Nameless Queen

In a society separated by Royal, Legal, and Nameless, A Nameless girl with no name called Coin, suddenly finds herself on the throne when the Royal black crown tattoo appears on her arm. Going from a homeless Nameless to a wealthy Royal, Coin fights to stay on the throne when everyone else wants her off the throne and dead.

This book was very uninventive. It did nothing new with the Girl becomes Queen trope.

The writing was just so juvenile and would have been better if it was released in like 2011, maybe 2012, not 2020. It would have fit right in with the other dystopias and I think I would liked it then. I think.

It's just.....this book is full of clichés, particularly for the MC.

Cocky and smooth heroine belongs to lowest caste in the kingdom, but finds out she has powers and is the chosen one. She also has only one friend who she separated from while she lives a life of luxury.

Coin is an EXPERT thief.

She never gets caught and always knows how to steal or break into somewhere.

“They may have searched me upon entry, but by the time they lead me into a quaint sitting room, my pockets are filled once again. My best take is a kitchen knife from an untended platter of half-eaten food. Granted, it's difficult to make thefts when my hands are shackled, but I keep my hands moving and clinking so they don't notice when I snatch something. It doesn't even occur to them to search me again. Big mistake.”

How?!

Glenquartz nods at last and withdraws from the door of the cell. I count the seconds as his footsteps fade, and I give it an extra five seconds before I put the key in the lock. I consider for a moment whether I should take the kitchen knife with me or not. If I stow it in the waste drain, it'll be here if I get arrested again. They'll search me, and they'll search the cell, but I'm betting they won't search the drain.

Once the cell door is open, I stuff the key in my pocket, hide the knife, and head out.

Coin has her powers on lock.

“See, the problem is you're trying to threaten me, but you're being polite about it. I grew up on the streets, so you'll have to do better than that. If you want to threaten someone, you do it like this.” I step closer so we're almost nose to nose, my voice dropping to a dead, even tone. “If you ever touch me again, or if I ever feel threatened by you”—I allow a delicate, careful smile to overtake my features—“I will kill you.”

“If I wanted to get asked questions I don't know the answer to,” I say, “I'd wait until my next etiquette lesson.”

“It's a rhetorical question that I'm about to answer,” Esther says impatiently.

“If it's rhetorical, can you answer it?” I muse.

Esther's nostrils flare. “You're being difficult, and it's making this conversation harder.”

I hold up a hand to indicate that I'll try to show some restraint.

so