The Lost Queen (Book 1 of The Lost Queen Series)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sterling stopped a few paces outside the door on a little stone platform to take in her surroundings. Every way she looked was covered with golden sand.

Dunes stretched off into the distance as far as her eyes could see, taking on a wavy appearance as the heat rose off the grains. That delicious heat now warmed her skin—something Sterling had craved to feel for so long.

She closed her eyes and turned her face into the sun's rays. For just that moment, she allowed herself to forget. Forget she had been kidnapped and was far from anyone she knew. Forget she had been handed over to mysterious people shrouded in dark robes who had mistaken her for a princess. Forget the aches in her body, the bruises, her broken nose, her hunger.

Forget everything.

A touch on her shoulder shattered the moment. Sterling opened her eyes and saw one of the figures had come up behind her, their face still hidden within the shadows of their robe. No matter how hard she stared, she still couldn't make out a face in the darkness. Her gaze moved over the figure's shoulder to the door she had come through—or rather, where it had been.

It was gone.

There was no trace there had ever been a door. There was only more golden sand stretching off into the horizon. The only thing left was the stone platform she and the others were standing on in the middle of a sandy ocean. Even the third robed figure, the one she had thought of as their leader, was missing.

"Where am I?" Sterling murmured to herself. She didn't expect an answer, but to her surprise, the figure closest to her lowered his hood.

Sterling was startled to find herself looking into the dark eyes of a young man. He couldn't have been much older than Seraiah.

"Hello, Princess," he drawled as she stared at him.

"My name is not Princess," she snapped back before she could stop herself.

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to be lashing out at her kidnappers, she thought belatedly. They were the only ones who had information about what was going on.

She'd never been good at keeping her mouth shut.

Instead of the anger Sterling would have expected from her previous keepers, he just smirked. "My mistake. What would you prefer I call you?"

Sterling kept her mouth shut, holding his gaze. A bead of sweat slid down her skin beneath her heavy wool dress. The heat no longer felt so pleasant as the sun's rays beat down on their heads.

There was a moment of silence as they stared each other down.

"Very well," he finally said, glancing at the other robed figure before returning his gaze to her. "Princess, it is then—or should I say Queen, since I suppose that is technically what you are." There was that little smirk again.

She continued holding his stare as her thoughts swirled. Now I'm promoted to a queen? What next?

He either didn't notice her expression or didn't care as he continued speaking. "I rather like Princess myself. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Again, Sterling stayed silent, wishing she could wipe that smirk off his face. She had barely met him, but already his smugness was grating on her. The other figure, Mr. Moneybags, turned away, putting his back to them, apparently uninterested in their conversation.

"Now that we have that settled, I think we can get rid of these," the young man said, reaching a gloved hand toward her.

On instinct, she took a step back—right off the edge of the platform and sank into the sand.