We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from The Second Son by Adrienne Tooley, the second book in her young adult fantasy duology The Betrayal Prophecies—publishing with Christy Ottaviano Books on July 16th.
The centuries-old prophecy has been fulfilled at last: the New Maiden has returned to Velle. Unfortunately, so has a malicious demi-god, whose elusive prophet is intent on converting the New Maiden’s followers. The Second Son is a vengeful, angry deity, whose psalm resonates with the disenfranchised.
With Elodie on the throne and Sabine in her own unique position of power, it should be easy enough to track down the culprit. Yet even as they’re falling in love, both girls are keeping dangerous secrets from each other. While the cult of the Second Son threatens to overthrow not only the Church of the New Maiden but also Velle’s monarchy, Elodie and Sabine must navigate impossible odds to dismantle the root of his power, all while their lives hang in the balance.
Delegate dinners at Castle Warnou were notoriously ostentatious events. This evening, the linens were the cobalt blue of the Kirrish coat of arms and the silverware had been swapped out with cutlery that shined gold. Tables were arranged in the center of the ballroom’s polished floor in a U-shape, the better to see, the worse to hear.
Many an accidental enemy had been created this way, most notably the delegate from Upper Tyne who thought that the delegate from Lower Tyne had inquired: “May I lie with your wife?” instead of “May I borrow your knife?”
A different table arrangement might have prevented such misunderstandings, but subterfuge was an essential part of courtly politicking. The Kirrish delegation were only nominally important, children to placate with shiny objects. Elodie’s true audience tonight was Velle’s nobility.
Before the country learned of Edgar’s threats and the tarnished harvest, Elodie needed to ensure that public opinion was firmly on her side. Tera Warnou had taught her daughter that if she wanted to shape the narrative, she needed to start with those who held the most influence in her court.
To prime her guests for gossip, Elodie had arranged for servants to hover in the doorways, holding trays of bubbly nut wine. Glasses were pressed into the hands of the delegates and nobility as they entered. Peich-nat went down far too easily. In a matter of seconds, Elodie’s own glass was nearly empty. She’d intended to take a single sip to calm her nerves but had absentmindedly continued to drink and was now inauspiciously lightheaded as she greeted the guest of honor.
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The Second Son
“Chancellor Wilden.” Elodie’s skirt swished softly against the polished floor as she offered the man a half-curtsey. She still wasn’t used to the extra weight of the crown on her head. “It is a pleasure to enjoy your company tonight.”
The chancellor, a portly man close to her father’s age, inclined his head politely. “The pleasure is all ours, Majesty.” He clinked his glass with hers, then took a sip of the bubbling liquid. He grimaced. “Not my taste,” he grumbled. “Don’t suppose you have any plum brandy?”
Elodie fought the urge to roll her eyes. Not five minutes into the proceedings and the man was already insulting her. “Alas,” she said, smiling so wide it hurt, “I don’t suppose we do. Unless your delegation brought us a bottle as an offering?”
Of course, she knew they had not.
The chancellor wandered away with a mumbled excuse, discarding his glass on an empty tray. Elodie shook her head, hoping the bubbles in her brain might settle. Tonight, she desperately needed to keep her combative instincts at bay.
The Kirrish huddled in the far corner, no doubt gossiping about her aperitif. The more permanent fixtures in Velle’s court were chatting amongst themselves, fawning over the Duchess of the Upper Banks, who was dressed in a shimmering silk set that made her look like a spider’s web. Near the door stood Cleo, resplendent in a yellow gown, her dark hair pinned in an elegant bouffant. On her arm, inexplicably, was Artur Anders, looking uncomfortable in a cravat. It was the first time Elodie had seen Sabine’s brother in trousers that actually fit. The queen glided toward them.
“Artur,” she said, not bothering to hide her surprise. His name had not been included on the seating chart. “How unexpected.”
Artur turned to Cleo, looking panicked. “I thought you said—”
“It’s fine,” she interrupted, putting a hand on his arm placatingly. “Brianne told me Sabine had a difficult day,” Cleo told Elodie, as though this was a natural thing for her to know. “I thought a familiar face might help make this whole thing easier for her. Court dinners are not for the weakhearted.”
“She has work to do tonight,” Elodie said sharply, trying not to let on exactly how stressed she felt. “If the New Maiden dazzles the court, she may begin to command favor beyond Velle’s borders. I would not parade Sabine around without purpose.”
Cleo looked wounded. “I was only trying to help.”
Elodie sighed, very nearly running a hand through her hair, which would have disturbed the constellation of pins Marguerite had meticulously assembled. “I know, Cleo. I’m sorry, just… no more surprises tonight, all right?”
Cleo cleared her throat pointedly, eyes fixed on the door behind Elodie. “In that case, I’d advise not to look behind you.”
Elodie turned to watch Sabine enter the ballroom, a vision in white. The bodice of her gown was fitted closely to her form, and Elodie’s eyes followed every one of the New Maiden’s gentle curves. She clutched her wine glass with both hands. There was little left for her to imagine. The skirts fanned out, layers of tulle spilling from the soft swoop of Sabine’s waist. When she moved, it appeared the girl was walking on a cloud.
But the true surprise came when Elodie tore her eyes away from Sabine to take in the person beside her. Tal was outfitted in black, fingers decorated with silver rings, a gold chain glinting around his neck. There was a softness in his eyes that Elodie had not seen since they were children, a gentleness in his step. Sabine did not shy away from him. In fact, if Elodie had not known better, Tal and Sabine might have appeared a couple.
Half a step behind the pair was Rob, donning a purple doublet and looking cross. Elodie’s mood matched her brother’s. Tal and Sabine’s closeness discomfited her. Tal’s allegiance to the Second Son was in direct opposition to Sabine’s role as the New Maiden. Yet because Elodie had not warned Sabine of Tal’s rebel alliance, he had managed to infiltrate the New Maiden’s trust more easily than Elodie could have ever imagined.
Pressing her empty glass into Cleo’s hands, Elodie hurried to intercept the group near the doorway. She plucked another flute of peich-nat from an errant tray, and wondered at the pair of them, at Sabine’s ethereal beauty and Tal’s carefully indifferent expression. She wondered what they talked about.
Excerpted from The Second Son, copyright © 2024 by Adrienne Tooley.
