QK Agent Round: My Life as a Teenage Pirate Queen - YA High Fantasy

Entry Nickname: My Life as a Teenage Pirate Queen
Title: Bones of the Rabbit
Word Count: 88,000
Genre: YA High Fantasy

Query:
Eighteen-year-old Uriel Edan knows what people say about her. She’s a killer, a child of destruction, more like a savage dog than human--and the last heir of a dying line of sea lords. Uriel’s sure where she stands when it comes to her own people’s hate and fear of her. With her newly betrothed, she’s not just uncertain, she’s clueless.

Uriel knows her father is desperate to get rid of her—the daughter that killed his wife and son—but she expects poison, not a proposal to Askeladden Nyström, a powerful man from an ancient seafaring family. With Askeladden, Uriel expects lonely days and painful nights, but is surprised when he treats her with kindness. Slowly, she finds herself falling in love with the only person who sees her as something other than a murderer.

Her fragile peace is shattered when Askeladden reveals his plan to destroy the sea lords’ ocean kingdom and rebuild it from the ashes—a plot he urges Uriel to join. Joining Askeladden may give Uriel the respect and love she’s always craved, but she must decide if it’s worth her kingdom, culture, and proving the killer reputation she’s longed to leave behind.

First 250:
As my captor forced me to his master, I at least had the grim satisfaction that I’d put up a hell of a fight before going down. The bag covering my eyes didn’t stop me from guessing where I was headed. When I was pushed down on the coarse floorboard, the warship rocking beneath me confirmed my suspicious.

From across the cabin, I heard his voice. “It took all this?” Disapproval dripped from his voice. No change there. He sounded like he had six months ago.

My captor said, “She’s not one to come quietly.”

“Leave us.”

Footsteps retreated until a door slammed shut. I swallowed as the sack was lifted from my head, blinking away at the lights of my father’s quarters.

Jorah Edan stared at me with more fury than any storm. Father like daughter, I gave him the same look back.

Finally, he spoke, “Well?”

I observed him. “You’ve grown bald.”

My father sat down on his berth with a huff. The bed creaked and groaned; it was older than both of us combined. “Six months. Six months and all you can say is I’ve grown bald?”

“It was on my mind,” I said, pulling at the bindings on my wrist. He noticed, but made no effort to untie me. I longed for my dagger; the ivory-handled weapon sat beside my father. A bit of dried blood colored the brown leather. At least I managed to cut the bastard. He won’t be using his hand the same again.