Istvhan began laughing. “Well, there were a few things going on. Would you like to try again?”
“Can we?”
“Domina,” he said, his voice serious but his eyes dancing, “I am quite hopelessly in love with you.”
“Oh good,” she said. “I’m in love with you, too. Very much so.”
He kissed her then, and she kissed back, and eventually Doc Mason thumped on the roof to yell that they had better not be canoodling in his wagon, but neither of them minded at all.
Acknowledgments
It seems like I’ve written a great deal of these notes by now, and they get longer every time. That’s life for you, I suppose. People keep helping and you keep wanting to acknowledge how much they meant to you.
So! In no particular order: my fabulous editor K.B. Spangler, whose margin notes are a balm to the writer’s soul; my buddy Shepherd, who threatens and encourages me in more or less equal measure, and also comes up with horrible marketing schemes involving livestock; my fantastic copyeditors, Jes and Cassie; my long-suffering agent Helen who sells all the additional rights and whatnot; the delightful crew at the Drunk In Space Slack, who provide much needed social interaction in the plague times; and my buddy Sigrid, who allowed me to kill her heroically in a book. (This is how authors show love.)
Gigantic, were-bear-sized thanks as well to all my readers on Twitter, who cheer so enthusiastically for the books and rush to preorder them, which helps a lot. And to all the patient souls on Patreon, without which, I would frequently have been in sufficiently precarious straits that I would have had to go get a Real Job and no one wants that.
Also, while perhaps it is odd to thank a publisher in one’s self-published book, to the lovely people at Tor who are also fans of the series and eagerly helped me figure out how to carve out space for the Saint of Steel books around their publishing schedule for some other books. Not everybody supports their hybrid authors like that, and I’m grateful.
And finally, of course, my husband Kevin, who will be sitting around, innocently minding his own business, and suddenly have an incomplete manuscript thrust on him while his wife, wild-eyed, screams, “Tell me this does not shame my ancestors!” I could probably do it without him, but it would be much harder and more miserable and not nearly as much fun.
About the Author
T. Kingfisher is the vaguely absurd pen-name of Ursula Vernon, an author from North Carolina. In another life, she writes children's books and weird comics. She has been nominated for the World Fantasy and the Eisner, and has won the Hugo, Sequoyah, Nebula, Alfie, WSFA, Coyotl and Ursa Major awards, as well as a half-dozen Junior Library Guild selections.
This is the name she uses when writing things for grown-ups. Her work includes horror, epic fantasy, fairy-tale retellings and odd little stories about elves and goblins.
When she is not writing, she is probably out in the garden, trying to make eye contact with butterflies.
Also by T. Kingfisher
As T. Kingfisher
A Wizard’s Guide To Defensive Baking
Paladin’s Grace
Swordheart
Clockwork Boys
The Wonder Engine
Minor Mage
Nine Goblins
Toad Words & Other Stories
The Seventh Bride
The Raven & The Reindeer
Bryony & Roses
Jackalope Wives & Other Stories
Summer in Orcus
Horror Novels:
The Twisted Ones
The Hollow Places
As Ursula Vernon
From Sofawolf Press:
Black Dogs Duology
House of Diamond
Mountain of Iron
Digger
It Made Sense At The Time
For kids:
Dragonbreath Series
Hamster Princess Series
Castle Hangnail
Paladin's Strength Page 43
