The Children(122)

Benjamin cut in. His voice was icy, his face an unhealthy shade. He’d gotten his feet back under him. “That’s not how Jonathan Froud worked. Across five major bestsellers he worked hand in glove with your mother. You may have the name and the copyright, but you two are not Edith Sharpe. And no offense, Laura, but you are not Jonathan.”

“Jonathan Froud was a bad man.” Ennis spoke mildly, hands folded on the table. “Unless you’d like us to elaborate on that, publicly, I don’t want to hear his name again.”

Benjamin’s face slackened. Guin watched her brother’s words work their way around the table before she spoke. “Thank you, Laura. I think I’ll prefer your methods to Jonathan’s.”

“Oh, that’s . . . very good,” the editor said, flustered. “I’m glad to hear it.”

The ring of smooth professional faces had changed. Gone avid, on the edge of afraid. They looked at the Sharpes as if they might do anything. And Guin thought, Good.

Fern, too, was feeding on the tension. She addressed a fiftyish man in rolled-up shirtsleeves, one arm tattooed with faded thorns. “Ray, you shared a concern with me. Let’s get that one out in the open.”

Ray gave her a filthy look. “Thank you, Fern. It’s not something I felt we had to cover in kickoff, but sure. Your, uh . . .” He lifted his own hand. “Your hands. I can’t help but—I do think it’s something we need to get a handle on.” He winced. “No wordplay intended. But in terms of how we talk about it. Your mother lost her . . . and then, Ennis, you lost yours. And, uh. Guinevere, you’ve also had some kind of accident? It’s no longer something we can choose not to address. So I thought, maybe you tell us how these . . . coincidences occurred, and we figure out a united approach for when various outlets ask. Because they will ask. They are asking.”

He stopped talking and threw back the cava that had been bubbling in front of him untouched.

Ennis crossed one long leg over the other, made a scissor gesture with his unmaimed hand. “You could tell people we removed them in homage to our mother. That’d make a good story, right?”

“Great,” Ray muttered. “Thanks.”

Benjamin Crane shot to his feet and spoke in strangled tones. “That is deeply inappropriate. These are the offices of Hart & Crane, not—Sharpe & Sharpe. You’re being disrespectful to my team and to the memory of your mother. We’ve been good to you, Guin, all these years. We’ve been good to the books.”

“You haven’t published a breakout in six years,” Fern said. “We all know it’s Edith Sharpe’s backlist that’s keeping the lights on. With profound confidence I can say you need my clients more than my clients need you. You’re not running this meeting, Benjamin, you’re here in a listening capacity. I’m asking you to please sit down and listen.”

Fern’s hands were delicately folded. She glowed like fucking Boudica. Guin wanted to clap, and she was pretty sure half the room wanted to clap with her. After a pause so long and painful you could almost sympathize, Benjamin sat.

“Alright, Guinevere.” Ennis gave her a half smile. “You want to take this one?”

This, Guin thought, was what it was to be a Sharpe, properly. No, this was what it was to be free. For this world and all its thin pleasures to be utterly beside the point. She could feel the key to Mother’s land hanging beneath her shirt. “Thanks, Ennis. Okay, team.”

As Guin leaned forward, half the table physically drew back. She could see in their faces who she was now, how much she had already changed. She smiled and addressed the room at large.

“Here’s how it’s going to go.”





Interstitial




COVER OF THE NINTH CITY’S ELUSIVE “SIXTH BOOK” REVEALED

Entertainment Weekly

Last year it was announced that Edith Sharpe’s landmark children’s series, the Ninth City, would receive its long-awaited final volume, following the tragic death of its author and a twenty-year gap. In a move that has both thrilled and divided fans, Sharpe’s daughter, Guinevere, signed on to write the final installment, titled The Architect’s Key.

This morning on the Today show, Guinevere revealed the book’s enchanting cover, designed and illustrated by Sharpe’s son, celebrated artist Ennis Sharpe. She also gave fans yet another reason to preorder: the first ten thousand books sold will include an actual pen-and-ink sketch by Ennis, numbered, signed, and bound into the book.

Famously, the siblings served as the inspiration for their mother’s young protagonists, lending them their names and, as seen in the series’ iconic original cover art, their likenesses. When asked about the decision to complete their mother’s series, Guinevere said, “Ninth City readers have given us so much. It’s their passion and commitment that inspired us to share the final chapter of the story our mother began so long ago. Our message to her readers is this: You have been present in our lives since we were children. With the release of The Architect’s Key, we hope to pay back all you have done for us.”

Read on for an excerpt from The Architect’s Key, slated for release this summer.





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A little girl sat in a tower room, at the top of a tree hung with keys. They were gold and iron, silver and bronze. When the wind came through they made a high metal music. On sunny days they cast dancing points over the streets, and the people of the Ninth City called it a lightstorm.