Last Best Quest Ever

by F.T. Lukens

Genres: YA Romance

Synopsis

A fraudulent teen quester must team up with a brooding, royal rival on a perilous adventure to save her brother’s life in this cozy young adult romantasy full of mythical creatures by the New York Times bestselling author of Spell Bound and So This is Ever After.

Seventeen-year-old Ellinore has the best questing record of anyone in the kingdom’s history. She also has a secret: her fame is built entirely on lies. Tired of the charade, she shocks the kingdom by retiring at a royal feast. But her plans for a quiet life are disrupted when her twin brother Zig bets his life that Ellinore can retrieve the horn of the mythical Elder Beast. To save Zig, she reluctantly sets out on one last, perilous quest.

Accompanying her are Zig, determined to help despite his recklessness; Aven, her envious rival eager to prove their superiority; an ambitious bar maiden turned adventurer; and a young, magic-wielding bard. Together, they face an arduous journey fraught with mythical challenges and shifting alliances. As they search for the Elder Beast, Ellinore grapples with her growing feelings for Aven, her fear of losing Zig, and her identity as a reluctant hero.

With time running out, Ellinore must confront not only the legendary creature but also her own truths. Can she save her brother, embrace her potential, and finally decide her path?

Release date: May 26, 2026

Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books

Print pages: 336

Sample

Chapter 1 1
IF I HAD LEARNED ANYTHING in my years of questing, it was that members of the royal court always appreciated a grand entrance.

They were gluttons for pageantry and suspense. They salivated over any spectacle and devoured drama and pomp. And since the upper class didn’t have to work for a living, unlike lowly peasants such as myself, they had endless hours to fill with various forms of entertainment. Gossip, secret liaisons, and treason were the normal fare, but even elaborate plans for a coup d’état became boring after a while. Thus, they invented different avenues of distraction, diversion, and amusement.

The kingdom’s monarchs organized all manner of competitions and celebrations, much to the delight of the lords, ladies, and lieges of the court. They gorged themselves on lavish feasts, sophisticated fashion, and complicated dancing. And, of course, there were the tournaments. The monarchs loved to watch knights pummel one another with dull swords or spear one another with pointy sticks while hurtling at full speed on horseback. Unfortunately for the spectators, the court couldn’t indulge in sword fights and jousting matches daily, or there would be no knights to defend against the threat of warlords, bandits, and the sporadic vengeful gnome. So they had to turn to other sources of daring entertainment.

That’s where I came in.

I was an expert at questing, the broad term for a variety of daring and courageous tasks, including monster hunting, magic or divine object retrieval or destruction (depending on the day), and the occasional VIR (very important royal) recovery mission. (Princess Avriel was very excited when I showed up to rescue her from the swamp sprites instead of Lord Ethan, as he harbored a very large and very unrequited crush on her and had vowed to be her champion despite his utter lack of prowess when it came to feats of rescue or romance.)

Anyway, I was great at winning quest competitions. The best at it, in fact, in the entire kingdom. Exalted throughout all the land. And though I wasn’t someone who enjoyed prolonged attention, it was an act I was willing to play for the gold.

For a time.

With my vast experience in these matters, I knew that absolutely nothing topped a theatrical last-second entrance.

Which was how I came to be there, impatiently waiting outside the closed double doors of the castle’s great hall for my final performance. I pressed my ear to the glossy polished wood while I listened for the best moment to announce my arrival. If this was to be the last time I would enter the presence of royalty as the most decorated quest competitor in all of Avoury, I would do so in style. Magnificent, boorish, boasting style. Even if it meant upstaging my opposition, and especially if it irritated my fiercest competitor.

Princet Aven was fun to tease.

