Havok Publishing

Tag - kings &/or queens

S6 Daily Genre Banner - FF

Sword Fight With A Crab

I go to the beach to escape committing more murder.
I take in the ocean’s revitalizing air to think clearly. The salty waves sting the broken blisters on my feet. I dip my hands into the water, wishing I could wash the metaphorical blood from them, and the coldness sends shivers over my body.

Read it now
S6 Daily Genre Banner - WW

Father’s Blessing

When you plan to murder a monarch, the last creature you should ever tell is a tree.
Yes, every peasant child knows you can’t trust oaks, but I had to get the woods involved. You see, fae kings are notoriously bad at dying, and it would be unacceptable for a man of my station

Read it now
S6 Daily Genre Banner - FF

Mirror Mirror, Me

The face in the crystalline mirror is nothing like what I remember. Cold eyes, a crown of perfectly pressed hair, expression like fine stone glazed in ice.
No one told me becoming the fae Queen would be like… this.
I strain to catch even the slightest glimpse of fire in the depths of her eyes

Read it now
S6 Daily Genre Banner - TH

Compromising Positions

The carriage rolled into sight, its glossy emblem flashing like a beacon on its side. A loud crack split the deceptive quiet of the forest as the front wheel fell into a concealed hole.
“Now!” Elsie yelled.
A couple dozen bodies emerged from their hiding places and descended on the conveyance and outlying guards

Read it now

Throned

Once again, Diah was breaking into her own palace. She huffed, edging along the shadowed side of her castle. How many times had she done this? Seven? Ten? She was losing count.
She paused and ran her hands along the cold stone wall until she found the deep grooves that had been cut precisely

Read it now
S2 Fantasy Friday featured image (season 2)

The Queen and I

“You’ve been gone so long, milady. We thought you might never come back.” Agnes smooths out my blankets, rumpled from my restless sleep. “How was your stay in the country?” She sounds nonchalant, but shoots me a covert glance.
Does she know?
Beeswax sweetens the air, and I lurch from my chair

Read it now

The Hunt

Morning light filtered through the jungle mist, bedewing the dirt below and the life teeming within it. Kithoor adjusted her weight in the saddle and pressed her bare, malachite-hued legs against the sides of her mount. Snorting, the scaly, barbed monstrosity turned its crested head. He clawed the mud and bellowed.

Read it now

The Bloodiest Sword is King

When the stranger reached fifteen paces, Xildar called, “Friend or foe?”
“Neither.” The voice peaked like an unripened boy. A fabric hat framed most of his face—a face about eighteen years in the making. His teeth were exceptionally white. His leather and linen clothing might’ve been made by the seamstress who’d fashioned Xildar’s attire.

Read it now