From the New York Times bestselling author of Dealing with Dragons comes this timeless fantasy, about an ordinary girl who discovers she’s the heir to a dark throne, and must find her place between her life on Earth and her magical inheritance.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and the first chapter from Patricia C. Wrede’s The Dark Lord’s Daughter, which is out September 5th!
Kayla is just an ordinary girl . . . or so she thinks. When a day at the state fair is interrupted by the news that she’s the daughter of a “Dark Lord,” she and her family are quickly whisked to another world—one that’s chock-full of magic but lacking in technology!
As her family encounters fantastical creatures in place of their Earthly gadgets, Kayla must prepare for the unpreparable: meeting her father, the Dark Lord himself, for the very first time. All Kayla wants is to go home, but she must learn magic to do so. The catch? For the Dark Lord’s daughter, the road to mastering magic is filled with evil traditions.
As she ventures closer to her father, Kayla must decide whether to accept her birthright. Is she destined for darkness? Or can she become a new kind of Dark Lady?
Chapter 1
So You Are a Potential Dark Lord
According to popular belief, the ability to utilize Dark magic can erupt anywhere, at any time, in anyone. In practice, Dark power is nearly always inherited, though sometimes from a remote ancestor. — Introduction to The Dark Traditions
The long line moved slowly across the bus parking lot toward the entrance gates of the State Fair. Halfway up the line, fourteen-year-old Kayla Jones scowled absently at a spot where the green glitter nail polish had slopped over the side of her fingernail. She’d been hoping to come to the State Fair with someone besides family this year, but Madison and her other friends had lost touch when Kayla’s family moved to the apartment, and she hadn’t made new ones yet.
Besides, the fair had been a Jones family tradition as far back as Kayla could remember, and family traditions had kept them going for the last four years. Mostly small ones, like Saturday morning pancakes and the weekly visit to the park by Lake Nokomis, but Rikita Jones managed at least one big event every three or four months, no matter how dire their other circumstances. So here they were: Kayla, with her adoptive mother and brother, standing in line at nine in the morning.
“You could at least have let us sleep late,” she muttered at Riki’s back.
“What?” Riki started to turn, then paused. “No, Del, we’re not stopping at the cookie barn first thing. It’s too early, and you’re wired enough without adding sugar.”
“Can I get a turkey leg, then?” Del begged. “Or the roast corn? Those are healthy. Or no, I want the deep-fried alligator on a stick!”
“You just had breakfast!” Riki said in tones of despair. “How can you want more food already?”
“You only want the alligator because you think it sounds neat,” Kayla told her younger brother.
Del gave her a wide-eyed look and bounced on the heels of his running shoes with ten-year-old energy. “So? That’s why they
bring it up here to sell, isn’t it? There aren’t any alligators in Minnesota. Can I have some, Mom?”
“Maybe later.” Riki adjusted her sunglasses and tipped her maroon-and-gold baseball cap a little higher on her thick black curls. “Kayla honey, are you sure you don’t want a hat? I brought extras.” She raised her bulging canvas tote bag.
Kayla squinted at the sky. The hazy, cloudless blue of late August promised the fair’s traditional hot and humid weather, but in a moment of insanity two weeks before, she’d had Riki cut her dark hair mercilessly short, and wearing a baseball cap over it made her look like a boy. More like a boy. “Maybe later,” she echoed.
The line inched forward; Kayla shifted her backpack and closed the gap. Delmar bounced on his heels again and asked,
“Can we start on the Midway? I want to do the frog toss.”
“No!” Kayla said before their mother could answer. Standing around watching Del toss frog-shaped beanbags at plastic lily pads in an attempt to win one of the stuffed animals had been boring enough last year, when it was a new game.
Riki frowned. “Kayla!”
“Fine, but if he wins another giant stuffed penguin, I’m not carrying it around all day!”
Riki’s expression went thoughtful. “Good point. Maybe on our way out, Del.” “Awww.”
“Quit whining. What are you, five?” Kayla said.
Del subsided—for the moment—and they moved forward again. They had almost reached the security screening, and Riki was fishing in her canvas tote for the advance tickets.
“Do you think Dad would have come with us?” Del asked. “To the fair, I mean.”
“Del!” Kayla shot a quick glance at their mother’s back, but Del had kept his voice down and Riki was absorbed in her ticket hunt. Del had only been six when cancer killed Michael Jones, and Kayla often thought that it was highly unfair that she, the adopted child, should be the one with many clear memories of their father, while Del, the unlooked-for biological offspring, had only a few blurry mental images and whatever he could piece together from photos and the things Kayla and Riki told him.
“Dad would have made us come three or four times,” she told Del quietly. “Maybe every day.” She hesitated. “And he’d have been really excited about that penguin you won last year.”