“Well, as no one else has returned from the Dark Wood,” the king’s voice rang out, “then I believe I must declare Princet Aven the—”

Ah, my cue. I rammed my shoulder against the heavy door so it swung wide open, startling the guards and the banner bearers, and cutting the king off mid-sentence. The ornately carved handle slammed into the stone wall, the impact reverberating amid the gasps of the court as I took a brash step over the threshold. I swept my brown hair to the side, revealing my blood-splattered face, and tossed the tattered hem of my cloak over my shoulder to full effect. Between the sword at my side and my dirtied leather armor, I appeared gruesome and battle worn as I stood proudly at the back of the hall, every inch the mighty adventurer the bards proclaimed me to be.

“Sorry I’m late,” I called as I strode in, lugging the heavy corpse of a monstrous spider behind me by its own web, which was kind of poetic in a macabre and gross way. “I was a little caught up.” The crowd stared at me in stunned silence. “Caught up. Get it?” I sighed. The castle court had no sense of humor. “The spiderweb?” I jiggled the thick strands entwined around my hands for emphasis. A twitter of disgusted laughter echoed throughout the chamber but abruptly changed to horrified gasps when one of the long, hairy legs of the spider twitched. The thud of a liege fainting followed shortly after.

I gripped the sticky fibers I’d looped over my shoulder and dragged the creature across the stone with a foul scrape and squelch. The ribbon of carpet that led to the royal dais bunched beneath the eight-legged carcass, while a wide swath of black blood and green, viscous venom seeped from beneath it, spreading out toward the jeweled toes of the courtiers, who pressed handkerchiefs over their mouths to ward off the stench.

Yeah. It was dead. Very dead, despite the occasional postmortem spasm. And heavy.

I grinned as my gaze slid to Princet Aven. My stomach leaped gleefully at their attractive pout, their fair skin reddening with annoyance as they crossed their arms over their pristine royal outfit. Aven had a wheelbarrow of smaller spiders, adolescents compared with the one I was dragging toward the raised thrones of the king and queen. Not a bad showing for the second best, and if I had been one minute later, they’d have won the challenge and the court’s favor this time.

There were other participants lined up behind Aven, some with a smattering of dead spiders and one with a large bat. Lord Ethan, with his ridiculous curled mustache, had obviously missed the entire point of the adventure, which was to cull the Dark Wood’s man-eating spider population down to a manageable level.

The Dark Wood was thick and wild, and during peak foliage season it was so dense that light scarcely broke through the canopy of leaves. The populace thought it cursed, but the path cutting through it was the shortest way between the farms and ports on the northern edge of the continent and the rest of the kingdom. Taking the route through the wood took a third of the time it would take to venture around the perimeter—which for a trader or a farmer was no menial deviation.

Unfortunately, the spider population had exploded as an unhappy herald of spring. I and my fellow questers had been tasked with bringing back as many dead creatures as possible to create a safer way through the wood for the prime trading months of the spring and summer. The reward was a sack of gold and the esteem of the kingdom.

It was the perfect last quest. A way to earn a bit of gold and one last chorus of enthusiastic huzzahs.

I paused next to Princet Aven and bowed to the king and queen, seated on their thrones atop the raised platform. The bulbous body of my bounty smelled like death, the stink wafting anew each time I moved it. It was positively vile. But the king stared, delighted, and the queen giggled as I dropped the web to the floor with a loud splat.

“I apologize for my tardiness, Your Majesties.” I bowed again at the waist. “This,” I said with a gesture toward the body, “was difficult to lug all the way from the depths of the Dark Wood.”

Aven rolled their blue eyes and dropped their arms with a soft huff. I ignored them, though I inwardly preened.

“You’re forgiven, of course, Ellinore,” the queen said. “Especially as you have brought a fine specimen.”

The king gestured to the stone wall behind them, where a gigantic bear rug hung above a recessed stone shelf. The ledge held a quill from a manticore, a magnificent pearl from the Eastern Sea, a silver thimble from the swamp sprites, and a scale from the famed Golden Dragon, about the size of a small shield, which gleamed in the sunlight. “Yes. The fangs will make an excellent addition to the other trophies you have brought to us.”

