Introduction

For fans of *One Dark Window* and *The Hemlock Queen* comes a lush, gothic reimagining of mythology, where a forgotten princess must embrace her darkest inheritance to save a kingdom doomed by its own immortality.

In the cursed kingdom of Moirai, death has vanished. Trapped in a state between life and oblivion, its people are condemned to an eternity of toil, waiting for the return of the Reaper. But Death has a name—Morena, the forgotten princess locked away by her own mother, a cruel queen driven by dark magic and ambition. As a direct descendant of the Fates, Morena’s destiny was written long ago, but she has never wielded her powers—until now.

When fate offers her a way out, she takes it. Masked as the Grim Reaper, Morena stalks the shadows, tasked with claiming the hearts. But a stranger in the graveyard knows more than he should, pulling her into a deadly game of secrets, power, and betrayal. The glittering court hides its own dark deceptions, and her mother’s twisted ambitions infect the kingdom like poison, leaving Morena caught between a world she barely understands and a destiny she dreads.

As enemies close in and her heart tugs between duty and desire, Morena must decide—will she claim the power that is her birthright , or will she carve a new path for herself and defy the gods themselves?

Perfect for readers who crave dark retellings steeped in myth and gothic allure, QUEENS OF MOIRAI will pull you into a world where death is just the beginning, and destiny is as inescapable as the grave.

Trigger warnings: death, imprisonment, gore, abusive parent, dark magic, steamy scenes, and suicidal themes.

Why do you know Achilles story, but not hers?

"A wonderful, gripping, new adult, mythological retelling. Finding a gem amongst the plethora of fantasy and paranormal fiction available today is refreshing. Anyone who loves Sarah J. Maas and fantasy with strong but vulnerable characters will love Queens of Moirai." - Review from Readers' Favorite

"Feared. Locked up. Lonely. Thrown away. People you love taken. No father. A cruel mother. Betrayed. What type of person does that girl become? This series is your answer." - Shannon, ARC Reviewer

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Excerpt

Prologue

Snow fell on the graves of the children. Here it was always winter, white and knife-cold, and the boy hated it. Hated the castle of dark-blue stone. Hated the handsome king and hated the sounds and the smells and the guards and the food. 

The boy longed for fire.

He longed for his cozy bed and the view of the blue river and green, rolling hills... but the boy knew he would die in this bleak place, far from warmth. For the Queen must stay, and she was all he had left.

“It’s not the fairytales that lie to us, but the people we love.” His mother had always said that, as if that would explain things.

It was before dawn when the boy heard the insistent knocking at the door. Half asleep, dead tired, he wanted nothing more than to ignore it. “Go away,” he mumbled into his pillow. 

Around him the other servants slept hard, exhausted from long days and nights working in the castle. 

The hand knocked again, harder this time. As the youngest, and the person whose cot was nearest to the door, it was his responsibility to check. Nico knew that, yet it was so tempting to ignore.

“Open the door!” a female voice demanded.

“Sure, sure, I’m coming!” he grumbled, as he lurched out of the low cot and wrapped his threadbare blanket tightly around himself. The room was bitterly cold, and he rubbed his hands together as he went to open the door. He yanked hard, hard enough to make his hands ache. He was not quite big enough to work around the Castle—he could not carry the swords, the axes, or the other weapons—but they’d put him to task anyway. 

A woman in a heavy cloak stood in the snow and moonlight, her blue eyes capturing him. 

“May I help you?” He didn’t recognize her but the cloth of her gown and robe were quite fine, which meant she must be one of the priestesses.

Her brow knit together. “You’re just a boy.” 

Offended, Nico puffed out his chest. “I’m eight, and the fastest in the castle with a blade.”

“I’ll bet you are. I wanted to see if you would help me with something. Something very important.”

“Of course.” The boy couldn’t believe she was asking so politely. Most of the others ordered him about as if he were a field hand, or else ignored him completely. He didn’t pause to wonder why she was asking in the dead of night; everyone knew the priestesses walked at midnight.

“Do you know where the children are buried?”

He shuddered. That Godsforsaken field of snow was dotted with tiny graves. The other servants said that the babies were still reeking of blood, pulled from the Queen’s warm womb. Then they were tossed into holes in the snow, left to freeze to death. All because the Queen didn’t want children in her castle. 

That’s what they said. They’d never seen it, of course.