Del grinned. “Thanks, Kayla.” He opened his mouth as if he wanted to ask something else, but Riki turned and he snapped his lips closed. Kayla suppressed a relieved sigh. Even after four years, mentioning their father was still as likely as not to put Riki in a gloomy mood, but Del didn’t always remember to avoid the subject.
Riki hadn’t noticed; she was still digging through her tote bag and muttering. “Discount coupon book, ibuprofen, tissues, cell phone, water . . . Kayla, your backpack is nearly empty. Would you take one of these bottles?”
“I left it empty on purpose, Mom!” Kayla grumbled, but she accepted two of the plastic containers and stowed them away. At least they were only a temporary load.
They reached the screener, who checked the tote and backpack with brisk efficiency, scanned their tickets, and passed them through the gate without comment. The red brick of the grandstand loomed on their left, a tall, dark contrast to the one-story display buildings, small stages, and food booths that lined the street beside it. To the right stretched the rides and games of the Midway. Even this early in the day, it was all bright colors and motion, shrieking riders and rumbling machinery. The smell of machine oil mingled with the scents of dust, people, strange foods being deep-fried, beer, and animals—a little of everything, like the fair itself.
Straight ahead, over the sea of baseball caps and sun hats, Kayla could see the Warner Coliseum and the animal barns. She had always liked those, but she knew better than to suggest starting there. They’d been Michael’s favorite, too, and Riki hadn’t taken them back even once since his death.
The bungee ball ride flew into sight above the treetops, the round cage with its two screaming occupants trailing the four elastic ropes that flung it up and then slowed its fall. Delmar’s eyes widened. “Mom! Can we do that?”
“I don’t think it’s safe,” Riki said. “Or in the budget. And anyway, you aren’t tall enough.”
“You just don’t want me to have any fun!”
“Of course not,” Riki told him. “That’s part of my job, to keep you from having fun. It’s in the parenting handbook.”
“I thought we were going to do the Midway stuff last,” Kayla said, hoping to sidetrack the discussion before it turned into an argument. She looked around for a distraction that didn’t involve food, memories of better times, or anything that would have to be carried around for the rest of the day. “Hey, what about the Skyride? We could take it down to the far end of the fair and walk back.”
After a quick check of the coupon book, Riki approved this program, though Del complained that the Skyride was just a fancy chair lift and didn’t compare to the bungee ball. The line was short; they paid for the discounted tickets and were soon soaring over the fair in a glass-and-steel box barely large enough for the three of them. Kayla’s bad mood began to fade. Del pressed his nose to the glass, commenting on the booths and rides and people below. By the time they reached the ground at the other end, he had a dozen places he wanted to visit, including at least six food vendors, the parade lineup, the giant slide, and a couple of open stages.
They ducked into the Horticulture Building to see the crop art. For several years, Kayla had publicly maintained that gluing seeds to boards to make pictures was more of a kindergarten activity than something for adults; privately, she was amazed by the detail people achieved. This year, there was a three-foot picture of a Lakota Indian in full traditional garb that was especially impressive—and she was secretly glad that Riki insisted on keeping the exhibit on her list of fair “must do” activities.
They skipped the rest of the horticulture exhibits (who wanted to look at row after row of apples and corn and dried beans?) and crossed the street to the International Bazaar. The first booth had a row of leather backpacks on display. Kayla eyed them wistfully, but she knew better than to ask. Even at discounted State Fair prices, they couldn’t afford one.
They browsed the booths, which sold everything from dashikis to Russian nesting dolls. When Del started to get bored, they made a quick stop to cash in the coupon for a bag of cinnamon-sugared almonds at the spiced- nut booth. The bag went into Riki’s tote for later, and they headed back toward the exit from the bazaar.
On the way out, a man in a black-and-white cow costume was handing out sample packets of beef jerky and brochures advertising some event by the animal barns. Del collected three of the packets, one for each of them, though he was clearly only interested in the food. Riki pursed her lips but stowed two of the packets in her tote without comment, and they made it to the main street without further incident.
In the brief time they’d spent at the bazaar, the crowd outside had doubled. “Stay close,” Riki told them. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”
“Hey, mini donuts!” Del said around a bite of beef jerky. He looked at his mother hopefully. “We can’t come to the fair and not have mini donuts!”
“You already have something,” Riki pointed out with a grin. “Pace yourself.” She looked around and headed for an information booth just up the block. Kayla trailed along behind with a sinking feeling. Sure enough, Riki was asking about the Home Improvement building.
“Mom!” she objected. “Could you find anywhere more boring in the whole fair?”
“They always have special State Fair deals,” Riki replied. “And they might have something we can use in the new apartment. Besides, going through one of the boring grown-up buildings is
an essential part of the fair experience.” “Like the Midway?” Del said.