I internally flinched but hid my distaste behind a wide smile. “I agree, Your Majesty.” One of the spider’s brittle legs cracked and fell off, eliciting another waft of death so overpowering that I clamped my mouth shut to keep from vomiting.

The king wrinkled his nose. “A quite pungent creature.”

I laughed through my clenched teeth. “Yes. Well, it’s dead. That’s what happens.”

“Of course.” The king’s gaze cut to Aven, standing by my side. “I was just about to declare my dear brother’s only child, Princet Aven, the winner of this little competition, as they have killed the most spiders. But we cannot deny that once again you have prevailed.”

“Wait. How did she win?” Aven asked, gesturing to the corpse behind me. “That’s one spider. The quest was to kill many spiders. To decrease the population.” They pointed at their wheelbarrow. “Twelve is much greater than one.”

“Princet Aven does have a point,” the king said, stroking his gray beard. He was a stately man, a warrior in his day, and the sharpness of his blue eyes was rivaled only by Aven’s. “The quest did specify quantity.”

“Yes, Princet Aven does have a magnificent point,” I said with a wink in their direction. “And while this is but one spider compared with Princet Aven’s bounty, this is a mother spider. And all her eggs are also now… gone.” Gone, but not dead. Merely relocated by a friend. But that bit of information would remain between myself, my friend, and the ancients. “And she cannot procreate again.”

“Well done, Ellinore.” The king cleared his throat and addressed the crowd. “Once again I hereby declare Ellinore the Brave—the Spider Slayer—the winner. She has triumphed in this quest!”

I beamed in spite of the name. I’d always despised epithets, but “the Spider Slayer” wasn’t too awful. It was better than some of the other ones the king had bestowed on me previously. The crowd clapped politely as the rest of the competitors dispersed with grumbles and envious looks. Lord Ethan sniffed as he passed and checked his shoulder hard against mine, his steel armor knocking my already-loose leather pauldron askew. The prick. He had a chip on his shoulder larger than the dragon scale displayed on the shelf.

Aven didn’t move from their position by the thrones and frowned as I accepted the sack of gold from a nearby page and a bouquet of colorful flowers from another, a mix of bright cosmos, delphiniums, and small pink roses. With my back straight, I endured the praise and adulation from those courageous enough to skirt around the stretch of the giant spider’s legs to speak with me. They were mostly young lieges of the court, dressed fashionably, and blushing as they asked me about my adventure. There were a few older nobles as well, vying for me to move to their fiefs, though I had no intention of doing so. Interest finally began to dwindle, most likely because of my curt answers and forced, frozen smile. Or maybe it was the thick stench. Either way, I was left to make my escape.

That was when Aven chose their moment. “Like you need another purse of gold,” they said as they bent their head close to mine, tone low but sharp. Their eyes glinted with a perceptiveness I didn’t appreciate, and they exuded an aura that, thanks to the breadth of their shoulders and royal bearing, would eclipse mine in any other circumstance. “You’ve won the last five competitions. Isn’t that enough?”

“Six competitions. And that’s rich coming from you,” I said, wedging the gold into the bag at my hip. “Literally.”

“I would have donated it to charity, of course. Some worthy cause.”

I tapped my chin in thought. “Do you consider your own coffers a worthy cause?” One fun fact about acting as Ellinore the Brave—she was kind of a jerk.

Aven scoffed. They brushed a piece of imaginary lint from their tunic sleeve, showing off the golden thread and intricate embroidery around the cuffs. Aven was the pinnacle of royalty, from the shine of their glossy black hair and the gold glint of the earrings that lined the curves of both their ears, to the makeup expertly applied around their eyes. Their sturdy leather boots were polished to a glow, and their trademark bow and quiver were made with the straightest wood and the finest feathers—peacock, pheasant, and raven alike.

