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queen's strike back

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The Queen's Strike BackA story by Melisa WaruiI wrote this story because I wanted a queen who doesn't wait to be rescued. We see plenty of crowned women in fiction who are beautiful and noble and then left standing in the corner while the men sort out the war. Amara is not that kind of queen. She is pretty, yes, and she is kind, but the thing I love most about her is that when she is knocked down, she gets up angry and she gets up smart.The story is set in the present day, in a small, wealthy kingdom called Lindoria. There are airports and television broadcasts, phones that lose their signal at the worst moment, and press offices that will happily spin a lie. It is a modern world, but the old things still matter in it: loyalty, honour, and the question of who you can trust when everything is falling apart.Amara Valeska is a young widow. Four years ago her husband, King Aldric, died suddenly of a heart condition no one knew he had, and she took the crown while she was still grieving. She learned to rule the hard way, in long meetings, with ministers who thought she would fail. She didn't. By the time the story opens she has built a good reputation and is flying home from Geneva with a treaty that will bring clean water to the poorest villages in the north.She lands and finds that someone has taken her kingdom while she was in the air.That someone is Lucian Voss, the Chancellor, her late husband's uncle. He held her hand at the funeral and told her she was not alone, and the whole time he was planning this. He goes on national television, in a gentle voice full of fake concern, and announces that the Queen has "collapsed from grief" and must be relieved of her duties for her own good. He names himself Regent. He doesn't have to shoot her or lock her in a tower. He only has to make everyone believe she is too fragile to rule. I thought that was a very modern kind of villainy, and a very believable one.Amara would have been taken that first night if not for Rafe Calder, the head of her royal protection. Rafe has guarded her since she was a princess, and he is the kind of man who notices what other people miss. He saw the wrong uniforms on the tarmac, the empty welcome, the men with no insignia. He gets her, her secretary Tessa, and the old pilot Okafor out through a drainage culvert and into his own beaten-up car, and takes them to a safe house that no one else knows exists.Rafe is the heart of the "modern loyalty" in the story. He is not the type who bows and says "yes, Majesty." His loyalty is quiet and stubborn and sometimes irritating, and it asks a lot of him. He told her months ago that Voss was dangerous. She didn't listen, because she wanted to believe in family. He doesn't throw that back at her when it all goes wrong. He tells her, very plainly, that Voss stole the kingdom and she did not hand it over, and that she must remember the difference.Over the first part of the story, the fall, we follow Amara through the worst days of her life. She is hiding in a small house by the sea, wearing borrowed clothes, watching the news call her sick and unstable. Her friends in the government go silent. People she trusted turn out to have been bought or frightened. She doesn't take it well at first. She is angry and hurt and ashamed, and I wanted to show that honestly, because a heroine who never cracks isn't believable. But grief and shame are not where she stays. By the end of this part she has made a decision. She is not going to run for long. She is going to take her crown back.Part two is the hidden queen. Here Amara lives under borrowed names and learns what it is like to be an ordinary woman in her own country. She goes into markets and listens to what people whisper about her. She finds out that many of them do not believe Voss's story, but they are afraid to say so. She finds out how much the northern villages were counting on her treaty, and how quickly Voss is undoing it. Tessa turns out to be brilliant with codes and messages and begins to rebuild a secret network of people still loyal to the Queen. Old friends come back, slowly and carefully, one at a time.This is also where the love story starts to grow, and I wanted it to be sweet and slow. Amara and Rafe have been close for years, but there was always a wall between them: her crown, his duty, her grief for Aldric. Now the wall is gone, because she is no longer a queen on a throne and he is no longer a guard on a rota. They are two people hiding in a small house, sharing bad coffee at dawn, and learning how it feels to be seen without any titles on. She finds a letter her husband left behind, one that tells her to live and to be loved again, and it frees her in a way she did not expect. There is an almost-kiss that gets interrupted, a night when they cannot stop talking, and a point where Rafe finally admits how long he has felt the way he does. It is a love between adults, with real heat in it, but at the centre it is tender.

