And a battle that will determine the future of Elfhame.
Prince Oak is paying for his betrayal.
Its just a question of whom he will doom.
Image: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Heres the full cover, which was previously revealed, followed by the excerpt.
The cold of the prisons eats at Oaks bones, and the stink of iron scrapes his throat.
A kindness he didnt know how to interpret.
Image: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
No matter how tightly he wraps it around himself, though, he is seldom warm.
Twice each day he is brought food.
Water, often with a rime of ice on the surface.
Soup, hot enough to make him comfortable for a scant hour or so.
Once, he thought he recognized Wrens shadow, observing him from a distance.
He called to her, but she didnt answer.
Maybe shed never been there.
The iron muddles his thoughts.
Perhaps he only saw what he so desperately wanted to see.
She has not spoken with him since she sent him here.
Not even to use the bridle to command him.
Not even to gloat.
Sometimes he screams into the darkness, just to remind himself that he can.
These dungeons were built to swallow screams.
Today, he screams himself hoarse and then slumps against a wall.
Not even the loyal brother and son he meant to be when he set out from Elfhame.
Whatever he is, hes certainly no hero.
A guard stomps down the hall, driving Oak to his hooves.
One of the falcons.
The prince has overheard him at the gate before, complaining, not realizing his voice carries.
Wren, whose beauty Straun rhapsodizes over.
You there, the falcon says, drawing close.
Be quiet before I quiet you.
Ah, Oak realizes.
Hes so bored that he wants to make something happen.
I am merely trying to give this dungeon an authentic atmosphere, Oak says.
Whats a place like this without the cries of the tormented?
Soon, youll learn.
You should keep your screams.
Not just bored, then, but resentful of Madoc.
Oak steps close enough to the bars that he can feel the heat of the iron.
Does Wren intend to punish me, then?
Our queen has more important things to attend to than you.
Shes gone to the Stone Forest to wake the troll kings.
Oak stares at him, stunned.
Worry not, though.
The storm hag is still here.
Maybe shell send for you.
Her punishments are legendary.
With that, he walks back toward the gate.
Oak sags to the cold floor, furious and despairing.
You have to break out.
The thought strikes him forcefully.
You must find a way.
Not easy, that.
The iron bars burn.
The lock is hard to pick, though he tried once with a fork.
Not easy to escape.
And besides, maybe, after everything, Wren still might visit him.
He blinks in confusion, still half in dreams.
Then there is a tremble in the earth, as though something massive moved upon it.
It comes to him then that the Stone Forest is south of the Citadel.
The trembling is not something moving upon the earth but something disgorged from it.
She has released the troll kings from their bondage beneath the ground.
He can almost hear the cracking sound of the rocks that imprisoned them.
Fissures spiderwebbing out from two directions at once, from both boulders.
Tall as giants, shaking off all that had grown over them in their slumber.
Dirt and grass, small trees, and rocks would all rain down from their shoulders.
Wren had done it.
And since that is supposed to be impossible, the prince has no idea what she might do next.
Imagine you have a weapon.
They had been in Vivis second apartment, standing on a small metal balcony.
Inside, Taryn and Vivi had been fussing over Leander, who was learning to crawl.
Oak laughed, thinking the spy was being silly.
The Ghost conjured the illusion of a blade out of thin air, its hilt decorated with ivy.
His glamour was so good that Oak had to look closely to see that it wasnt real.
Your turn, prince.
Oak had actually liked making his own sword.
It was huge and black with a bright red hilt covered in demonish faces.
The sight of Oaks blade had made the Ghost smile, but he didnt laugh.
Instead, he started moving through a series of exercises, urging Oak to follow.
He told the prince should call him by his nonspy name, Garrett, since they were friends.
it’s possible for you to do this, the GhostGarretttold him.
When you have nothing else.
Nothing else to practice with, he probably meant.
Although right now, Oak has nothing else, full stop.
The exercises warm him just enough to be halfway comfortable when he wraps the blanket around his shoulders.
Long enough to dwell on every mistake he has made on his illfated quest.
What a fine jest, to look for Melliths heart when she walks beside you.
At the memory, Oak stands and paces the floor, his hooves clattering restlessly against the black stone.
He should have told her the truth.
Should have told her and accepted the consequences.
Instead, he convinced himself that keeping the secret of her origin protected her, but was that true?
Or was it more true that hed manipulated her, the way he manipulated everyone in his life?