Aven was currently last in line for the throne, the king’s dead brother’s only child, sometimes referred to as the Pointless Princet. With five cousins who were the children of the king and queen, they barely held a claim, and they’d fall even further down the rungs once the oldest cousin, Princet Avia, ascended the throne and named their own heirs. Maybe that was why Aven was perpetually in a bad mood.

“At least don’t spend it all in the first tavern you find. Save some for a leatherworker and have that buckle fixed.” Aven nodded toward my shoulder. “One firm hit and that pauldron will give.”

Embarrassed, I clapped my free hand over the distressed strap of my armor. I knew the buckle and leather were on their last legs, but I didn’t see the use in getting it repaired when this would be my last quest. And I hadn’t thought anyone would notice. I lifted my chin and swished my long, loose hair, tangled as it was. “Well, maybe that will allow you the chance to actually best me.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. Here.” I smacked the flowers against their chest. “These suit you more than they do me.”

Aven’s jaw clenched, and the tips of their ears turned red, a dead giveaway that I’d successfully annoyed them. They took the bouquet anyway. “You’re infuriating.”

“I aim to please,” I said, a genuine smile stealing over my features. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home. With my bag of shiny new coins.”

I turned my back to them, all set to march right out of the throne room, until the king’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Not staying for the feast, Ellinore?” the king called.

I went rigid as all the attention in the room swung back in my direction. I took a fortifying breath, plastered a pleasant smile on my face, then turned and faced the king. I bowed as elegantly as I could, which was not elegantly at all.

“No, Your Majesty. I’ve been in the Dark Wood for several days, and I would like to return home.”

“You can stay here,” the queen said, resting her hand on the arm of her throne, the flash of the jewels in her rings highlighting the cool undertones of her deep-brown skin. “You could quickly bathe and change into a spare gown and—”

“You’re too kind, Your Majesty.” A gown. As if. Who did she think I was? “But I’ve left my brother unsupervised for too long.”

“I thought he was your twin,” Aven said, their mouth pulling into a slow smirk. “Surely, he’d be fine for another day. He’s almost an adult, after all.”

“He is my twin. But there is no telling what kind of trouble he can find without me there.” That was an understatement. I only hoped that the house was still standing.

“Ah, siblings,” the king said. “I understand how troublesome they can be.”

Aven’s teasing expression turned cold and sour for the span of a blink, before smoothing into something bland and neutral. I hated watching their personality recede behind a blank mask, as it often did under the scrutiny of the court. It was one of the reasons I always teased them, to bring out the person I knew existed beneath it.

“Anyway,” the king continued, “at least regale us with the tale of how you were able to slay this magnificent creature and her brood, so the bards may spin another rousing song of Ellinore the Brave.”

My smile grew tight. My tongue was thick in my mouth as my mind whirred for a good answer. I’d hoped to make it out of the castle before anyone asked for details. “Right. A stirring tale for the bard.” In the corner of the hall, a bard sat with his quill perched over a parchment, ready to take down my words, his lute propped nearby. Ugh. Bards were the worst. Almost as horrible as mages.

I coughed into my fist. “It was a short fight,” I said finally, patting the sword at my side. “No match for the best steel in the kingdom. Again, thank you for the gift. I couldn’t have defeated the creature without it.”

I may have hated playing the social game, but I knew how to appeal to vanity. The sword had been a gift from the monarchs after the quest of the Golden Dragon and had been made by the finest swordsmith in all the kingdom. Maybe a bit of flattery and gratitude would distract them long enough to let me make my getaway.

“Oh, very good to hear our gift was of help,” the queen said, drinking from a goblet worth more than the pouch I’d just received. “But I bet it was harrowing all the same.”

“Yes! Very harrowing. Incredibly harrowing. The most harrowing. It was dark in the Dark Wood, obviously. I was very deep in the interior, and it was difficult to see. The spider did have the upper hand with the web and venomous fangs and all, but I landed several blows. I managed to defeat it and win. As I always do.”

