The life Anghara knows has ended; everyone she loved is dead or doomed. And now she must flee far from her home or die at the hands of her half-brother Sif. A defenseless child is adrift in an unfamiliar world, pursued by the minions of a false king whose brutality knows no bounds. But Anghara has a great destiny that reaches beyond the borders of the troubled realm she must one day rule -- and a miraculous gift to be awakened in secret and fortified in a distant desert land at once beautiful, mysterious, and perilous: an awesome and frightening power called Sight.

The Hidden Queen

HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.

Chapter One

"One. Already -- and he was Anghara's."

Rima, Red Dynan's widowed queen, paced herchambers, lacing restless fingers in and out of one another inpalpable frustration.

"How, my lady?"

"Poison, they think. The healers who tended him say he diedin great pain. And now there are six in council. And I can besure of only two." She looked up, her eyes haunted. "Howlong, March? How long before some poisoned sweet is handedto Anghara? I cannot be with her constantly, I cannot protecther all the time, not while I am trying to save her throne!"

March, the queen's man from long before her marriage,stirred from where he stood staring into the leaping flameson the great stone hearth. "It might not be too much longer,"he said carefully. "There has been other news."

"What? When? Why wasn't I told?"

March smiled, an indulgent smile from an old retainer fora mistress he had known from her cradle. "You are the first toknow, my lady. The messenger arrived less than an hour ago."

Rima crossed the room and stood before him. She had tolook up at his face; she had always been physically frail,small-boned, almost bird-like. In moments of tenderness,Dynan used to call her his little sparrow. But there was thatin her face right now, which would make many a man twiceher size tread lightly. "The message?"

"They are coming. They are coming here, for Miranei, forthe throne. Sif will never be content with less, not with thearmy behind him. We knew this would happen."

"Damn Kalas!" murmured Rima, looking away into thefire. "Now, when I needed him most, he lies dying. Hewould never have given Sif the army."

"They won the second battle," March pointed out. "PerhapsFodrun knew what he was doing."

Rima made an impatient gesture. "Tath!" she said. "Theyhave always been a thorn in our side. Our men were not thatwanting. If only Fodrun hadn't lost heart. If only . . ."

They both knew if only what. If Dynan had lived . . . Butif Dynan had lived, Sif would have still been waiting for hischance. Now at least he had declared himself, as openly ashe could; his first act of defiance was to claim his father forhimself, and for Clera, his mother. It was to Clera's manorthat the messenger bearing the news of Dynan's death hadgone, not to Miranei. Rima had known of it, probably as ithad happened; she was Sighted, and gifted that way. She hadknown, perhaps, that she would never see Dynan again whenshe had girded his sword on him for this battle. But Sif hadsent her no official messenger. What she could not haveforeseen was just how fast things would fall apart at Miranei,after one of the squires had galloped from the battlefieldat Ronval to gasp out the news of Dynan's death andSif's bid for the kingdom.

Rima had always been very good at hiding her feelings.Her court face was a carefully cultivated mask, pleasant,pretty, interested, a little abstracted -- people said a lot in thepresence of someone who seemed not to be listening half thetime, and not fully comprehending what she heard evenwhen she did pay attention. They had always thought herweak, the council lords and those who jostled for favors atDynan's flanks. But here, in the presence of someone whomshe trusted and who would not have been fooled for an instantwith her court pretenses, Rima allowed her true feelingsto percolate across her features. March, watching theplay of emotion there, smiled, a little grimly. The court wasabout to learn how badly they had underestimated Dynan's"little sparrow."

"They have accepted Anghara as queen, in full council,"Rima was saying softly.

"And when they see Dynan's own banners on the moorsbefore Miranei?" said March.

Rima glanced up briefly, acknowledging the question asone she had pondered herself. "I must get them to seal theirvows. In writing. Now, while I can still control the council.You say nobody knows of Sif's coming as yet?"

"Nobody, my lady."

"Good. Make sure the messenger is rewarded for histrouble -- I am sure he is another whose interests do not liewith Sif -- but don't let him speak to anyone until I havedone with the council. Where is he now?"

"I told him to wait in my chambers, my lady."

They exchanged conspiratorial smiles. "Keep him there,"Rima said, "for the time being. And tell the stewards to convenethe council. Now, within the hour."

March made her a slight bow and turned to leave. Hervoice stopped him even as he reached for the door. "March."

"My lady?"

"Which of Anghara's ladies do you think we can trust?"

March considered this. A little too long; Rima's mouththinned. Had it really come to this? That she couldn't findone of her daughter's ladies who would be loyal to the futureQueen of Roisinan? But March met her eyes steadilyenough. "I would think Lady Catlin, or Lady Nessa. I wouldkeep Lady Deira as far from any secret plan as I could."

Rima smiled despite herself. Deira was an elderly gossip,to whom one could entrust any rumor one wanted spreadaround Miranei and the surrounding countryside within thespace of a single day. The warning was well-placed. Therewas an equal warning in March's words, though, in the twonames he had omitted to mention. Those who might sellAnghara, if they had the chance. Rima considered the twoladies March had named for a brief moment, while hewaited patiently by the door for further instructions."Catlin," she decided finally. "Send Lady Catlin to me. And make sure Anghara is attended by Lady Nessa at all times,when Catlin or I are not with her."

Excerpted from The Hidden Queenby Alma Alexander Copyright © 2006 by Alma Alexander. Excerpted by permission.
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