His mother told him once that the House of Atropos should be cursed, that she shouldn’t have even one descendant. At one point he had nightmares about it; that the priestesses dug holes in the snow and placed the children in, still alive.

His skin crawled. “Yes,” he mumbled. “I know it.”

“One of them is alive. I’ve marked the place – you’ll know it. Can you do that? Can you bring her here, keep her warm, and give her milk?” She held out her hand, and it was full of goblin gold, more than Nico had ever seen. 

Still, he hesitated. It was impossible to survive outside in the midst of this snowstorm—he would only last minutes. And the prospect of going out there in the dark, with them, terrified him. But it was true that a single coin would feed the entire house for a month, and there were at least twenty in her palm, enough to buy himself and his mother a house far away from here.

“Why?” he asked. “Atropos has killed so many already.” He gave the woman a look of disgust. 

She leaned close. “This baby is special, Nico. She’ll rid us of the plague of undead and reunite Moirai one day … if you and I can help her.” 

Fair-skinned, the woman had soft brown hair that waved around her face. Her blue eyes were like a piece of sky tugged down from Heaven. She was beautiful, in the same way that angels and princesses were. She smelled just a little bit like flowers. 

“Will you save her with me? And keep her safe? Can you be her hero?”

If he wasn’t decided before, that single word did him in. Nico puffed out his chest again. “Of course I will.” He fixed his chin, and gave a firm nod. “I’ll go right now.”

“You’ll keep her next to you? You won’t let her get cold?”

“Never. I can take care of a baby.” He didn’t know how, but he didn’t want the beautiful lady to doubt him. Perhaps she’d come back and bring more coins, if he did a good job. 

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I can always count on you.”

Later, the boy would regret his words. He couldn’t know, not then, how much work it would be to raise the infant, how many years he would need to lie and kill to keep her safe. He didn’t know who the girl would become or that there would be other babies, a burden that lay heavy on his small shoulders.

Nico strode through the killing fields with purpose, the snow spilling over the top of his boots with every step. Trembling and anxious to be done with his errand, he scanned the ground. Maybe she was mistaken, he thought. Maybe the baby was already dead. Then he saw it, just as she said: two sticks, stark and black, laid in a simple cross on top of the snow. 

Nico stared down at it for only a moment, just one, then he began to dig.

***

Chapter 1

Fifteen Years Later 

Fingers burning with cold, I clung to the wall of Grace Castle and took deep steadying breaths. Thirty feet below, the icy waters of the Sea of Obsidia surged, its waves reaching upwards as if eager to gobble us up and spit out our bones.

My sister, Arabella, called back to us in the dark, “Don’t look down!” 

I considered a reply, but my lips were stuck together—the cold had frozen them closed, and to open them at all might cause them to rip and tear. Every noise risked drawing attention to us, the three children who hung on the side of a tower by our fingernails. It was more important to keep my grip on the frost-covered stones of the castle, to keep moving. Hand over hand, silently forward, I followed my brother and sister. 

We were survivors, the three of us. Aged fifteen, fourteen, and twelve, we’d already faced incredible odds to live this long. We were miracles—buried at birth in the snow of Kinver’i. Unlike other children who had died from the frigid temperatures, we three still lived. It was too dark to see either of my siblings ahead, but I could feel their presence as though they were touching my skin.

Tonight was our most daring attempt yet. In total darkness, shoeless, trembling, we picked our way down the rough indigo stones. The tower was only the beginning—if we reached the bottom, we’d still need to brave the sea, the forests, and an endless kingdom of snow.  

We could stay and die . . . or go and die.

Arabella had a bag lashed to her back with provisions we’d hidden away these last few months. She was neither faster nor stronger, the youngest of us three, but she was braver than Taliesin or myself and could always be counted upon to be first. She climbed out the window without hesitation—we knew exactly where to place our feet. For part of the climb, we’d had years of practice. For the rest . . . well, that’d be luck. 

My threadbare black gown billowed in the wind, its tattered edges slapped against my paper-white legs. My toes scratched and scraped against every rock. My hands shook as I took hold of another stone. 

We’re going to make it, I said to myself for at least the twentieth time. I gulped a freezing lungful of air and pressed my forehead to the castle wall, then said a quick prayer to Nyx, my great-grandmother. Help us, I begged. 