The bard scribbled furiously in the corner. Another round of polite applause swept through the room as the king and queen nodded their heads. Aven frowned while circling the spider, stepping over the river of ooze. They poked at a leg with a gloved finger, and the brittle limb creaked.

“Well, if the bard has any questions,” I added hastily, taking a step backward, “he may contact me in my home village. Thank you.”

“Wait,” the king said with a chuckle. “Not so fast, Ellinore. Please, indulge us by answering one last question before you take your leave. What do you intend to do with the winnings?”

My throat went as dry as a desert. I gripped the hilt of my sword, my fingers curling around the leather. I licked my lips as the crowd leaned in, hanging by a thread for my answer.

“Retire.”

The great hall fell morbidly silent. So quiet, the only sound was the audible gasp of a nearby servant. Aven snapped their head around, abandoning the spider’s corpse.

“What?” they breathed.

Their question sparked a ripple of conversation that ran through the onlookers, courtiers and servants alike, while the king glowered down at me from his throne.

“Retire?” the king demanded. “From questing?”

“Yes,” I said firmly.

Aven narrowed their eyes. “You’re only seventeen.”

A tingle of irritation worked down my spine at their tone, and the mention of my age. I was aware I was quite young to retire. And we were of a similar age. They’d had their eighteenth birthday a few months ago, and because they were royalty, there had been a big feast and competition. I had won, of course. Beating them on their birthday had been particularly satisfying. They’d gotten over it. Probably.

“Yes. But I’ve been questing for years, and to be honest, I’m exhausted.”

“A rest, then,” the queen said, smiling gently. “A well-earned respite until you return for the summer season.” She touched her spouse’s hand, which had curled into a fist. “And she’ll return fitter and fiercer for it!”

I wanted to argue, to tell them I had no intention of returning for the summer tournaments, but that would just keep me here longer. I nodded.

“Yes. A rest.”

The king clapped his hands. “Wonderful. Well, then, let us feast.”

Before anyone else could stop me, I hurried down the carpet, dodging the ooze I’d dragged in, and made it out of the double doors into the castle’s main hallway. I leaned against the cool stone and inhaled a steadying breath. I rubbed my hands over my face, my thin bracelet slipping down my wrist. Thank the ancients that would be the last time I’d have to pretend to be an extrovert. The last time I would have to pretend to be a hero.

“Ellinore the Brave?”

I startled, pushing myself from the wall, immediately transforming from haggard and exhausted Ellinore into the extraordinary champion everyone expected.

“Yes?” My voice squeaked in pitch. Yes. I was an impressive hero.

A girl approached me dressed in an elegant muted-green dress, which was stunning against the warm sepia tone of her skin. Her hair was twisted and styled in the popular way of the women of the court, a stark contrast to my tangled hair hanging in my face. Jewels adorned her fingers and her neck, and any composure I’d gathered fled in the face of her soft smile.

She offered me a cloth sack. “Food for your journey. From the feast.”

“Oh, thank you.” I took the bag gratefully, with an awkward, deferential nod. I may have been a decorated quester, but I was still a peasant.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for… helping our traders and farmers. That spider was quite gruesome.”

“Ah. Yes. That.” Oh no, she wanted to talk about the quest. Must flee.

“I’ve greatly enjoyed hearing about your quests. You’re so brave and admirable.” She batted her long eyelashes. Oh no, this might be more than just quest talk. Must flee squared. “The tale about the Golden Dragon is my favorite.”

“Oh, yes. That was a… great quest.”

“I was wondering—”

“Well. Um… look at the time. I really must be going. Thanks for the food. Bye.”

I brushed past her and all but ran toward the stables. I exited the castle, gracefully tripping down the stone steps of the entrance into the square courtyard, focused on escape.

Footsteps followed me as I crossed the cobblestones, and I desperately hoped it wasn’t the courtier trying to engage in more conversation.

