Cartier winked at me when Jourdain’s back was angled to us, and I had to swallow a smile of pure joy.

“There you are!” Luc cried as he entered the hall through one of the side doors, his gaze finding me on the dais.

The young girls paused in their pine-and-flower arrangements to giggle and whisper as Luc passed them. His dark brown hair was in disarray, which was a daily occurance, and his eyes were bright with mirth.

He clomped up the dais stairs to sweep me into an embrace, acting as if we had been apart for months although I had seen him earlier that afternoon. He took me by the shoulders and turned me about, so he could see the silver threads stitched upon my passion cloak.

“Mistress Brienna,” he said. I turned back around and laughed, to finally hear the title linked to my name. “It’s a beautiful cloak.”

“Yes, well, I waited long enough for it, I should think,” I replied, helplessly glancing to Cartier.

“Which constellation is it?” Luc asked. “I fear I am rather horrible with astronomy.”

“It is Aviana.”

I was a mistress of knowledge now, something I had labored years at Magnalia House to achieve. And in that moment, standing in Jourdain’s hall in Maevana, surrounded by family and friends, wearing my passion cloak, with Isolde Kavanagh about to return to the northern throne … I could not have been more satisfied.

As we all sat down, I watched Jourdain, a golden chalice in his hands, his face carefully guarded as he surveyed his people entering the hall for dinner. I wondered what he was feeling, to finally come home after being gone for those twenty-five years of terror, to wade back into his role of lord to these people.

I knew the truth of his life, of his Maevan past as well as his Valenian one.

He had been born in this castle as a noble son of Maevana. He had inherited the lands and people of MacQuinn, striving to protect them as he was forced to serve the horrible King Gilroy Lannon. I knew Jourdain had witnessed terrible things in the king’s hall—he had seen hands and feet cut off of men who could not pay the full amount of their taxes, had seen old men lose an eye for looking at the king for too long, had heard women scream from distant chambers as they were beaten, had seen children scourged for making a sound when they should have been quiet. I watched it, Jourdain had once confessed to me, pale from the memory. I watched it, afraid to speak out.

Until he had finally decided to rebel, to take down Gilroy Lannon and put a rightful queen back upon the northern throne, to snuff out the darkness and the terror that had become the once-glorious Maevana.

Two other Maevan Houses had joined his secret revolution—the Kavanaghs, who had been the one magical House of Maevana and the origin of queens, and the Morganes. But Maevana was a land of fourteen Houses, as diverse as the land, each holding their own strengths and weaknesses. Yet only three dared to defy the king.

I think it was doubt that held most of the lords and ladies back, because two precious artifacts were missing: the Stone of Eventide, which gave the Kavanaghs their magical power, and the Queen’s Canon, which was the law that declared no king was to ever sit upon Maevana’s throne. Without the stone and the Canon, how was the rebellion ever going to completely overthrow Gilroy Lannon, who was deeply rooted on the throne?

But twenty-five years ago, MacQuinn, Kavanagh, and Morgane had united and stormed the royal castle, prepared to wage war. The success for the coup depended on taking Lannon by surprise, which was spoiled when my biological father, Lord Allenach, learned of the rebellion and ultimately betrayed them.

Gilroy Lannon was waiting for Jourdain and his followers.

He targeted and killed the women of each family, knowing it would take the heart out of the lords.

But what Gilroy Lannon did not anticipate was for three of the children to survive: Luc. Isolde. Aodhan. And because they did, the three defying lords fled with their children to the neighboring country of Valenia.

They took on Valenian names and professions; they discarded their mother tongue of Dairine for the Valenian language of Middle Chantal; they buried their swords and their northern sigils and their anger. And they hid, raising their children to be Valenian.

But what most did not know … Jourdain never stopped planning to return and dethrone Lannon. He and the other two fallen lords met once a year, never losing faith that they could rise again and be successful.

They had Isolde Kavanagh, who was destined to become queen.

They had the desire and the courage to revolt once again.

They had the wisdom of years on their side, as well as the painful lesson from the first failure.

