“You said there were no other people in the world Below.”
The Lord Under looks at me curiously. “There aren’t.”
I blink and look again. The darkened shapes have vanished. There are only the trees and the spaces between them. Whatever I saw must have been a trick of the light, a dance of shadows across the mist-laced woods.
The ground levels out, and we enter a clear space lined with mothlights. Before us is an enormous tree. But it’s not like the other heartwoods, with red bark and sharp, needle-fine leaves. This one is branchless and smooth and white, like it’s been carved from bone. And as we draw closer, the bare, pale trunk begins to shift and change. The wood creaks and groans before peeling back to reveal the tender heart beneath.
Sap oozes down over the raw edges of the newly made arch. It smells fresh and sharp, like the bundled pine torches we burned at the Summersend fire. Inside, beyond the opening, there’s a hollowed space that’s all darkness. The Lord Under carries me toward the archway. He carries me inside.
I shiver and shiver and shiver. He puts his hand over my heart, and I flinch. “You’re not frightened, are you, my Violet?” He smiles, amused. “After you promised not to fear me.”
I swallow, with effort. “I’ll never fear you. Never.”
“I’ll gladly accept your fear, should you change your mind. I told you before, you wear it well.”
Inside the tree, the air is full of whispers, scented with petrichor and mist. I hear the voice of the Corruption; I hear the voices of other souls. The Lord Under still has his hand on my chest. And then, beneath his touch, at the center of my heart, I feel the darkness stir.
My magic stretches and unfolds as the darkness is pulled toward him. Sparks dance across my fingers. My power, his power, my Corruption, all begin to twine together. It hurts. I draw in a tangled breath.
I touch the sigil inscribed on my bloodstained arm. I am here. I have crossed between worlds. I have fought and bled and won. I have been poisoned. I have been taken into the dark. But I can still feel the throb and pull of the spell that ties me to the world Above. The magic is on my skin, inside my skin. Written on my bones, my heart, my soul. I promised to come back, and I will.
I will.
The Lord Under holds me close. We go farther inside the hollow heart of the bone white tree. We go deeper, into darkness stretching endlessly before us. I lift my head. “Where are you taking me?”
He’s a silhouette, lit only by the silver mist that trails in from the forest. All I can see is the jagged-edged shape of the driftwood that wreathes his pale hair. The faintest outline of his face.
“I’m going to mend you.” He looks down at me and smiles. “Then you’ll go home.”
The juniper light wavers. Everything fades.
Acknowledgments
The very first seeds of Lakesedge were planted many years ago, in a short story I wrote during my honors year at the University of Adelaide. Seeing that story transform into a published book has been such a wonderful process, and I am eternally thankful for all of the people who helped bring it to life.
Firstly I’d like to pay my respects to the Peramangk people, the traditional owners of the lands where I grew up, and which inspired so much of the environment in Lakesedge, and to the Kaurna people, the traditional owners of the lands where I live now.
To my agent, Jill Grinberg, thank you for falling in love with the early, untamed version of Lakesedge and for believing in me as we worked through so many rounds of revision. You’ve taken such great care with my book, and I couldn’t have asked for a better advocate. Thank you as well to the entire team at Jill Grinberg Literary Management, especially Denise Page for your help and input, and Sam Farkas for your foreign rights magic.
To Tiff Liao, words cannot express how lucky I feel to have you as my editor. Your insightful advice has taught me so much about writing. I love how much you’ve always understood and celebrated the dark, romantic heart of my book. Thank you for indulging my enthusiasm for monster boyfriends and endless amounts of kissing scenes. I truly appreciate all your hard work and the time you’ve given to me and my story.
To the entire team at Henry Holt BYR and Mac Kids, I’m so grateful for all you’ve done to bring my book into the world. Rich Deas, thank you for creating the most gloriously gothic cover I’ve ever seen. I will forever be in love with your illustration of Leta! Brian Luster, your copyedits were a delight, and I am still smiling at how you pointed out the biggest flaw in the Lord Under’s plan—if only you had been the one making a bargain … Mark Podesta, your eleventh-hour support has been wonderful. And to Morgan Rath, thank you so much for your publicity magic, and for helping Lakesedge reach the hands of readers. Thanks also go to Ann Marie Wong, Teresa Ferraiolo, and Mandy Veloso.