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queen's strike back chapter 1
THE QUEEN'S STRIKE BACK By Melisa Warui Chapter 1: The Night I Lost My Kingdom The first thing Amara noticed when her plane landed was that nobody was clapping. It sounds like a small thing. It was not. For four years, every time she came home, the airport staff had lined up along the red carpet, the brass band had played that tired old anthem, and some child in a school uniform had pushed forward to hand her flowers. She had asked them many times to stop. Tonight she would have given anything to hear the awful brass band. There was only the wind, and an empty runway under harsh white lights. "Something is off," she said quietly. Tessa Marlowe looked up from her tablet. She had been Amara's secretary for six years and her best friend for twenty. "The welcome was confirmed twice," she said. She tapped the screen, frowned, and tapped again. "And now I have no signal at all." Amara smoothed her navy jacket and ignored the cold feeling in her stomach. Three days of trade talks had left her tired down to her bones, but she was happy. In her bag was a signed agreement that would bring clean water to every village in the north. She had fought for it for two years. The cabin door opened and damp night air rushed in. It smelled of rain and fuel. Rafe Calder went down the steps first. He always did. He was the head of her protection team, a tall man with dark cropped hair and a stubborn jaw, and he had a habit of standing perfectly still when he was thinking. He stood like that at the bottom of the stairs, studying the hangars and the dark corners where the light did not reach. Then he looked back up at her, and she saw something in his grey eyes she had never seen before. He looked uncertain. "Majesty, please stay inside." "Rafe, what is it?" "The ground crew is wrong. The uniforms are different." He paused. "And my men are not answering." Beyond the apron, her motorcade waited, three black cars with their engines running. But the men beside them were strangers. Amara knew every driver on her staff by name. She did not know one face on that tarmac. A man walked toward the plane wearing a charcoal suit and a smile that looked ironed on. When he stepped into the light, her stomach dropped. Lucian Voss. The Chancellor of Lindoria. Her late husband's uncle. "Your Majesty!" he called warmly, opening his arms. "Thank goodness you are home. We have all been so worried." "Chancellor." She kept her voice level, the voice that made grown ministers stop talking. "Where is my escort?" "Stood down, for your own safety. There has been a difficulty. The Council met while you were away. We must speak privately." "The Council cannot meet without the sovereign." "In extraordinary circumstances, it can." His smile never moved. "Please, my dear. Let us not make this unpleasant." Rafe stepped in front of her so smoothly she almost missed it. "The Queen is tired. She will go to the palace in her own car, with her own guard. Good night, Chancellor." Voss sighed as if Rafe had disappointed him, and lifted one hand. From the shadows beside a hangar, six men walked out in black tactical gear. They wore no badges. They carried rifles the way men do when they have used them before. "Captain Calder," Voss said softly. "I would hate for anyone to be hurt tonight." For one long second nobody moved. Amara watched Rafe's shoulders and saw him weigh the danger, and saw him decide he did not like the answer. Then he spoke without turning his head, in the old fishing dialect of her mother's coast, which almost nobody in the capital understood. "Go inside. Now. Trust me." She did not hesitate. With Rafe, she never had. She stepped back into the cabin and he followed, pulling the door shut. "Tessa, tell the pilot to move. Anywhere. Now." "The runway is blocked!" "There is a service road behind the cargo hangar. It is narrow, but he can fit." After that, everything came in pieces. The engines screaming back to life. The plane jerking forward and throwing her sideways into a seat. A gunshot somewhere outside, flat and ugly, nothing like in the films. Tessa whispering a prayer in her grandmother's language. And Rafe in the aisle holding a small black pistol Amara had never seen him draw in all the years she had known him. The old pilot, Okafor, said something rude about the Chancellor's mother and swung the jet off the apron. The plane bounced over a concrete edge and for one terrible moment she thought the wing would snap. Then they were rolling between dark cargo containers, and the terminal lights dropped away. "Stop here!" Rafe shouted. The plane braked so hard her teeth knocked together. He pulled the emergency lever and the rear hatch swung open onto wet grass and darkness. "Out. All of you. Run for the trees." Amara kicked off her heels and jumped. Tessa landed beside her, one shoe already lost. Okafor lumbered after them, clutching the flight bag like a baby. Rafe came last, walking backward, the pistol aimed at the airport as headlights flared behind the hangar. They crashed into the trees. Branches whipped her arms and the rain began, cold and heavy, soaking her silk blouse in seconds. Behind them men were shouting. Rafe caught her wrist. "This way. There is a drainage culvert under the fence." "You planned for this?" "I plan for everything that involves you." He said it roughly, almost angrily, and she did not have enough breath to wonder about it.

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