by Sara Holland
He’s been getting steadily better since the Solarian door closed. Still, he looks strange. There is a frantic color buzzing in his cheeks, and his eyes are unnaturally bright and yet slow to focus on me.
But I push the doubts down to make room for the utter joy, dizzying joy and relief that I have my uncle back. Whatever comes next, fighting the Silver Prince, putting Havenfall back together—we will figure it out. I’m not alone anymore.
“Hey there,” he says, his voice smoker-gravelly from lack of use.
I plop down on the side of his bed, looking up at Graylin to make sure I’m not dreaming. He nods at me with a strange, strained smile, but maybe I’m not seeing clearly because my eyes are filling with happy tears. I blink them away and turn back to Marcus.
His hand reaches out and touches my chin, his expression uncertain. “Sylvia?”
“I—” What he’s said takes a second to sink in.
Sylvia. Mom’s name.
“No, I—I’m Maddie.”
The song in my heart hiccups, but I try not to let it show on my face. He’s been out for a week. It’s probably normal to be a bit confused.
“What year is it?” I ask jokingly.
Marcus’s brow creases. “Why, it must be …”
Worry spikes in my heart. “Never mind.” I grab his hand and hold it between both of mine. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” he says, holding my gaze. “But warm. Too warm.”
I notice for the first time that it’s freezing in here. The window AC unit is cranked way up. But Marcus is sitting on top of the covers, wearing a T-shirt and jeans, his face flushed like he’s in the tropics.
I slide off the bed and go over to the AC unit, but it’s already turned up to the max. Just standing near it makes goose bumps rise up and down my arms. I mess around with the dials for a second, trying to compose myself, when Graylin comes over.
“He’s been like this for half an hour,” Graylin says quietly. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t think how to tell you.”
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask, my voice coming out croaky.
Two hours ago, after the fight with the Prince and Taya vanishing and before Willow came to tell me that Marcus was awake, I felt empty, numb, my feelings quota for the day wiped out. But I guess there’s always room in my heart for more fear.
“I don’t know, exactly,” Graylin says, each word soft and careful. “But Willow has a theory.”
“I’m listening.”
Graylin takes a deep breath. “The silver-magic I used changed him.”
Guilt and panic stab through me. I was the one who told Graylin to use the enchanted objects.
“Changed him how?”
It takes Graylin a moment to answer. “I think they’ve made him not entirely human.”
For a moment, my mind is utterly blank.
That’s not possible, I want to say.
But after everything that’s happened in the last few days, nothing really seems impossible anymore.
There are so many things I need to ask Marcus. But now isn’t the time, not when Graylin just got his husband back and the delegates in the dining hall are all waiting to hear from their Innkeeper. So I settle for just one question. “Did you know Nate was a Solarian?”
Marcus blinks again, but not like before—his eyes go distant and I can tell he’s remembering. “I did,” he says quietly.
“And he didn’t die. Traders took him.” It spills out before I can stop it. Okay, more than one question.
He flinches, nods, and more guilt floods in. That was the worst night of Marcus’s life too—he effectively lost his sister and his adopted nephew and, I’m realizing just now, watched all his efforts to help one Solarian child burn to the ground.
But I put my hope down for so many years, and now it’s roared back with a vengeance. “If he’s alive, I’ll find him.”
“If he’s in this world,” Marcus says. He closes his eyes and presses the heels of his hands into them. Graylin comes over to drop a kiss on the top of his head.
I have more questions, but I swallow them. Before I can learn the whole truth about Nate—Nahteran—and Mom and the Solarians and the silver trade, I need to get through today. With the Prince gone and the immediate threat with him, I can take time to piece my life, piece Havenfall, back together.
Even if it’ll never be the same.
Back in the dining hall, I nibble halfheartedly at a slice of pizza as Graylin taps his fingers nervously beside me. He’s not totally sold on what I’m about to do. I can tell. But we need to find out the truth about the silver objects and the bound magic.
We need to find Taya and figure out what happened to Nate. And how to fix Marcus.
It all comes back to the same place. The same world. The same door.
Another omphalos.
I keep trying out words and phrases in my head, looking for the right combination that will ease everyone’s fears and bring back the authority and trust in me that the Silver Prince usurped. But my thoughts are scattered and slip quickly away. Images keep butting in, driving out organized thought: Brekken kneeling in his cell, trying to keep the light alive; the Silver Prince, coming toward me with rain and hail swirling at his fingertips; Marcus awake, delirious, asking for cold; Taya silhouetted in the Solarian doorway, broken and fierce and brave.
What would she tell me now?
I feel a smile creep onto my face, because I know the answer right away. Just do it. Don’t think too much. You’ve got this. I hope she—or at least the version of her in my head—is right.
No one’s been talking much, just a scant murmur of conversation across the tables, but even that quiets when I push my chair back and stand up. The half-empty hall feels hollow, and I’m momentarily seized by a childish urge to yell out just to hear the echo.
“Good evening,” I say.
Project, as Marcus would say, I remind myself. “Thank you for being here.”
A few scattered nods, but mostly just stares.