“Morena.” My brother, Taliesin, was nearer than I’d thought. “It’s working—the plan is working.” 

I glanced to my right, then grinned at him. “I can’t believe it either.” 

We all hated the tower, though it was arguably safer than the monsters we’d face outside. Although we had only molded bread and water-thin soup that always left hunger gnawing at us, we wouldn’t have any food outside those walls. We could easily starve while we wandered in the forests of Lerza. 

“If she falls—” I said aloud to my brother.

“She won’t. You won’t. I won’t.” Taliesin was ever the optimist. “Besides, if any of us fell, we’d better die. Otherwise, Nico would kill us for ruining the plan.” 

As demigods, descendants of the Fates, we’d survive much. A fall of forty feet into the sea? We would probably live through that. But I’d rather we didn’t test it and find out—Nico had risked everything to help us plan this. We couldn’t fail him.

Arabella called back to us again in the night. “Tally! Morena! I’m at the stairs.”

“Do the words ‘be quiet’ mean nothing to you?” Taliesin hissed, not loud enough for her to hear. She’d probably forgotten the most important part of the instructions. “We should hurry,” he said to me.

“Probably.” My cheek pressed against the cold blue stone. “Do you think he was able to get us the boat?” 

One of the few living people left in the Grace, Nico had raised the three of us, taught us to read and write and how to throw a knife. He’d promised to tie a boat to the dock for us. Still, I couldn’t help but worry—when I’d looked out from the tower window before sunset, there had been no boat at the dock.

“Nico will come through,” Taliesin said. “By this time tomorrow, we’ll be long gone, and Arabella can celebrate her birthday outside the tower.” 

It was the only thing she wanted, the one item our little sister ever asked for. Go out? she’d pleaded, aged two, and pointed at the door. Every year since she could talk, she’d said the same thing. Go out? 

We all wished for freedom, and we would gift it to ourselves this year. Taliesin and I started forward again, slow and steady. Our blond heads were close together, elbows grazing occasionally. If we hurried, we might fall. If we didn’t hurry, we would be killed for sure. Sunrise would come and reveal our absence to our guards, show our footprints in the snow. There was still much to do—we had to get to the dock, board the skiff, and cross the sea. We had to be out of sight before anyone knew we’d left.

Behind me, in the dark, a light flickered inside the castle. Arabella was watching us, ready to tell us to hurry. “Impossible,” she muttered, loud enough for both of us to hear.

“What?” I hadn’t seen it, not yet.

“Damn,” she said in response. “Someone is awake.”

The waves below lapped at the castle. The snow fell. I shivered and clung to the stone. Perhaps it was nothing, but I thought I heard something, so I had to pause and listen—really listen—just to see if I’d imagined it. 

Click. Click. Click click click. 

Low and quiet, almost unnoticeable. Tally and Arabella heard it, too.

“Gods curse us. You two have to hurry up.” Without waiting for a reply, she whirled, her ivory nightgown luminous in the night. The stone staircase we sought was just ten stones ahead.

Click. Click. 

An inhuman screech tore through the air. I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting a clammy hand or yellowed teeth to seize my shoulder. “Our jailers have noticed.” I continued forward across the stones, softly mumbling to myself. “I knew this was a bad idea.” 

It was worse than a bad idea. It was a terrible, awful idea with severe consequences. I couldn’t imagine how angry she would be. But what choice did we have? We’d been prisoners in this tower all our lives.

I tried to climb faster, but I had to be careful. My handholds had to be sturdy and sure, or I would plummet to the frozen waters and rocks below. But they were close. I could feel them. Even though I couldn’t see the wild creatures behind me, I shuddered.

I reached out and grabbed the next blue-black stone covered with frost. Just a single day of sun would have made this easier. I put all my strength into my right hand, gripped the stone tight, and hunted for another foothold. At least I’m tall, I thought. 

“There.” I huffed as my toes touched upon a minuscule outcropping. I shifted as quickly as I dared, my fingernails tearing on the stone.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Easy,” Taliesin said, “we’re almost there.” 

I reached forward again and grabbed another stone. 

“Thank the gods,” I gritted out. “We have to—”

My words hung in the air like a man on the gallows; my thoughts were lost in a scream as I fell.

***

“I’ve got you.” Taliesin’s face tightened with strain as he held on, and I dangled over the churning waters of the sea. My toenails scraped against the rock ledge; my knees banged against the indigo stones as I scrambled to find a foothold.

