In the end, she couldn’t resist.
The paper unfolded like wings in her hands.
His words met her like a blade. She bowed over them.
Iris! Iris, it’s me, Kitt.
Epilogue
DACRE
Dacre waited for his eithrals to retreat for the second time before he began his approach to Avalon Bluff. His pets returned to their resting place underground, and he walked across the lush valley, full of hope.
The gas rose, limning the town in green. Green like the mountains, like the emeralds he wore on his fingers. Green like Enva’s eyes, which he still saw some nights when he slept below.
The mortals had done a fine task of creating this weapon for him. And he decided he wouldn’t burn this town, because he had other plans in mind.
With a graceful flick of his fingers, his motioned for his soldiers to rush ahead to scavenge. Sometimes they were good at picking the right ones. But other times, they chose poorly, and he was left with scraps of a being.
The secret was this: the will had to still be present in the spirit. It usually shined brightest right before death. Mortals ran either cold or hot, their souls like ice or fire. He had discovered long ago that ice served him best, but every now and then, fire would surprise him.
Dacre chose to take a long walk around the town. The wind was beginning to blow the gas to the wayside, and he followed its path to a golden field. He felt the staggering, gasping soul before he saw it. This one was made of ice—a cold, deep spirit like the northern sea.
It drew him closer. His feet made no sound, left no impression as they walked over the earth, seeking this dying mortal.
At last, Dacre found it.
A young man with raven dark hair was crawling through the grass. Dacre stood over him, measuring what remained. The mortal had a minute and thirteen seconds left before his lungs filled with blood and he expired. There were also wounds on his right leg.
Dacre was in a good mood that day. Or else he might have let the ice in this one melt away.
“My lord?”
Dacre turned to see Val, the strongest of his servants, standing in his shadow.
“My lord, we have almost secured the town. But a few of the lorries have escaped.”
The news should have angered Dacre, and Val was prepared for it, cringing when the god stared at him.
“So be it,” Dacre said, glancing back at the gasping mortal on the ground. Blood was dripping from his chin as he raised his head, eyes closed. He sensed Dacre’s presence. “This one.”
“Yes, what of this one, my lord?”
Dacre was quiet, watching the man crawl. What was he seeking? Why didn’t he just lie down and die? His soul was so anguished, nearly rent in half. It made Dacre wince.
But he could heal those wounds. He was a merciful god, after all. The god of healing. This mortal, once mended, would do very well in his army. Because Dacre suddenly realized with delight … this was no soldier, but a correspondent. And Dacre had never had one of those before.
“Take him below.”
Val bowed before he drew a ring in the ground, encircling the mortal. A quick way to open a portal, to pass below.
Satisfied, Dacre set his eyes eastward, on the path that would lead him to Enva.
Acknowledgments
“A girl who writes letters to her missing brother, and the boy who reads them.” I wrote that line down in my brainstorming journal on November 20, 2020, uncertain of where it would lead me. Of whether this enticing story morsel had enough magic to grow wings and become a novel. And yet here we are, Iris and Roman. I’ve always believed the right books find you at just the right moments, both as a reader and as an author, and I will never get over this wonder.
What a journey this novel has been, from its origins as a stray thought in my journal to a finished product that you’re now holding in your hands or listening to or reading on a screen. There are countless people who have invested their time, love, and expertise into this story and into me as an author, and I want to illuminate them here on these pages.
First, to Ben, my better half. You were with me every step of the way with this novel, and I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge here that you wrote soul-stirring love letters to me when we were dating. When I was in the mountains of Colorado and you were in the golden fields of Georgia. We didn’t have enchanted typewriters, but we had paper and pens and stamps, and it was all the magic I ever needed. And even now, years later, you continue to leave me notes here and there to find around the house. I love you.
To Sierra, for being the best watchdog and making sure I leave my desk to go for walks. Also, for cuddling next to me on the couch while I was revising this book.
To my Heavenly Father, who continues to take these small dreams of mine and multiplies them beyond anything I could ever imagine. Who loves me just as I am, and always has. You remain the strength and the portion of my heart.
To Isabel Iba?ez, my soul sister and critique partner. You read this book while I was drafting it, and your insights and notes transformed the story from a messy draft into something I am incredibly proud of today. Thank you for all the hours you’ve poured into my stories, and for giving me a second home in Asheville. You truly are the best.
To my agent, Suzie Townsend. Words could never describe how thankful I am for you and all you do in making my dreams a reality. For being my champion and my rock in the ocean that is publishing. To the amazing Sophia Ramos and Kendra Coet—thank you for reading my drafts and providing notes and encouragement, as well as keeping me organized. A heartfelt thank-you to Joanna Volpe and Dani Segelbaum, who were there to guide me when this book went on submission. To Veronica Grijalva and Victoria Hendersen, my subrights team, who have helped my books find the perfect homes overseas. To Kate Sullivan, who read this book in preparation for submission, and who always has the best notes. To the amazing team at New Leaf—I’m so honored to be one of your authors.
To Eileen Rothschild, my inimitable editor. I’m beyond excited to be working with you on this series and am so thankful for how much you love Roman and Iris’s story. Thank you for helping me make this story the best it could be. To the incredible team at Wednesday Books who have been an absolute delight to work with on this duology: Lisa Bonvissuto, Alexis Neuville, Brant Janeway, Meghan Harrington, Melanie Sanders, Lena Shekhter, Michelle McMillian, Kerri Resnick. My eternal gratitude to Olga Grlic for designing the beautiful cover for this story. A huge thank-you to Angus Johnston for copy editing.
To Natasha Bardon and Vicky Leech—I’m so honored this story has found a home at Magpie Books in the UK. Working with y’all and your team is such a dream come true.
To Leo Teti, who has championed my books in the Spanish market. Thank you for helping my stories find their readers overseas, and for inviting me to take part in so many amazing trips.
To Adalyn Grace, Isabel Iba?ez, Shelby Mahurin, Rachel Griffin, Ayana Gray, and Valia Lind, for taking the time out of your busy schedules to read an early copy and provide amazing blurbs. To Adrienne Young and Kristin Dwyer, for encouraging me countless times and for cheering me on when I first told you about this book.
To my local independent bookstores that have been and continue to be integral to the success of my books: Avid Bookshop in Athens, Little Shop of Stories in Decatur, The Story Shop in Monroe, and The Inside Story in Hoschton. Thank you for being light and magic in our communities.