And yet they were still missing two things that were vital: the Stone of Eventide and the Queen’s Canon.

That was when I joined them, for I had inherited memories from a distant ancestor who had buried the magical stone centuries ago. If I could recover the stone, magic would return to the Kavanaghs, and the other Maevan Houses might join our revolution at last.

And that was exactly what I had done.

All of this had happened mere days and weeks ago, and yet it felt like it had happened very long ago, like I was looking back upon all of it through fractured glass, even though I was still bruised and battered from battle and secrets and betrayals, from discovering the truth of my own Maevan heritage.

I sighed, let my reveries fall away as I continued to regard Jourdain sitting at the table.

His dark auburn hair was pulled back by a ribbon, which made him look Valenian, but a circlet crowned his head, a glimmer of light. He was dressed in simple black breeks and a leather jerkin with a golden falcon stitched over the breast, the proud sigil of his House. There was still a cut on his cheek from the battle, slowly healing. A testament of what we had just endured.

Jourdain glanced down into his chalice, and I finally saw it—the flicker of uncertainty, the doubt in himself, the haunting unworthiness—and I took a goblet of cider and drew out the chair close to his, to sit at his side.

I had grown up in the company of five other ardens at Magnalia House, five girls who had become like sisters to me. Yet these past few months surrounded by men had thoroughly taught me about their natures, or, more important, how fragile their hearts and egos were.

I remained quiet at first, and we watched his people bring forth steaming platters of food, setting them down on the tables. I began to notice it, though; quite a few of the MacQuinns talked in hushed tones, like they were still afraid to be overheard. Their clothes were clean but threadbare, their faces deeply grooved from years of hard labor, decades absent of smiles. Several of the boys were even sneaking slivers of ham from the platter, stuffing the food in their pockets, as if they were accustomed to being hungry.

And it was going to take time for the fear to fade, for the men and women and children of this land to heal and find restoration.

“Does this all feel like a dream to you, Father?” I eventually whispered to Jourdain, when I felt the weight of our silence.

“Hmm.” Jourdain’s favorite sound, which meant he was agreeing in half. “Some moments it does. Until I look for Sive and realize she is no longer here. Then it feels like reality.”

Sive, his wife.

I could not help but imagine what she had been like, a woman of valor, of bravery, riding into battle all those years ago, sacrificing her life.

“I wish I had known her,” I said, sadness filling my heart. I was familiar with such a feeling; I had lived with it for many years, this longing for a mother.

My own mother had been Valenian, having died when I was three. But my father had been Maevan. Sometimes, I felt broken between these two countries: the passion of the south, the sword of the north. I wanted to belong here with Jourdain, with the MacQuinn people, but when I thought of my paternal blood … when I remembered that Brendan Allenach, lord as he was traitor, was my blood father … I wondered how I could ever be accepted here, in this castle that he had terrorized.

“What does this feel like to you, Brienna?” Jourdain asked.

I thought for a moment, savoring the golden warmth of the firelight and the happiness that swelled in Jourdain’s people as they began to gather around the tables. I listened to the music Luc spun on his violin, melodious and sweet, rousing smiles from the men and women and children, and I leaned toward Jourdain, to rest my head upon his shoulder.

And so I gave him the answer that he needed to hear, not the one that I fully felt yet.

“It feels like coming home.”

I didn’t realize how ravenous I was until the food was set down, platters of roasted meats and herb-sprinkled vegetables, breads softened by butter, pickled fruits, and plates of sliced cheese with different-colored rinds. I piled more food than I could possibly handle onto my plate.

While Jourdain was preoccupied with speaking to the men and women who continually ascended the dais to formally greet him, Luc pulled his chair around so he could face Cartier and me.

“Yes?” I prompted when Luc continued to smile at us.

“I want to know the truth,” he said.

“About what, brother?”

Luc cocked his brow. “About how the two of you knew each other! And why you never said anything about it! During our planning meetings … how did you not know? As far as the rest of our rebel group went, we all believed you two were strangers.”

I kept my eyes on Luc, but I felt Cartier’s gaze shift to me.