“I won’t let go.” Taliesin’s hand was tight around my wrist as I dangled off the side of the castle, the wind howling around us. As our eyes met, I suddenly remembered a windy night, long ago, when I’d rocked his small body in my arms until he’d fallen back asleep.

Taliesin pulled and huffed, then hauled me up onto the stone stairs. I landed hard on my knees and took several gulping breaths.

Click. Click click.

The Cullen who crawled behind me shrieked, and a second later I heard a dull thud. It lost its grip just as I had and fell to the rocks below. I heard a low growl of delight somewhere to my left, just above us. 

“I can’t see how many of them there are,” Taliesin said. “But I bet they’re latched onto the stones like spiders.”

“Good thing it’s impossible for them to be quiet,” I replied. 

Decaying teeth made clicking sounds, gnawing, anticipating the chase like stalking cats. Cullen weren’t fast, but they felt no pain nor fear, and would think nothing of crawling down the uneven stones of the castle wall. If one fell, another would replace it. Once they caught us—if they caught us— they would drag us straight back to our tower and lock the door.

Clickclickclick.

Taliesin leaned over the wall and loosed a vicious punch into the darkness. A Cullen shrieked as it plummeted to the frozen Sea of Obsidia below. “We’ve made it this far. Now we run to the dock.” 

Arabella sprinted down the stairs, far ahead of the two of us. Just barely, I could see her red hair streaming behind her like an open flame, and her gown, pale as snow, flashed white in the darkness.

She could have stumbled, rolled her ankle on the uneven stones. She could have banged her hip into the low walls, scraped her shoulder on the sudden turns as I had. But Arabella was born with an inherent grace, flying down the steps in the darkness. She didn’t look back. She didn’t wait. 

Irritated, Taliesin tugged me forward. When I tripped, he righted me. He would never leave me, so he could only move as fast as I could. Around and around we went as we sprinted down the spiral staircase. 

In the east, the sky was still darkest blue. We caught up to Arabella near the base of the tower and sprinted toward the dock. I could just see the end of the dock through the fog. A boat bobbed in the water. My heart leapt with joy. Nico had come through for us. The thought of freedom, so near, so sweet, propelled our feet faster. The three of us reached the ground, our bare feet pounding the snow as we ran. 

Nico told us to run along the stone wall and follow it, turn right at a small arch, then we’d be on dock. We’d never done this, we didn’t know the terrain, and Taliesin slipped. I helped him up. 

Faster. We are almost there. 

We rounded the final corner, we made it to the archway. But just beyond, the Queen waited. Flanked by Cullen, her red lips were frozen in a cruel smile. Even though I’d seen her less than a dozen times, each time had haunted my dreams—here was the Queen of the Blood Throne, Malinda the Mad. Our mother. Her arms tucked behind her back, she waited for us as if we’d told her to meet us. 

My heart stalled and I jerked backward, frozen with fear. The three of us skidded to a halt, like a trio of cornered rabbits who’d come face-to-face with a fox.

“Departing so soon?” our captor asked. “The sun has yet to rise.” Her face was inscrutable as her undead bodyguards chomped their rotted teeth and seized us. 

We struggled against them, our frail bodies no match for their strength. Arabella beat at hers with pale fists; I hung my head and accepted our capture. Whatever would happen next would happen. There was no escaping now. 

Cullen dragged us forward across the frozen boards, toward her and the edge of the water, and though I tried to keep my eyes on the sea, on the dock, anywhere else, I couldn’t help but look at her, the Queen of the Blood Throne.

She must have just eaten, I thought with a shudder. Years ago, Nico confided in us that the Queen stole hearts—stole them and ate them. We had laughed but believed him when one of our maids came back with a hole in her chest three days later.

It was my job to take the blame, to take whatever punishment would befall us, horrific, violent, or otherwise. But it was Arabella who stepped forward, in front of her two older siblings. 

A flash of rage detonated in the Queen’s eyes as she scanned Arabella and me. But her voice was even, flatly calm, as she spoke: “I must say, I’m disappointed in you, Morena. You’re supposed to keep these two in line.” 

She sneered as she glanced between Taliesin and Arabella. “It is not safe for children to be out in the world. Too many monsters.” Just the sound of her voice sent fear screaming through me. 

