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.
if you enjoyed
TWO TWISTED CROWNS
look out for
HALF A SOUL
Regency Faerie Tales: Book One
by
Olivia Atwater
It’s difficult to find a husband in Regency England when you’re a young lady with only half a soul.
Ever since she was cursed by a faerie, Theodora Ettings has had no sense of fear or embarrassment—an unfortunate condition that leaves her prone to accidental scandal. Dora hopes to be a quiet, sensible wallflower during the London Season—but when Elias Wilder, the handsome, peculiar, and utterly ill-mannered Lord Sorcier, discovers her condition, she is instead drawn into dangerous faerie affairs.
If her reputation can survive both her curse and her sudden connection with the least liked man in all high society, then she and her family may yet reclaim their normal place in the world. But the longer Dora spends with Elias, the more she begins to suspect that one may indeed fall in love even with only half a soul.
Chapter One
Sir Albus Balfour was nattering on about his family’s horses again.
Now, to be clear, Dora liked horses. She didn’t mind the occasional discussion on the subject of equine family trees. But Sir Albus had the most singular way of draining all normal sustenance from a conversation with his monotonous voice and his insistence on drawing out the first syllable in the word purebred. By Dora’s admittedly distracted count, in fact, Sir Albus had used the word purebred nearly a hundred times since she and Vanessa had first arrived at Lady Walcote’s dratted garden party.
Poor Vanessa. She had finally come out into society at eighteen years old – and already she found herself surrounded by suitors of the worst sort. Her luscious golden hair, her fair, unfreckled complexion and her utterly sweet demeanour had so far attracted every scoundrel, gambler and toothless old man within the county. Surely Dora’s lovely cousin would be equally attractive to far better suitors…but Dora greatly suspected that such men were out in London, if they were to be found anywhere at all.
At nineteen – very nearly pushing twenty! – Dora was on the verge of being considered a spinster, though she had supposedly entered society alongside her cousin. In reality, Dora knew that Vanessa had only put off her own debut for so long in order to keep her company. No one in the family was under any illusions as to Dora’s attractiveness to potential suitors, with her one strange eye and her bizarre demeanour.
“Have you ever wondered what might happen if we bred a horse with a dolphin, Sir Albus?” Dora interrupted distantly.
“I— What?” The older fellow blinked, caught off his stride by the unexpected question. His salt-and-pepper moustache twitched, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened, perplexed. “No, I cannot say that I have, Miss Ettings. The two simply do not mix.” He seemed at a loss that he even had to explain the second part. Sir Albus turned his attention instantly back towards Vanessa. “Now, as I was saying, the mare was purebred, but she wasn’t to be of any use unless we could find an equally impressive stud—”
Vanessa winced imperceptibly at the repetition of the word purebred. Aha. So she had noticed the awful pattern.
Dora interrupted again.
“—but do you think such a union would produce a dolphin’s head and a horse’s end, or do you think it would be the other way around?” she asked Sir Albus in a bemused tone.
Sir Albus shot Dora a venomous look. “Now see here,” he began.
“Oh, what a fun thought!” Vanessa said, with desperate cheer. “You do always come up with the most wonderful games, Dora!” Vanessa looped her arm through Dora’s, squeezing at her elbow a bit more firmly than was necessary, then turned her eyes back towards Sir Albus. “Might we inquire as to your expert opinion, sir?” she asked. “Which would it be, do you think?”
Sir Albus flailed at this, flustered out of his rhythm. He had only one script, Dora observed idly, and absolutely no imagination with which to deviate from it. “I…I could not possibly answer such an absurd question!” he managed. “The very idea! It’s impossible!”
“Oh, but I’m sure that the Lord Sorcier would know,” Dora observed to Vanessa. Her thoughts meandered slowly away from the subject, and on to other matters. “I hear the new court magician is quite talented. He defeated Napoleon’s Lord Sorcier at Vitoria, you know. He does at least three impossible things before breakfast, the way I hear it told. Certainly, he could tell us which end would be which.”