Two Twisted Crowns (The Shepherd King, #2)(119)
A twig snapped to my left, and my gaze shot to the trees. And I must have been slow to understand, after a lifetime of gray mist, just how brilliant the sunlight was. Because for a moment—a fleeting, wonderful moment—I thought I saw him. Yellow eyes, peering at me through the trees.
But it was only the sun, shining through a rotted-out log.
Ravyn waited for me at the bend in the road.
“Thinking about the last time we were here?” he said, offering me his hand. “When you pummeled me to the ground?”
I pulled him close, stood on my toes, whispered into his lips. “One of my fondest memories.”
He kissed me, fingers weaving into my hair. “Mine too, Miss Spindle.”
Ravyn had not tapped the Shepherd Card. He did not cure himself with Emory and Jespyr and the others that came to Castle Yew. He’d used his magic to destroy the final Scythe Card. And though he had only said it to me in the quiet of our room, he did not wish to be cured. He, in his own small way, was still holding on to what had happened in the alderwood. To his magic, his secret legacy. To Taxus.
Which was why, when I looked back up the forest road, clenching and unclenching my jaw—click, click, click—Ravyn didn’t shy away from me. He knew as well as I did that the Nightmare was gone. But Aemmory Percyval Taxus had bled into me for so long that, somewhere in the dark, listless shore of my mind, he remained with me. For it was we who had drawn the circles. We, who had shepherded the others toward their destinies. We, who had rearranged the kingdom like trees in our very own wood.
And though it had taken slow, painful time, I knew who I was without him. I was more than the girl, the King, and the monster of Blunder’s dark, twisted tale.
I was its author.
Acknowledgments
It’s true what they say. Second books are fickle. Even a little monstrous. The hardship of writing my own didn’t spring forth in an all-out attack. It crept up slowly. I knew what I wanted for Two Twisted Crowns, and I knew how I wanted to get there. But the inevitably of saying goodbye to this duology, these characters, after so many years of carrying them with me, made writing devastating at times. This book had no regard for my marshmallow-soft heart. It did, however, help me grow in mindfulness and in skill. It taught me to get up and keep going. I will always cherish it for that. And, of course, I didn’t get through it alone.
To John and Owen. I love you and our quiet little life. Sometimes I can hardly believe it’s real, or how I got so unbelievably lucky.
To my family and friends, thank you for all your love and support and for letting me just sit and stare at the wall when my brain was soup over this book.
To Whitney Ross, my amazing agent. Thank you for your wisdom and for keeping my chaos tempered with your unflagging consistency and support. I still think about that email four years ago when you asked if I had time to “hop on a call” and my soul careered out of my body. I couldn’t have asked for a better teammate and friend along this journey.
To the team at Orbit. As a publisher—as a group of individuals—your consistent hard work and integrity blow me away. I look at my bookshelves, laden with Orbit titles, and feel such overwhelming pride. It’s been an honor and a dream to work with you on this duology.
To Brit Hvide, my editor—my Team Elm conspirator. I absolutely loved every moment of our collaboration. Your clever insight and encouragement made this book what it is today.
To my friend Kalie Cassidy. Our chats mean the world to me. It’s been so freaking nice to have someone to squeal (and wail into the void) with.
To Sarah Garcia. I know you’re proud of me because you display One Dark Window on top of those important medical books in your office. Thank you—I’m still cackling about it.
Lastly (but never least), to the readers and reviewers and artists who have cheered this duology on. You have knocked me over with your adoration. I get all misty-eyed thinking about it. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I have so much in store for you yet.
extras
meet the author
Rachel Gillig
Rachel Gillig was born and raised on the California coast. She is a writer and a teacher, with a BA in literary theory and criticism from UC Davis. If she is not ensconced in blankets dreaming up her next novel, Rachel is in her garden or walking with her husband, son, and their poodle, Wally.
Find out more about Rachel Gillig and other Orbit authors by registering for the free monthly newsletter at orbitbooks.net.
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TWO TWISTED CROWNS
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