“It’s quite dangerous to crawl along the rock like that,” she continued. “You might have fallen. You know what can happen if you’re afraid or injured. And what a tragedy that would be. This is why you’re supposed to stay inside.”

I didn’t dare answer. Instead, I put my head down and watched as chunks of ice floated past in the coal-colored sea. Sometimes I heard the screams of her victims, far off and faint through our tower window. I smelled the coppery scent of blood on the wind. I knew what sorts of deeds Malinda did, even if I’d never seen them. 

As I stared down at the dock, I noticed the hem of her gown had blood along its edge, browned and old. The Queen wore pert little black boots with silver buckles, and one of those buckles had smears of blood upon it. Taliesin shivered next to me, his underfed body wracked by the cold. Only Arabella, the youngest, dared to look directly at our captor. She was too young, too reckless, to be afraid.

“What would you have done if you’d succeeded? Braved the ice floes of the sea, hiked through hundreds of miles of snow . . .” The Queen stared down at our feet. “Shoeless?” 

“Anything would be better than staying here.” Arabella’s voice trembled. “Living in your hell.”

“Sure of that, are you?” The Queen smiled sweetly at her rebellious children. 

Behind her, Cullen guards swayed and clicked their teeth, their faces darting back and forth. The Cullen stench rolled over us, and I stared down at their bare gray feet instead of at their disfigured jowls working from side to side. Undead slaves, guards, and agents of torture—she controlled them and her army grew. They wouldn’t understand our words; they only understood her unspoken commands. 

“Taliesin.” The Queen focused those emerald eyes on my brother. Taliesin—sweet, steady, kind—lowered his gaze to the pendant at her throat.

I spoke up. “Don’t blame him. It wasn’t his idea.”

Tally did not crumple or cower, even though I could scent his panic. “My Queen.” 

He jolted at the caress of her gloved hand along his jaw. I could sense her heavy mood like a storm gathering in the distance. 

“‘My Queen,’ he says. Not ‘Mother.’ Have you forgotten who I am, child?” She gripped his thin shoulder. She leaned in and her nostrils flared delicately. “What I’ve done for all of you, when many would kill you just for the pleasure of spilling your blood?” She smiled, her teeth too white and too sharp against blood-red lips. 

“You should thank me. You wouldn’t last forty-eight hours in the woods.” She faced away from us, clasped her hands behind her back as she walked toward the edge of the dock. “Yet here you are. You haven’t appreciated my efforts.” She tilted her head to look up at the sun rising over the mountains. 

The Queen turned back to our group, her breath steaming in the frigid air. “I’m ready for breakfast. Shall we?” She picked up her skirts and stepped daintily over the boards back toward the castle, brushing past us as she left.

Arabella caught my eye and shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly. That’s it?

I couldn’t believe we’d gotten off so easily. I’d expected beheading—or worse. To do nothing was out of character for the Queen of the Blood Throne. 

“Arabella. Morena. You’ll return to the tower.” She didn’t glance backward as the Cullen separated in front of her, allowing her a path through their grayed and decayed bodies. 

She paused. “Taliesin, you won’t be joining them.” His eyebrows drew together as his head jerked up. “Perhaps without your influence, my daughters will focus on studying and staying undetected, rather than learning how to scale the castle walls.” 

Arabella jerked toward her as understanding slammed down like a lightning strike.  

“Malinda—wait,” I began. 

The Queen addressed the Cullen soldiers, ignoring me completely. “Take him to the bottom of the sea.”

They seized upon him instantly, their claws hooking his clothing, their reddish eyes rolling. The Queen turned to her only son for one last look. “Do not come back,” she told him. “Not ever.” 

Arabella lurched toward Taliesin, but Cullen had already dragged him to the edge of the dock and shoved him off, into the icy waters of the sea. Before she could reach them, the Cullen vanished beneath the surface of the inky water. My brother struggled between them as they pulled his legs, yanking him down into the depths. 

“No!” I screamed. But my words did nothing; they were as empty as the wind. My brother was gone and even I, one of the Three Fates, could not bring him back. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the author:

Discuss ways the author incorporates mythology into the narrative.

Were you familiar with the Three Fates before this book? Which character did you find most compelling, and why?

What role does fate or destiny play in the characters' lives?

In what ways does the protagonist evolve throughout the narrative?

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