by V. E. Schwab
The demon only smiled. “But who will stop me now?”
IX
Lila paced the orchard.
She had to do something.
The courtyard was brimming with guards, the palace in a frenzy. Tieren was trying to coax answers from Hastra, and several rows away, Alucard was still curled over Rhy, murmuring something too soft for her to hear. It sounded like a soothing whisper. Or a prayer. She had heard men praying at sea, not to God, but to the world, to magic, to anything that might be listening. A higher power, a different name. Lila hadn’t believed in God for a very long time—she’d given up praying when it was clear that no one would answer—and while she was willing to admit that magic existed, it didn’t seem to listen, or at least, it didn’t seem to care. Lila took a strange pleasure in that, because it meant the power was her own.
God wasn’t going to help Rhy.
But Lila could.
She marched back through the orchard.
“Where are you going?” demanded Alucard, looking up from the prince.
“To fix this,” she said. And with that she took off, sprinting through the courtyard doors. She didn’t stop, not for the attendants or the guards who tried to bar her way. She ducked and spun, surging past them and through the palace doors and down the steps.
Lila knew what she had to do, though she had no idea if it would work. It was madness to try, but she didn’t have a choice. That wasn’t true. The old Lila would have pointed out that she always had a choice, and that she’d live a hell of a lot longer if she chose herself.
But when it came to Kell, there was a debt. A bond. Different from the one that bound him and Rhy, but just as solid.
Hold on, she thought.
Lila pressed through the crowded streets and away from the festivities. In her mind she tried to draw a map of White London, what little she’d seen of it, but she couldn’t remember much besides the castle, and Kell’s warning to never cross over exactly where you wanted to be.
When she finally found herself alone, she pulled the shard of Astrid Dane from her back pocket. Then she rolled up her sleeve and withdrew her knife.
This is madness, she thought. Sheer and utter madness.
She knew the difference between elemental and Antari. Yes, she had survived before, but she had been with Kell, under the protection of his magic. And now she was alone.
What am I? she’d asked Tieren.
What am I? she’d wondered every night at sea, every day since she’d first found herself here in this city, in this world.
Now Lila swallowed and drew the knife’s blade across her forearm. It bit into flesh, and a thin ribbon of red rose and spilled over. She smeared the wall with her blood and clutched the shard of stone.
Whatever I am, she thought, pressing her hand to the wall, let it be enough.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Here we are again. The end of another book. I’m always surprised to have made it this far. It might have taken you days, or weeks, or even months to read A Gathering of Shadows, but it took me years to write, edit, and see this book to publication. That duration renders this moment surreal. Even harder is remembering who to thank.
To my mother and father, for telling me I could be whatever I wanted, whether that was a designer, an interrogator, or a fantasy author.
To my editor, Miriam, for being a killer editor, a stalwart champion, and an ace GIF user. And for being a friend and companion on this particularly wondrous adventure.
To my agent, Holly, for proving time and again that you are magic.
To my former publicist, Leah, and my new publicist, Alexis, and to Patty Garcia, for keeping me afloat.
To art director Irene Gallo and cover designer Will Staehle, for making things look so fierce.
To my beta reader, Patricia, for sticking with me through thick and thin and strange and dark.
To my Nashville crew, especially Courtney and Carla, Ruta, Paige, Lauren, Sarah, Ashley, Sharon, David, and so, so many more, for being the warmest community in all the land.
To my wee Scottish flatmate, Rachel, for being an utter delight, and not making fun of me when I talked to myself or vanished for long stretches into the deadline pit.
To my new housemate, Jenna, because you have no idea what you’re in for.
To my readers, who are, without question, the best readers in the entire world (sorry everyone else’s readers).
To everyone else: So many of you have stood at my side, championed my work, cheered on good days and been present on bad, and taken this journey with me stride for stride. I can never thank you all, but please know that if you’re reading this, you matter. You’ve made an impact on my life and my series, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful.
(I also want to point out that I made it nine books without invoking the dreaded cliffhanger.)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Victoria Schwab is the author of A Darker Shade of Magic, described as “a classic work of fantasy” by bestselling author Deborah Harkness. It was one of Waterstones’ Best Fantasy Books of 2015, The Guardian’s Best Science Fiction novels, a Telegraph choice for the Best Young Adult Books of 2015, and Book of the Week for We Love This Book.
She is also the author of Vicious, which was a Publishers Weekly Best Book of 2013, an Amazon Best Book of the Year (as well as Best Book of the month when it debuted in September), a semi-finalist in the Goodreads Choice 2013 Book Awards, and the ALA top pick for Fantasy for their 2014 reading list.
Titan Books will publish her next novel, This Savage Song, in June 2016.
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