That was what he was good at, after alltricks, games, insincerity.
His family must be in a panic right now.
He trusts that Tiernan got Madoc to Elfhame safely, no matter what the redcap general wanted.
Jude has been ruthless on Oaks behalf before, but this is the first time its scared him.
She is not someone to cross.
Neither of them are.
He recalls the press of Wrens sharp teeth against his shoulder.
It doesnt matter if you deserve to be in her prisons, he tells himself.
You still need to get out.
Sitting in the dark, he listens to the guards play dice games.
They have opened a jug of a particularly strong juniper liquor in celebration of Wrens accomplishment.
Straun is the loudest and drunkest of the bunch, and the one losing the most coin.
Oak dozes off and wakes to the tread of soft footfalls.
He surges to his hooves, moving as close to the iron bars as he dares.
A huldu woman comes into view, bearing a tray, her tail swishing behind her.
Disappointment is a pit in his stomach.
Fernwaif, he says, and her eyes go to his.
He can see the wariness in them.
You remember my name, she says, as though its some kind of trick.
As though princes have the attention spans of gnats.
Most certainly I do.
He smiles, and after a moment, she visibly relaxes, her shoulders lowering.
He wouldnt have noted that reaction before.
After all, smiles were supposed to reassure people.
Just maybe not quite so much as his smiles did.
Maybe you cant help it.
Maybe you do it without knowing.
Hed stuck to the rules Oriana had given him.
But sitting in the dark, he has reconsidered.
What if the power leaches out of him like a miasma?
What if he is a much worse person than hes supposed?
And as though to prove it, he presses his advantage, magical or not.
He smiles more broadly at Fernwaif.
I dont know if thats much of a compliment.
Shall I tell you instead that your hair is like spun gold, your eyes like sapphires?
I can do better, he says.
And perhaps you might bring me a little gossip to cheer the chilly monotony of my days.
Youre very silly, Your Highness, she says after a moment, biting her bottom lip a little.
His gaze travels, evaluating the pockets of her dress for the weight of keys.
I am, he agrees.
Silly enough to have gotten myself into this predicament.
I wonder if you could take a message to Wrto your new queen?
I dare not, she says, and he knows he ought to leave it at that.
He remembers Orianas warning to him when he was a child.
A power like the one you have is dangerous, she said.
you might know what other people most want to hear.
Say those things, and they will not only want to listen to you.
They will come to want you above all other things.
The love that a gancanagh inspiressome may pine away for desire of it.
Others will carve the gancanagh to pieces to be sure no one else has it.
He made a mistake when he first went to school in the mortal world.
And he knew just how.
It was easy; all he had to do was say the right things.
He remembers the taste of the power on his tongue, supplying words he didnt even understand.
Soccer and Minecraft, praise for the boys drawings.
Not lies, but nowhere near the truth, either.
Would just wait until he saw Oak again.
You see, I wish to let your queen know that I await her pleasure.
I am hers to command, and I hope she will come and do just that.
You dont want to be saved?
Shes the one teasing him now.
Shall I inform my mistress that you are so tame she can let you out?
Tell her that I am wasted in all this gloom.
Fernwaif laughs, her eyes shining as though Oak is a romantic figure in a tale.
She asked me to come today, the huldu girl confides in a whisper.
The first hopeful thing hes heard in a while.
Her cheeks are still pink with pleasure when she leaves, departing with light steps.
He can see the swish of her tail beneath her skirts.
Nicer food than usual.
And yet he finds he has little appetite for it.
All he can think of is Wren, whom he has every reason to fear and desires anyway.
Who may be his enemy and a danger to everyone else he loves.
Oak kicks his hoof against the stone wall of his cage.
Then he goes to pour himself a cup of the pine needle tea before it cools.
A forked emerald tongue tastes the air at regular intervals, like a metronome.
He has seen creatures like it before, forged by the great smiths of Faerie.
If he were dead, thered be no reason to pay a ransom.
He doesnt think his sister would allow it, but there are those who might risk going around her.
Grima Mog might look forward to the war it would start.
And, of course, she answered to Cardan as much as Jude.
Hello, he whispers warily to the snake.
It yawns widely enough for him to see silver fangs.
He leans down and lifts it.
A gold ring with a deep blue stone, scuffed with wear.
Proof that this creature was sent from Elfhame.
Proof that he was supposed to trust it.
Prinss, it says.
In three daysssss, you mussss be ready for ressssscue.
Not here to poison him, then.
