by Steph Beth Nickel
Speculating about Premise
Below are the first three pages of my YA spec fiction manuscript. Just for fun, create a What if . . .? question reflecting what you think my premise may be.
Reminder: On Dani Petrey’s website, she poses this What if . . .? question about Raiders of the Lost Ark: “What if an archaeologist is hired by the U.S. government to find the lost Ark of the Covenant before the Nazis do?”
Excerpt from Rule and Reign by Steph Beth Nickel
“Still sleeping? Unbelievable! Your responsibilities as Princess of Betria begin in less than a full measure?”
My grandmother’s voice cuts through the fog of sleep. I sit up and stretch. The thin cover falls and bunches on my lap, but today I don’t mind the chill in the air. Or the too-bright light shining in my eyes from the hallway. Or the fact that the dampness from the stone floor is seeping through my mattress.
A smile spreads across my face. Orphan or not, I finally have a voice. No one will mention my arrival day. But today I turn seventeen and everything has changed. Before my father died four sun-cycles ago, he said my mother would want me to acknowledge the day the world became a brighter place—even if no one else did.
“Unita, a princess must learn to rule with a stern hand. There will be no ridiculous grinning when I present you to the council.”
“But, Grandmother—”
She clears her throat, and my vision has adjusted enough to see her pursed lips.
“My apologies . . . Council Lead.”
Council Lead Sila Jumalik, Grandmother, dips her chin, but her expression remains harsh. Maybe because her son died too soon and left me in her charge—me, a non-person until today. Still, I have my suspicions she never smiles. She certainly never laughs. I can’t even imagine it—and Father always said I have a remarkable imagination.
“Princess Unita Jumalik, would you kindly take your responsibilities seriously? You must remain attentive and not let your mind wander. I expect you in the dining hall in three-quarters of a full measure. Remember to dress appropriately. You will, after all, be dining with His Majesty—”
“Grandfather? I get to meet my grandfather today?”
I’ve never seen Grandmother speechless—or the color of bleached bed linens. Still, the look in her eyes all but bores a hole through my forehead.
Seventeen or not, I guess I’ll have to learn my place. I’ll never earn the elders’ respect and find the answers I’m looking for unless I do.
Darkness wraps around me again. Only the sunlight that pushes through the cracks in the castle wall lights my room. I wash with the frigid water from the basin in the corner. My grandmother sees no need to burn precious wood in the fireplace.
The door creaks as someone pushes it open. A young woman I’ve never seen before—three, maybe four sun-cycles older than I am—stands in the doorway, her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor in front of her. “You needn’t do that.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. ”I have drawn you a bath in your chambers.”
“My . . . my what?”
“Your chambers, Miss. The Princess of Betria cannot bathe and dress here.” She scans the room, scowls, and shakes her head. “It would never do.”
I shrug. “Just let me gather my clothes—”
The girl gasps. “Oh, pardon me, Princess. But . . . well, Council Lead Jumalik instructed me to burn your clothes.”
“She what?” I collapse onto the only chair in the room. It creaks but thankfully, doesn’t collapse, something I fear every time I sit in it.
“I’m sorry, Princess, but she was most adamant.”
“Is she ever anything but?”
“Princess?” The girl looks over her shoulder as if expecting my grandmother to appear at any moment.
A brief laugh escapes my lips, and I throw both hands over my mouth. The faintest smile crosses the girl’s face.
I grab my threadbare dressing gown. “Well, lead on. We don’t want to keep the Council Lead waiting.” Or my grandfather.
As we walk down a long, narrow hallway, I wonder where we could be going. I’ve never been allowed this far into the castle. My room is—was—on the outer wall, as far removed from the royal chambers as possible.
“This way, Princess. The Council Lead will have my head if you’re not in the dining hall on time.”
I shudder, wondering if she means that literally. Surely not! “We can’t have that.” I increase my pace. “And another thing . . .”
“Yes, Princess?”
“That.”
“That what, Princess?”
“My name’s Unita.”
“Yes, you are Her Royal Highness Unita Jumalik, Princess of Betria. Shall I use your full title? I didn’t mean to offend.”
I reach out to touch her shoulder. She freezes. “I—” I squeeze her shoulder gently. “Please turn around.”
When she does, her eyes are wide, and beads of perspiration rim her hairline.
Steph Beth Nickel is an editor, writer, and author. Steph is the InScribe Contest Coordinator. She previously served as the Moderator of the InScribe Pro Blog and the Editor-in-Chief of the InScribe quarterly magazine, FellowScript.
thanks for this sneak peek, Steph!