by Natasha Ngan
Wren’s gaze meets his. “I’m afraid it is.” She pulls me forward. “But our main goal has been achieved, and we have Lei to thank for that.”
The leopard-boy looks at me, his eyes wide. “The King is dead?”
I take a shaky inhale before replying, the answer still unimaginable even to me, with his blood smeared all over my skin.
“Yes.”
The first flakes of snow are beginning to fall as I step out under the temple’s eaves. The moss-trimmed lake spreads before me, dark and glossy in the starless night. I set the lantern down and take a seat on the wide stone stairs, clutching the fur cloak the leopard-girl, Willow, lent me. The temple looks like it’s been abandoned for centuries. Weeds and wildflowers grow in thick sprouts from cracks in the rock. Birds have made their nests in the minarets and peaked rooftop. A great banyan tree towers from one of the temple’s walls, roots as large as the rooms it has grown through, its vines dangling in netted curtains and littering the ground with leaves the size of Merrin’s hands.
I pull my necklace over my head and sharply inhale at the fresh pain it flares in my shoulders. The gold shell of my pendant is still unbroken, perfectly seamless. Carefully, I cup it in my palm, looking for a way in, when its casing cracks neatly open in two. And, years after it was made, its secret is finally offered to me.
For a moment, I stare in silence. Then a laugh escapes my lips. Tears blur my vision. Because the word that floats inside, a single character in brushstrokes of softest black, is so perfect it’s a wonder I never guessed it.
Flight.
I look a moment longer. Then I snap the pendant shut and run back into the temple, shouting Wren’s name over and over, half laughing, half crying, heart bursting with the awe and sun-bright surety of it. Because that is what Wren is to me—my wings. And with her love, she’s taught me how to use my own. To fight against what oppresses me. To lift and launch and soar into the air, just as we did tonight, just as we will have to do every day if we are to make the kingdom safe, just as we will continue doing for the rest of our lives, flying, dancing through the brilliant skies, reaching new heights together, always together.
A war might be coming.
But we have the wings to fight it.
IN THE FLAME AND SHADOW OF the burning night garden, the white fox crouches beside her King. The motionless form of the wolf is sprawled on the bloody earth behind her.
She doesn’t care about him. She doesn’t care that the two keeda girls have escaped. Let them run. Let them believe they have won.
She knows better.
Careful to avoid his wounds, she touches her hand to the King’s wrist—and feels it. A pulse. Faint, but unmistakable.
He lives.
The fox caresses her King’s face. “I knew a mere human girl couldn’t kill you,” she whispers. Then she stands and calls for one of the waiting soldiers to fetch a shaman.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
THE STORY WITHIN THESE PAGES IS a work of fiction, but also a work of love. The world of Ikhara has been heavily inspired by growing up in Malaysia, a country with a dense mix of cultures, and also by my identity as a person of mixed ethnicity. As such, it’s a bit of a hybrid—like me. I feel extremely lucky to come from a multicultural home. It has shaped my influences and perspectives—and will forever continue to do so.
The conception of Girls of Paper and Fire also comes from a personal, deep yearning for more diverse novels, particularly in YA. I believe it’s important for everyone, but especially young people, to see themselves in the stories they consume—to feel acceptance and kinship. To be inspired for their own stories, real and imagined. Even magical worlds have their roots in our own. I would love to see more books reflecting the rich variety of our individual realities.
The story of the Paper Girls is one that is, sadly, representative of many women’s experiences. My own included. While I realize these are hard discussions, especially for teens, it is of vital importance we have them. Books can be safe places to explore difficult topics. While we cannot shelter young people from being exposed to sexual violence, whether through lived experience or indirectly, we can give them a way to safely engage with and reflect upon these issues. I hope Girls provides such a space.
For any readers who have experienced sexual assault: I am so, so sorry for what you have been through. My wish is that, like me, you were able to find some form of kinship and empowerment in Lei’s journey. Despite the darkness of the story, there are many positive messages that I wanted to convey to readers going through their own traumas: supportive relationships and friendships. The ability to find hope even in the hardest times. The power of female strength. The knowledge that you can go through horrible things and not just survive, but live.
This is a story close to my heart. I hope you enjoyed it.
If you are the victim of sexual, emotional, or physical abuse, please consider speaking to a trusted adult, or contacting one of the following resources if you need to seek help anonymously.
RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network)
Call: 1-800-656-HOPE
Chat: online.rainn.org
Info: rainn.org
Love Is Respect—National Dating Abuse Hotline for Teens
Call: 1-866-331-9474
Info and chat: LoveIsRespect.org
Text: LoveIs to 22522
National Domestic Violence/Abuse Hotline
Call: 1-800-799-SAFE
Info and chat: thehotline.org
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THIS BOOK AND I HAVE BEEN through a lot. If I do the math, it’s something like three relationships, five homes (across two countries), one change of agent, one change of career, eleven rounds of editing, two disastrous haircuts, what must be fifty million cups of tea, and countless emotional crises, quite a few of which the book itself caused. But despite our difficult journey together—or perhaps, because of it—Girls has become a sort of friend to me. Seeing it now so beautifully made up and having its own life out in the world independent of me is a proud, proud moment.
I owe a hundred thank yous to everyone who helped get us to this point:
To my yoga teacher, Matt Gluck, whose class I was in when the first line of Girls came to me and led me into the story. Also for inspiring me to set out on my own yoga teaching career! My classes have become the perfect antidote to lonely writing days.
To author friends who read early versions of Girls and gave much-needed feedback and encouragement: Kendra Leighton, Katy Moran, Emma Pass, Kerry Drewery, Sangu Mandanna, and Lana Popovic. Your enthusiasm for Girls kept me going. Thank you also to Brian Geffen for early notes that helped shape the world of Ikhara into what it is now.
To the Mad Hatters—Sarwat Chadda, James Noble, Alex Bell, Louie Stowell, Jane Hardstaff, Rohan Gavin, and Ali Starr—for celebrating the highs and commiserating about the lows with me, and providing the best kind of response to both: cocktails and laughter. Our London nights are some of my favorites. Sarwat, thank you especially for your early insight and never-ending encouragement.
James, you are my rock. Thank you for always believing in me and knowing how to pick me up. I’m endlessly grateful to have you in my life.
To Taylor Haggerty, for being Girls’ tireless champion and always being ready with insight and positivity whenever I’m lacking in either. When I was querying this time around, a friend told me to choose the agent I feel like I could write the best books under, and so that’s what I did. I look forward to many more books together. And to Holly Root, thank you for playing matchmaker!
To my amazing Jimmy team—Jenny Bak, Sasha Henriques, Sabrina Benun, Erinn McGrath, Julie Guacci, Aubrey Poole, James Patterson—for taking a chance on Girls and working so hard to make that chance count. Jenny, you’re a dream to work with. Thank you for your patience, understanding, impeccable editorial insight, endless bounds of enthusiasm, and always knowing the right thing to do for our book. You made Girls into what it is today. I feel like the luckiest author in
the world to call you my editor.
To so many of my amazing friends who have spent hours listening to me talk about imaginary worlds—Alex, Peter, Claudia, Tom North and Tom Latimer, Luke, Amber, Polly, Rich Galbraith and Rich Lyus, and to many more I haven’t named—I blame sequel brain. Thank you so much for your support and inspiration throughout this process.
To my parents, for being the perfect blend of crazy and caring. Dad: I have no doubt that I wouldn’t have become a writer were it not for your bedtime stories and quiet, unwavering support. Mum: you brought me up to be both knowledgeable and proud of my Chinese-Malaysian heritage. This book is a testimony to that.
To Callum, for championing me always, anywhere, and through anything. You still know me better than anyone. You also frustrate me more than anyone, but I love you even so.
To Fab, for giving me a new home and a life filled with so much happiness I can hardly stop smiling. You’ve made writing a lot more difficult because of that, but I forgive you. It’s worth it a million times over.
Pour la vie.
Finally, to everyone who picks up a copy of Girls—it means a lot to me that you’ve given your time to this little book. It’s not perfect, but I did my best to write it with sensitivity, passion, honesty, and care, and I hope you can feel that through the words. Thank you for reading.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NATASHA NGAN is a writer and yoga teacher. She grew up between Malaysia, where the Chinese side of her family is from, and the UK. This multicultural upbringing continues to influence her writing, and she is passionate about bringing diverse stories to teens. Natasha studied geography at the University of Cambridge before working as a social media consultant and fashion blogger. She recently moved to Paris, where she likes to imagine she drifts stylishly from brasserie to brasserie, notepad in one hand, wineglass in the other. In reality, she spends most of her time getting lost on the metro and confusing locals with her French.
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