“Some of you have heard that I was attacked earlier today inside Havenfall,” I say haltingly. “And that the attacker fled. I’m sorry to have to tell you, officially, that the attacker was the Silver Prince of Byrn.”
They know this. I know they know. Yet somehow the silence seems to plummet even deeper when the words escape my lips. Like no one in the room is even breathing.
“There was a Solarian on the grounds of the inn—who returned to Solaria and closed the door to Haven—but she did not kill Bram or attack the staff member,” I go on, willing my voice not to shake, even though I couldn’t keep it steady even when I was just practicing in front of the mirror alone in my bedroom. “That, too, was the Prince.”
A few people around the room gasp.
“He blamed everything on the Solarian,” I say, my voice gaining strength as my anger reignites inside me. “He wanted to incite chaos so that he could assume control of Havenfall. It was the Solarian who saved us and forced the Prince to flee back to Byrn. I don’t know if he’ll return or try again. But I want to say … I want to say that I know things have been frightening lately, and I haven’t always made the right choices as Innkeeper. But we’re safe now, and I want to remind you that the principles Havenfall is built on—neutrality, nonviolence, cooperation—they still stand.”
I take a deep breath. Listen to the sound of my own heart. “If the Silver Prince does return, he will be considered an enemy. But I don’t want to make an enemy of Byrn or this delegation. If any of you want to return, now, you’re free to go. But I hope you’ll stay. Stay and help me rebuild the trust between the worlds.”
More murmurs. People exchange glances or look down at their plates. My senses seem fuzzy, the sound of the room staticky in my ears, faces blurry. But maybe that’s a good thing. If everyone looked skeptical, I don’t know if I could go on.
“We will be scrapping the Accords and crafting a new treaty starting at noon tomorrow, in the observatory. Anyone who wishes to ha
ve a voice in writing it is welcome to attend.”
Muttering, louder than before, erupts. Someone gets up from the Byrnisian table and walks from the hall. The door closing seems ten times louder than normal. My heart skips a beat, but I force myself not to react. To hold steady.
“Our goal,” I call, “is to build a new alliance that incorporates people from all the Adjacent Realms, anyone whose goal is peace. Including Haven. Including Fiordenkill. Including Byrn. And including Solaria. The war with them is long over, and the survivors have been blamed for others’ violence. Our quarrel with them is over, and now is the time to work on healing.”
As soon as I sit back down, dizzy with nervousness and exhaustion, the room erupts into chatter. It washes over me, less a collection of distinct words than a tide of feeling: anger, confusion, relief, hope.
There are so many voices at Havenfall, so many different directions this delicate balance could tip. The Silver Prince told me I wasn’t strong enough for this. That the inn would decay into chaos in my keeping. And maybe he’s right.
But I know, too, that I’m not giving up, not walking away. As long as I’m the Innkeeper, official or not, I’ll be whatever Havenfall needs me to be. I will become strong enough. Whatever it takes to make this place safe again, home again.
Home to anyone who needs it, with its doors open wide.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are so many people without whom Havenfall would not exist. Thank you to my wonderful editorial team of Cindy Loh, Hali Baumstein, and Claire Stetzer; publicity/marketing forces of nature Erica Barmash, Faye Bi, Beth Eller, Phoebe Dyer, and Courtney Griffin; fantastic production editor Diane Aronson and proofreader Katharine Wiencke (thank you for putting up with my inability to keep a timeline or outfit straight!); and to everyone else at Bloomsbury who’s had a hand in bringing this book to life. Thank you, too, to all the publishers abroad who had faith in me and Havenfall, especially Rebecca McNally, Mattea Barnes, and everyone at Bloomsbury UK; and Leo Teti and the whole Puck team. And many, many thanks to Sarah Baldwin, John Candell, Donna Mark, and Peter Strain for an absolutely gorgeous cover!
Thank you to everyone on the Glasstown Entertainment team past and present—especially the always-wise Lexa Hillyer, publicity badass Emily Berge, and editor extraordinaire Deeba Zargapur; you all have made me a better author and I appreciate you! And thank you to everyone in my extended support system, especially Stephen Barbara, Lyndsey Blessing, and Pete Knapp. I couldn’t do it without you!
I’m so grateful for my friends and colleagues navigating these writing and publishing trenches with me, including (but not limited to) the Curtis Brown crew, Celine Aenlle-Rocha, Liz Trout, Ronnie Alvarado, Mark Oshiro, Arvin Ahmadi, Dhonielle Clayton, Zoraida Cordova, Laura Sebastian, and Patrice Caldwell. And special shout-out to Alexa Wejko; I still remember the phone conversation with you when the scattered seeds of ideas about mountains and magical hotels started to fall together into an actual story.
Thank you always and forever to my family, who are my best cheerleaders and my strongest support. You’re the best!
BLOOMSBURY YA
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP, UK
BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY YA and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
First published in the USA in 2020 by Bloomsbury YA
First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Copyright © Glasstown Entertainment, 2020
Glasstown Entertainment has asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: HB: 978-1-5266-2286-0; PB: 978-1-5266-1488-9; eBook: 978-1-5266-1486-5
To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters
