Crown of Coral and Pearl Read online

  For generations, the princes of Ilara have married the most beautiful maidens from the ocean village of Varenia. But though every girl longs to be chosen as the next princess, the cost of becoming royalty is higher than any of them could ever imagine...

  Nor once dreamed of seeing the wondrous wealth and beauty of Ilara, the kingdom that’s ruled her village for as long as anyone can remember. But when a childhood accident left her with a permanent scar, it became clear that her identical twin sister, Zadie, would likely be chosen to marry the crown prince—while Nor remained behind, unable to ever set foot on land.

  Then Zadie is gravely injured and Nor is sent to Ilara in her place. To Nor’s dismay, her future husband, Prince Ceren, is as forbidding and cold as his home, a castle carved into a mountain and devoid of sunlight. And as she grows closer to Ceren’s brother, the charming Prince Talin, Nor uncovers startling truths about a failing royal bloodline, a murdered queen…and a plot to destroy the home she was once so eager to leave.

  In order to save her people, Nor must learn to negotiate the treacherous protocols of a court where lies reign and obsession rules. But discovering her own formidable strength may be the one move that costs her everything: the crown, Varenia, and Zadie.

  Praise for

  Crown of Coral and Pearl

  “This beautifully authentic portrayal of twin sisterhood is interwoven with fantastical settings, a layered villain, and a delicious romance. A shining gem of a book.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Elly Blake

  “Brimming with palace intrigue, forbidden romance, fantastical creatures, and the power of sisterly love.”

  —Laurie Forest, author of The Black Witch Chronicles

  “A richly romantic story of danger, true love, and a young woman standing up to the darkness at her country’s core. But the real heart of the story is two sisters and a love powerful enough to change the world.”

  —Rosalyn Eves, author of Blood Rose Rebellion

  “A tale of intrigue, love, and sisterhood as dazzling as a sunny day at sea—you’re sure to be swept away.”

  —Sarah Glenn Marsh, author of the Reign of the Fallen series

  “Pure enchantment with a heart as deep as the sea.”

  —Tasha Suri, author of Empire of Sand

  Mara Rutherford

  Crown of Coral and Pearl

  To John, for giving me the world.

  And to Sarah, for always guiding me home.

  About the Author

  Mara Rutherford began her writing career as a journalist but quickly discovered she far preferred fantasy to reality. Originally from California, Mara has since lived all over the world with her marine-turned-diplomat husband. A triplet born on Leap Day, Mara holds a master’s degree in cultural studies from the University of London. When she’s not writing or chasing after her two sons, she can usually be found pushing the boundaries of her comfort zone, whether at a traditional Russian banya or an Incan archaeological site. Crown of Coral and Pearl is her first novel.

  www.MaraRutherford.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Sometimes I wonder if it was our names that determined our fates, or the other way around. Nor and Zadie: coral and pearl. Both precious to our people, both beautiful enough to adorn the necks of queens. But whereas a pearl is prized for its luster, its shape, its lack of imperfections, coral is different. It grows twisted. In its natural form, it can hardly be considered beautiful at all.

  Still, Zadie and I were born as equals in beauty, grace, and wit. We were, the elders declared, the loveliest babies ever born in Varenia. Mother proudly rowed us around in our family’s wooden boat, where Zadie and I would spend much of our childhood. She shaded our olive skin with wide-brimmed hats to prevent sunburn; she forced Father to sand down the sharp edges on our furniture; not a single dark hair on our heads was sacrificed to a pair of scissors. She inspected us every night for scratches or scrapes, then applied oils and salves while she scolded us to be more cautious.

  After all, though Varenian women were blessed with hair as varied as the fish in our waters—from straight to ringlets, flaxen to ebony—and our skin was smooth and healthy in every shade from gold to burnished copper, beauty in our village was held to a higher standard. A girl’s features must be symmetrical and well proportioned, her complexion clear, her gaze bright and curious, though never too direct. Her presentation should always be impeccable, no matter the time or place. To truly stand out, a girl could be nothing short of perfect.

  Because in Varenia, being a beautiful girl wasn’t just lucky. Once every generation, it determined which one of us would become a princess.

  * * *

  “Nor!” Zadie cried, pulling me back from the edge of the boat where I balanced on one foot. “What are you thinking? You can’t risk an injury now.”

  I scratched at my scalp, tender from where Mother had plaited my hair extra tight as punishment for forgetting my hat yesterday. She was forever fretting that the sun would turn our silken hair brittle or—gods forbid—summon forth a freckle, but these days, the angry grumblings from my empty belly were loud enough to drown out Mother’s shrill voice in my head. We’d been looking for oysters for hours, to no avail.

  Zadie, ever the dutiful daughter, batted my hand away. “Please, for Mother’s sake, behave. You know how nervous she is about the ceremony.”

  The ceremony. When hadn’t Mother been nervous about it? Every cloudless day spent in the shade of our stilt-legged wooden house, every missed pearl-diving opportunity because the sea was too rough... I owed them all to the ceremony and to our mother’s obsession with it.

  “Ours is a kingdom without borders,” Father liked to say as he stood on the narrow balcony outside our house, shading his eyes with one hand as he scanned the horizon. Maybe that was true for him, but our life was a constant reminder that one day, the Crown Prince of Ilara would come of marrying age. And as it had been for hundreds of years, so would it be in three days—the elders would finally choose the most beautiful girl in Varenia to be his bride.

  The last girl had left us twenty years ago, when the present king was still a prince and the shoals hadn’t yet been plucked bare, but Mother assured us that she wasn’t half as beautiful as Zadie and me. Before the incident, she teased the elders that they would have to send both of us to marry the prince and let him decide for himself, because we were as indistinguishable as two silver featherfish.

  Now, of course, it was clear who would be sent. The small pink scar on my right cheekbone was all that stood between the crown and me. Anywhere else on my body, an imperfection smaller than a
Varenian pearl might have been overlooked, but compared to Zadie’s flawless skin, the jagged mark was impossible to ignore. Fortunately, I’d had the seven years since the incident to prepare for this, and seven years of relative freedom from our mother’s constant fussing—at least compared to Zadie.

  I flopped back onto the cushions in the bottom of our boat and turned my face up to the cloud-dappled sky. “Are you ready for it?” I asked.

  “For what?” Zadie feigned ignorance while she pulled her skirts over her exposed ankles.

  “To leave Varenia. To leave Mother and Samiel.” To leave me.

  “You don’t know they’re going to choose me. You’re just as beautiful as I am, and you never get sick. And I’ve heard rumors that Alys is being considered as well.”

  I arched a skeptical brow. “Mother says that even with my scar, I’m prettier than Alys will ever be. How did she put it? ‘Alys has only to smile, and that snaggletooth will send the prince running for his nursemaid.’”

  Zadie frowned. “Mother shouldn’t say such things. Alys can’t help it.”

  “Neither can Mother,” I said with a wry look.

  Zadie pulled on one of the lines hanging over the side of the boat, frowning at the tiny fish dangling from the end. Our waters had been overfished for years, though no one seemed to want to admit it. Zadie carefully laid the shimmering creature in the palm of her hand, removed the hook, and dropped it back into the sea. The fish was too small to eat, though we might have used it for bait, had there been anything larger to catch.

  “I know Mother can be difficult, but she only wants what’s best for us,” Zadie said after a moment. “What she herself couldn’t have.”

  Half a dozen snide comments popped into my head, but I held my tongue. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  Though I’d never told her, I knew for a fact Zadie would be the chosen one; the only one of us who would ever set foot on land—something I’d wished for since childhood. Because scar or no scar, Zadie was beautiful in a way I would never be. In Varenia, we were constantly searching for imperfections, whether in pearls or people, but Zadie only ever saw the good. Just last week, while I lamented the damage to our house from a passing storm, Zadie watched the sky, searching for rainbows.

  So even when our mother was at her worst, Zadie could find something kind to say in return.

  I would never be that good, that pure of heart. And that was a harder sort of pain to bear.

  “I’m going swimming,” I said, wishing I could shed my thoughts as easily as my skirts.

  Zadie glanced around anxiously. As young women of marrying age, we should never be seen barelegged in public, but diving in a skirt wasn’t just difficult—it was dangerous. Before, when oysters were plentiful, young men did most of the diving. But these days, girls and women helped out whenever possible. And in our family, with Father fishing every day and no brothers to share the burden, there was no other choice. Even Mother couldn’t complain too much—she knew how badly we needed the extra money.

  “Are you coming?” I asked.

  “The salt will dry out our skin. Mother will know.”

  I placed my hands on my hips and grinned. “Last one to find an oyster has to make dinner tonight.” The truth was, we couldn’t afford to go home empty-handed. Not if we wanted to eat next week. But it was easier to pretend this was all a game, one in which the stakes weren’t life or death. “Ready?”

  She shook her head, but her fingers were already busy untying her skirt and tugging down her tunic to cover her thighs. “You’re wicked,” she said, then launched herself out of the boat into the clear water.

  I dived in after her, letting the pressure build in my ears as I surged past Zadie toward the bottom, drowning out the little voice in my head that said, I know.

  * * *

  Several hours later, I was stirring a pot of watery fish stew over the fire when Samiel entered our house, his body still glistening with seawater from his swim over. Sami was our best friend, and the only boy in the village who had dared play with us as children. Not only was our mother strict beyond reason, our father was also the governor’s best friend. Sami was exempt from Mother’s scolding, however, seeing as his father was the governor.