“All right, Del, we’ll head back that way after I’m done,” Riki promised.
“Can I just wait here?” Kayla asked. “There’s a bench.” Without waiting for a response, she sat down and reached into her backpack.
“No,” Riki said. “It’s a couple of blocks each way; I don’t want you sitting here alone for that long. Besides, you’ll get bored.”
“I’ll be fine.” Kayla pulled out her new school-issued tablet computer. She’d only had it for a couple of days, so she hadn’t gotten it fully customized yet, but she’d installed all the operating system upgrades, the encyclopedia app, and most of her music.
“Oh, honey, you didn’t bring that thing with you to the fair!” Riki sounded as if she couldn’t decide whether she was amused or horrified.
Kayla looked at the tablet, then waved it up and down a couple of times. “Looks real to me,” she said. “Wake up, Macavinchy.”
The tablet’s screen lit, and a deep male voice with a British accent said, “Good morning, madam. What can I do for you?”
Kayla grinned at her mother’s startled expression. She’d spent two hours last night listening to different voice files before she found one she liked enough to download. The Wi-Fi connection lit up, so before her mother could object, she asked, “Macavinchy, where are the best household deals at the Minnesota State Fair?”
“Kayla, really, that’s—”
The screen cleared and a list appeared of booths demonstrating everything from siding and windows to hot tubs and plastic furniture. “There, Mom,” Kayla said, holding up the tablet so she could see.
“Would you like to view these locations on a map?” Macavinchy asked after a moment.
“Uh, that one,” Riki said, pointing.
“Macavinchy, show me where the George’s Sturdy Modern Antiques booth is at the Minnesota State Fair,” Kayla told the computer.
“Why did you give your computer a stupid name?” Del asked, peering over the back of the bench.
“I like it,” Kayla said. “And if you think it’s stupid, it’s probably the best idea ever.”
“No arguing,” Riki said absently. She was peering at the map on the computer screen, then at the buildings around them.
“Macavinchy, add current location,” Kayla said.
“Of course, madam.” A bright red dot appeared a little south of the blue arrow that marked George’s Sturdy Modern Antiques.
“If you got a smartphone, it would do that,” Del pointed out to their mother.
“Smartphones are expensive,” Riki said absently, “and the flip phone works fine.”
“Your flip phone is purple,” Del said in disgust.
“It’s lavender, and a new one is still expensive.” Riki studied the map for another minute, then smiled. “It’s two blocks north and one over. Come on, you two. I get to look at furniture, and then each of you can pick something to do next.”
“Fine. Good night, Macavinchy,” Kayla said, and stuffed the tablet back into her backpack. She’d really been hoping to play with it, but avoiding the Home Improvement building was worth a lot. Even if they had to watch while Riki grilled the furniture people, it was only one booth, not a whole building’s worth of displays.
They headed up the street, which was already crowded. As they approached the first corner, they heard the loud, buzzing crackle that accompanied someone talking into a microphone that had been turned up too high. “It’s a TV spot!” Del said, and surged forward.
Kayla and Riki followed. They caught up with him on the far side of the street near a small stage. At the back of the stage, a large screen was running previews of the new fall season; in front of it, three rows of wooden benches filled the boulevard. The benches were half-full of unusually attentive fairgoers. The announcer with the too-loud microphone stood at the near corner of the stage, next to a row of people who apparently represented characters from the various shows on the screen. The first was a man in a purple face mask and spangled tights; next to him stood a woman in a white lab coat, a teenage girl with blue hair, and a man in an old-fashioned frock coat carrying a riding crop. The last one was a muscular blond man wearing chain mail, with a large sword strapped to his back. The preview that was playing showed someone similar battling hordes of people in black armor.
Del squinted at the stage, then at the screen. “They aren’t the real actors,” he said in disappointment. “Come on,” Riki said. “We can see this at home.” “We can’t see live people,” Del objected.
The preview screen flashed through a string of images and ended with “Coming to New Adventure Television next week!” as the actors onstage started waving. The overamplified announcer said something garbled, and the people in the front rows stood up and started collecting their belongings. “There,” Riki said. “It’s over. Where’s that furniture place again?”
Kayla consulted her tablet. “Up that way, just around the corner.” She pointed past the far corner of the stage, where the Creative Activities building was just visible beyond a display of water purifiers. Riki nodded and stood. Kayla stowed the tablet, shouldered her backpack, and followed.
Or rather, tried to follow. The little seating area was gridlocked, as half the people who’d been watching the TV display turned to leave while the other half tried to move toward the stage. It took Kayla and her family several minutes to work their way to the outer edge of the crowd. Delmar spent the time craning his neck in an attempt to see what was going on up front. “They’re taking pictures!” Del said as they fought free of the crowd at last. “Can
I get one?”