The snake just stares with its cold, glittering eyes.
Many nights, he hoped someone would come for him.
But now that its a real possibility, hes surprised by how he feels.
Two more weeks perhaps.
If he could only talk to Wren, he could explain.
Maybe she wouldnt forgive him, but if she saw he wasnt her enemy, that would be enough.
Even convincing her that she didnt have to be an enemy to Elfhame would be something.
Three dayssssss, it says again.
Its enchantment is either too simple to decode his protests or it has been told to ignore them.
He jumps onto the bench and grabs for it, catching the end of its tail.
With a tug, it comes off the wall, falling against his body and coiling around his forearm.
Prinsssss, it hisses.
When it does not strike, Oak pries the snake carefully from around his arm.
Then, gripping the end of its tail firmly, he slams it down against the stone bench.
Hears the cracking of its delicate mechanical parts.
A gem flies off.
So does a piece of metal.
He whips it against the bench again.
A sound like the whistle of a teakettle comes from it, and its coils writhe.
He brings its body down hard twice more, until it is broken and utterly still.
Oak feels relieved and awful at the same time.
Perhaps it was no more alive than one of the ragwort steeds, but it had spoken.
It had seemed alive.
He sinks to the floor.
Inside the metal creature, he finds a glass vial, now cracked.
The liquid inside is bloodred and clotted.
The one poison unlikely to harm him.
Welcome proof that his sister doesnt want him dead.
Maybe Cardan doesnt, either.
The snake is limp in his hands, the magic gone from it.
Or if his ironaddled mind had only realized the danger too late.
He can no longer dawdle.
He has to act, and fast.
Oak listens for the changing of the guard.
Once he hears Strauns voice, he bangs on the bars until the guard comes.
Didnt I tell you to shut up?
Youre going to get me out of this cell, Oak says.
Straun pauses, then sneers, but theres a little wariness in it.
Have you run mad, princeling?
Oak holds out his hand.
A collection of gemstones rests in his scratched palm.
He spent the better part of the night prying them out of the body of the snake.
Each is worth ten times what Straun gambled away.
The falcon snorts in disgust but cannot disguise his interest.
You intend to bribe me?
Oak asks, walking to the edge of his cell.
Hes not sure if its his magic urging him on or not.
Almost against his will, Straun steps closer.
The prince can smell the sharpness of the juniper liquor on his breath.
Perhaps he is still a little drunk.
He slides his other hand through, too, lower.
Straun smacks Oaks arm hard.
His skin hits the iron bar on his cell, burning.
The prince howls as the gems fall, most scattering across the corridor between the cells.
Didnt think I was half so clever as you, did you?
Straun laughs as he gathers up the stones, not having promised a single thing.
I did not, Oak admits.
Straun spits on the floor in front of the princes cage.
No amount of gold or gems will save you.
If my winter queen wants you to rot here, youre going to rot.
Oak repeats, unable to stop himself.
The falcon looks a little shamefaced and turns to go back to his post.
Hes young, Oak realizes.
Older than Oak, but not by so very much.
It shouldnt be a surprise that Wren made such an impression on him.
It shouldnt bother Oak, shouldnt fill him with a ferocious jealousy.
What the prince needs to concentrate on is the key in his left hand.
The one he grabbed from the loop at Strauns belt when the falcon smacked his right arm.
Straun, who was, thankfully, exactly as clever as Oak had supposed him to be.
The key fits smoothly into the lock of Oaks cell.
It turns so soundlessly it might as well have been greased.
The guard will be feeling smug.
Well, let him.
Then he starts down the hall, his breath clouding in the cold air.
The Ghost taught him how to move stealthily, but hes never been very good at it.
He blames his hooves, heavy and hard.
They clack at the worst possible times.
But he makes an effort, sliding them against the floor to minimize noise.
Oak waits until one leaves to bring back more refreshments and listens hard to the retreating steps of boots.
After hes sure theres only one guard there, he tries the gate.
Its not even locked.
Oak moves fast, jerking Straun backward and covering his nose and mouth with the cloth.
The guard struggles, but inhaling blusher mushroom slows his movements.
Oak presses him to the floor until hes unconscious.
He does, however, snatch up the cloak he finds hanging on a hook beside the door.
The Prisoners Throne by Holly Black excerpted by permission of Little, Brown Books for Young Readers.
The Prisoners Throne by Holly Black will be released March 5, 2024; you might pre-order a copyhere.
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