“You’re lying,” a voice said from behind me. Oh, it was worse than the courtier. It was Aven. I stopped in my tracks, stiffening in fear until they continued. “You have no intention of returning for the summer quests.”

I sighed before I turned to face them. “I thought you’d be happy. You’ll win for once.”

Their ears glowed red, but it may have been the heat from the late-afternoon sun instead of their obvious irritation. The weather was warm for an early-spring day, and sweat gathered under my tunic. I couldn’t wait to divest myself of my cuirass, tassets, and bracers. Not to mention the pauldron that was barely hanging on. I didn’t know how Aven stood it in their brocaded layers and the high lace collar tight around their throat.

The courtyard was empty for the time of day; most of the servants who would normally be bustling by were occupied with the feast. Other than the whinnies from the nearby stable, and the occasional caw from a bird overhead, Aven and I were alone.

“You can’t retire,” they said.

Why did they always have to be so contrary all the time? “You may be royalty, but you’re not the king. You can’t order me not to, you know. I am retiring.”

Their brow furrowed, dark eyebrows pulling together. “But you’re the best.”

“It’s nice to hear you admit it.”

“I’ve always admitted it,” they rebutted quickly. “It’s why I strive to be better. So I can beat you. One day.”

My cheeks heated in the face of their sincerity. I hated how a well-placed compliment from them could unravel the solid façade I’d projected for the last several years. “Well. Now you’re the best. Congratulations!” I gestured awkwardly with my hands to convey my false cheer.

“No.” They shook their head. “I don’t want to be the best because you’ve left. I want to be the best by beating you. In the summer competition.”

I pressed my fingers into my eyes, which were stinging from both the sunlight and fatigue. “Princet Aven, I smell like dead spider, and I want to go home. Please have your existential crisis on your own time.”

They blinked. “I’m not having an existential crisis.”

“You literally are. In front of me. It’s not cute.” Actually, it was kind of cute, especially when the red of their ears deepened and a blush seeped into their pale cheeks.

“Retirement doesn’t suit you. You’ll be bored to tears in a week.”

“I disagree.” I crossed my arms. “I think it suits me fine. Great, even. It’ll be fun and amazing.”

“What do you even plan to do?”

“Garden,” I said, lifting my chin. “Knit. Bake. Write. And grow old with a bunch of cats.” I didn’t mention the piece about figuring out who I was beneath the Ellinore the Brave mantle. Aven wouldn’t understand. They were born royalty. They knew who they were and who they could be without ever having to question. I had made a life of pretending, of assuming a persona so my family had a chance at a better life. I was an actor, and I was at my breaking point.

“Garden? Cats? That’s not you.”

“You don’t know me,” I shot back. They had no right to say that. They only knew the part I played, not the real me. I barely knew who that was. “Don’t pretend we’re anything other than competitors.”

They matched my defensive posture, their armguard catching on their ornate sleeve. “Fine. Leave. But mark my words, you’ll be back. And I’ll be ready.”

“I won’t, but whatever. Have fun, Princet Aven. Try not to die.”

They squawked in offense as I hastily sped toward the stables.

My steed, a beautiful bay mare with a black mane, was as happy to see me as I was to see her. Declining the help of the stable hands, I pulled her out of the stall by her halter and adjusted my saddle, then tucked the new bag of gold and bundle of food into the saddlebag.

“Come on, Bluebell,” I said, patting her neck. She nickered and pressed the smooth velvet of her nose against my hand. “Let’s go visit our good friend. Then we’ll ride home and make sure Zig isn’t locked in a dungeon or back in the stocks.”

I mounted and rode out of the castle grounds, under the portcullis, and over the drawbridge, until I was on the road headed to my home village on the outskirts of the castle’s looming influence. Though Aven may have been watching, and though the competitions and contests had been good to me over the years and had allowed me to provide for my family, and though the bards had sung charitably of my feats, I didn’t look back.

Not once.