“No, Del,” Riki said. “We stopped to watch; that’s enough.”
“But it was almost over! We hardly got to see anything.”
“What do you want a picture for?” Kayla said. “They’re not the actors from the shows. You said so yourself.”
“Yeah, but that guy with the sword is awesome. And the one on the end has a mask; nobody will know it’s not the real actor. Come on, Mom!”
They had reached the end of the row of benches; just ahead, they could clearly see the crowd around each of the actors. “Well, I don’t know,” Riki said in the tone that meant she was about to give in. “I think—”
“My lady!” boomed a deep voice, and a tall figure appeared from behind the stage. He wore a flowing black cloak that reached the backs of his knees. His face was hidden beneath a full black helmet painted with a crudely drawn red skull, and one black-gloved hand rested on the hilt of a curved sword hanging from his belt. He looked like an extra from one of Delmar’s favorite fantasy movies; the only false note was the body armor under the cloak, which strongly resembled a police riot vest painted with overlapping green and black half circles.
“My lady, I have found you!”
People turned to watch as the costumed man moved swiftly forward and went to one knee in front of Kayla. Startled, Kayla recoiled half a step and bumped into her mother. “It’s just part of the show,” Riki said in her ear. She patted Kayla’s shoulder reassuringly. “Be a sport and play along.” “Uh, who are you?” Kayla asked.
“I am Waylan, second commander of the Dark Hordes of Zaradwin, my lady,” the man said. “For ten years, ever since your father fell in battle at the hands of the Legions of Light, I have labored to find you. Now you will return, to take your father’s throne and rebuild the armies of Darkness!” He stretched one hand out toward Kayla, and she saw something glowing red in the palm of his glove. It was making a high-pitched noise, just at the edge of her hearing, like a malfunctioning radio. She tried to back up and bumped into her mother again; Riki put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.
“This sounds like the best show ever!” Del announced. “Are you the villain? Can I look at your sword?” Without waiting for an answer, he started for the kneeling man. Riki put her other hand out and caught his shoulder just as Waylan’s reaching hand touched Kayla’s.
The noise rose to a high whine and the red light expanded, turning the stage and the fairgoers into a black-and-red still life and shutting off all sound. Real life isn’t supposed to have a pause button, Kayla thought, and then the light faded, taking the fair with it. Kayla tried to jerk away but found that she could not move. For a long, panic-stricken moment, she stood frozen with only her mother, Delmar, and the kneeling man.
Slowly, gray light began to filter through the darkness, like the light at the height of a thunderstorm. Dim, blurry shapes moved in the shadows, circling the way sharks on the nature programs circled the divers’ cages. The high-pitched whine lowered a tone. Underneath the whine, Kayla heard snatches of voices, too indistinct for her to make out words.
One of the shapes pushed forward out of the group and paused. Now that it was holding still, Kayla could see that it was part darkness and part light, like the shadow of a tall, thin person cast on a floor that was covered in golden glitter. It reached out and brushed Kayla’s wrist briefly. Its touch was cold and hot at the same time, and made her hands tingle. She tried to flinch, but the force that held her motionless would not allow it. The shape paused and seemed to nod, then moved back toward the shifting circle around them.
The light grew stronger. The circling shapes faded into fog, and the fog slowly cleared. The voices became fainter, then vanished. The high-pitched whine died, leaving behind an absolute silence, and Kayla found that she could move again.
Before she could do more than take a deep breath, her mother dragged her backward, away from the kneeling man, hard enough and fast enough to make Kayla stumble. “What—” She looked up and froze.
They stood in the exact center of a circle of bare dirt at least twenty feet across. A double ring of massive gray stones, set about four feet apart, marked the outer edge of the circle. Each stone was at least three times Kayla’s height, and each was a slightly different shape, as if the circle builders had used whatever giant rocks they could find. But every stone was the same dark, shadowy gray, flecked with sparkles and marked with thin black lines running top to bottom. They reminded Kayla of the shadowy shapes in the between-place.
Through the gaps between the stones, Kayla could see sparse grass and empty fields stretching in all directions. The cool air smelled sour and musty, like a basement that hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. Gray clouds blanketed the sky, except for a thin strip of light on the horizon to her right.
She saw no sign of the fair buildings or the crowd, but in the distance off to the left was a line of black, leafless trees that might once have been the edge of a forest. Beyond, a steep-sided mountain loomed, crowned by a black tower with a pointed circular roof. “Oh no,” Kayla muttered.
“Welcome, my lady!” Waylan rose to his feet and bowed deeply. “Welcome to Zaradwin!”