  “Don’t tell me Zadie found an oyster before you did,” he teased. Sami was as competitive as I was, but Zadie had gotten lucky today. The oyster lay on a small driftwood table nearby, already shucked and sadly lacking a pearl.

  Our primary currency, the rare pink pearls that were only found in our waters, had also become scarce of late, as the Ilarean appetite for them continued to increase. The pearls were used to make jewelry for the nobility, but they could also be ground up and added to skin creams and cosmetics. Most Varenian families had a small jar of healing ointment made from the pearls, but that was to be saved for emergencies, since many of us were naturally healthy from spending so much time in the waters that were said to make the pearls special in the first place. After the incident, Mother had used the ointment daily on my scar in hopes of minimizing its appearance, but stopped once she realized it would never heal completely.

  Sami dropped a tarnished brass button onto the table next to the empty oyster shell. “Look what I got for Zadie.”

  I tsked in disapproval. By law, Ilara was our sole trade partner for all the things the sea couldn’t provide: clothing, fruits and vegetables, tools, books, barrels of fresh water. Even our firewood came from Ilara. But Sami was the exception to the rule. He often traded secretly—and illegally—with our cousins, the Galethians. Over a hundred years ago, a small population of Varenians had risked their lives to set foot on land, then quickly fled north on a herd of stolen Ilarean horses. Those horses became the foundation of the Galethian culture, just as the waves had formed ours.

  “Wave children,” the Ilareans called us. And that was exactly how they treated us: like children.

  The Ilareans had access to resources we could only dream of—not just fresh water and food, but also sophisticated weapons and thousands of men. Occasionally a desperate Varenian would attempt to land on Ilarean soil, in search of an easier life away from the whims of the sea, but they were usually dealt with swiftly and decidedly by the soldiers who patrolled the shoreline. It was possible a few got away with it, but any violation of Ilarean law wouldn’t just end in death for the defector in question—Ilara could eradicate our people swiftly and with little effort. They’d made that clear in all their dealings with us.

  I poked at the button with feigned indifference, though in truth, anything from land fascinated me. “And what will Zadie do with a button? Use it to fasten the trousers she doesn’t wear?”

  “I’m making her a cloak to take with her when she leaves. She’ll be cold in Ilara.”

  Sami knew as well as I did that Zadie was going to be chosen at the ceremony. It was as hard for him as it was for me, in some ways, because he loved her, too. He always had. I suspected that Zadie returned his love, but they both knew she would leave to marry the prince someday, so their relationship could never be more than friendship.

  “That’s so thoughtful,” I said. “But you shouldn’t be trading with the Galethians. If you’re caught, they’ll hang you.”

  “Then I guess I can’t get caught.” He smiled, revealing teeth as white as shells against his tanned skin. Boys didn’t carry the same burden as Varenian girls, at least not when it came to scars and sunburns. They had to provide for their families, however, and that was becoming harder and harder. Last year, two pearls had been enough to feed a family for a month. Now it took twice that many, yet somehow the quality of the goods they fetched was poorer. I had learned a long time ago not to ask questions about our trade relationship with Ilara—it was the elders’ place to worry about such things, not mine. And according to Mother, I had far more important things to worry about, like the sheen of my hair or the length of my eyelashes.

 
But that had never stopped me from wondering about the world beyond Varenia.

  “Any news from Galeth?” I asked.

  “There’s talk of an uprising in Southern Ilara.”

  “That’s nothing new.”

  He shook his head. “It’s getting worse. King Xyrus refuses to grant safe passage to the refugees heading north, even though the Galethians would welcome them with open arms.”

  “Anything to bolster their army.”

  “It’s more than that. The Galethians were refugees once, too.”

  I turned the button over in my hand. It was engraved with a small, many-petaled flower. I’d heard of roses, though I’d never seen one before. I tried to imagine a world in which something as small as a button was deemed worthy of this level of craftsmanship.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said before dropping the button into the empty oyster shell. “Just like Zadie.”

  Sami’s hand closed around my shoulder, and I leaned my cheek against it. “What will we do without her?” I whispered.

  There was a pause, then a cough. “I suppose we’ll just have to marry each other.”

  I rapped his knuckles with the wooden spoon I held, and he pulled his hand away. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last boy in Varenia.”

  He placed his hand on his chest, feigning offense. “And why not?”

  “Because you’re my best friend. And worse, you’re the future governor.”

  “You’re right. You’d make a terrible governor’s wife, anyway.” He snatched a dried date off the table and darted out of my reach.

  “Do that again, and I swear I won’t marry you. You’ll be stuck with Alys.”

  He grimaced. “Imagine our little shark-toothed children. My mother would weep.”

  Zadie poked her head around the door and frowned. “You’re both wicked, do you know that? Alys is kind and loyal. You’d be lucky to marry her.”