The Queen of Nothing (The Folk of the Air #3) - Holly Black
Praise for THE FOLK OF THE AIR series
‘Brilliantly enjoyable … Definitely Holly Black’s best so far.’
Amanda Craig
‘An enticing world that’s as sinister as it is appealing … Shadowhunters fans should read this at their earliest opportunity.’
SciFi Now magazine
‘A veritable queen of dark fantasy, Holly Black spins a thrilling tale of intrigue and magic … Unmissable for fans of Sarah J. Mass and the Grisha trilogy.’
Buzzfeed UK
‘Whatever a reader is looking for – heart-in-throat action, deadly romance, double-crossing, moral complexity – this is one heck of a ride.’
Booklist
‘Complex, nuanced characters, frank sensuality and thorn-sharp, intricate storytelling all conspire to ensnare.’
Guardian
‘Lush, dangerous, a dark jewel of a book … This delicious story will seduce you and leave you desperate for just one more page.’
Leigh Bardugo, No. 1 New York Times bestselling author of Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom
‘Holly Black is the Faerie Queen.’
Victoria Aveyard
‘A lush, immersive experience … where little is what it seems.’
Books for Keeps
‘This tale of a kingdom and deadly power struggles as seen through human eyes is an absolute must-read.’
Irish Independent
The Folk of the Air series
The Cruel Prince
The Wicked King
The Queen of Nothing
For Leigh Bardugo,
who never lets me get away with anything
The Royal Astrologer, Baphen, squinted at the star chart and tried not to flinch when it seemed sure the youngest prince of Elfhame was about to be dropped on his royal head.
A week after Prince Cardan’s birth and he was finally being presented to the High King. The previous five heirs had been seen immediately, still squalling in ruddy newness, but Lady Asha had barred the High King from visiting before she felt herself suitably restored from childbed.
The baby was thin and wizened, silent, staring at Eldred with black eyes. He lashed his little whiplike tail with such force that his swaddle threatened to come apart. Lady Asha seemed unsure how to cradle him. Indeed, she held him as though she hoped someone might take the burden from her very soon.
“Tell us of his future,” the High King prompted. Only a few Folk were gathered to witness the presentation of the new prince—the mortal Val Moren, who was both Court Poet and Seneschal, and two members of the Living Council: Randalin, the Minister of Keys, and Baphen. In the empty hall, the High King’s words echoed.
Baphen hesitated, but he could do nothing save answer. Eldred had been favored with five children before Prince Cardan, shocking fecundity among the Folk, with their thin blood and few births. The stars had spoken of each little prince’s and princess’s fated accomplishments in poetry and song, in politics, in virtue, and even in vice. But this time what he’d seen in the stars had been entirely different. “Prince Cardan will be your last born child,” the Royal Astrologer said. “He will be the destruction of the crown and the ruination of the throne.”
Lady Asha sucked in a sharp breath. For the first time, she drew the child protectively closer. He squirmed in her arms. “I wonder who has influenced your interpretation of the signs. Perhaps Princess Elowyn had a hand in it. Or Prince Dain.”
Maybe it would be better if she dropped him, Baphen thought unkindly.
High King Eldred ran a hand over his chin. “Can nothing be done to stop this?”
It was a mixed blessing to have the stars supply Baphen with so many riddles and so few answers. He often wished he saw things more clearly, but not this time. He bowed his head so he had an excuse not to meet the High King’s gaze. “Only out of his spilled blood can a great ruler rise, but not before what I have told you comes to pass.”
Eldred turned to Lady Asha and her child, the harbinger of ill luck. The baby was as silent as a stone, not crying or cooing, tail still lashing.
“Take the boy away,” the High King said. “Rear him as you see fit.”
Lady Asha did not flinch. “I will rear him as befits his station. He is a prince, after all, and your son.”
There was a brittleness in her tone, and Baphen was uncomfortably reminded that some prophecies are fulfilled by the very actions meant to prevent them.
For a moment, everyone stood silent. Then Eldred nodded to Val Moren, who left the dais and returned holding a slim wooden box with a pattern of roots traced over the lid.
“A gift,” said the High King, “in recognition of your contribution to the Greenbriar line.”
Val Moren opened the box, revealing an exquisite necklace of heavy emeralds. Eldred lifted