Valiant

by Sarah McGuire

“Yes?”

  “Ye—” He kissed me before I could finish the word. Kissed me as if he’d been waiting as long as I had, maybe longer. He was as insistent as the wind on the castle walls, as fierce as the melody of a giant’s song. He kissed me until the ground danced beneath my feet and I stumbled. Galen just pulled me closer and murmured, “Hylag!”

  I looked up. Hylag continued to stomp, beating the ground a few more times. Galen shook his head. Then a small earthquake reached us.

  Hylag looked at us over his shoulder. “Volar is happy.”

  Galen laughed, then sat down against a tree and tugged me down to his side, wincing only a little. “Just in case there’s more stomping.”

  I was tucked close to him, my head resting on his chest. “I could hardly see straight after the draught they’d given me. But the moment you closed the door, I got out of bed,” Galen said.

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  He grinned. “You were listening?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It was an awful night when you didn’t come.”

  “I went to Eldin. Stumbled in the door—the doctors were happy about that, of course. I told him that if he wanted me to stay in Reggen, he’d better act like a proper king and arrange things. It was horrible to just wait for news. I wanted to go to you a thousand times.”

  “And then Lissa set everything right,” I whispered.

  Galen pressed a kiss into my hair, and I rubbed my cheek against his coat. Velvet.

  Please, I thought, let him be a good man, whoever they choose.

  “Eldin wants to make me ambassador,” Galen said.

  “Really?” I craned my head to look at him. “To one of the other River Cities?”

  He shook his head, a smile pulling the corners of his mouth. I kissed the corner nearest me, just because I could.

  Galen’s smile widened, and he kissed me back, not on the corner of my mouth.

  “I’m to be ambassador to the uten. We could go to Belmor in the spring. Would you like that?”

  I thought of the halls under the mountains, the great ships that sailed the sea. “You did say that you see better with me.”

  He chuckled. “It only makes sense that the champion of Reggen should be the first to visit the high king in his hall.”

  “I’m not the champion.”

  “The tailor, then?” I heard the smile in his voice.

  “Just Saville,” I whispered.

  My second day in the castle, Princess Lissa told the king she didn’t want to marry the duke. She said she didn’t want giants to dance at her wedding.

  Neither of us could have known that they would dance at mine.

  The day I married Galen, giants danced until the ground shook and the willows by the Kriva swayed. Only a dance that wild and strong could match our joy. In a week, they would take Galen and me back to Belmor. We would greet the high king, and he would call me Hillock the way he always had. We would walk the halls beneath the mountains, hear the truth in stone, and see stars over rough seas. Will, who walked with only a slight limp, would come with us.

  Reggen still sings the songs about the champion, the brave tailor—though I can’t help laughing to hear such words describe me. I was not so brave, and there were other champions that summer morning. Perhaps, time will wear away our names until we are as blurry as the Guardians and no one can remember where we came from. But for those who wish to know, this is everything that happened.

  This is the story that is true.

  Acknowledgments

  Everyone in these pages deserves thank-you books, and all I have are sentences. But just because I can’t thank everyone properly doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try. So, thank you to …

  My rock-star agent, Tracey Adams. What a fierce advocate and comfort you’ve been!

  All the wonderful people at Egmont Publishing, who made me and Valiant look better than I ever could have on my own.

  My editor, Alison Weiss. Thank you for answering all my questions, and asking the perfect ones in return. Your insights and encouragement made Valiant the story I always hoped it would be.

  My amazing Slushbuster critique group—Stephanie, Michelle, Joan, Alison, Lisa, and Bridget. You ladies raised me as a writer these past nine years. The Turbo Monkeys crit group—Amy, Kristen, Hazel, Julie, Marilyn, Ellen, and Craig. Your feedback and support meant so much. And where would I be without my LYLP ladies, who listened to my silliness and walked me through the long days of writing and selling a novel?

  The 2010–11 Nevada SCBWI Mentor Program, run by Ellen Hopkins and Suzanne Williams and hosted by the wonderful Nevada writing community. Harold Underdown, who chose me as one of his mentees! I took everything I learned about mushy middles and used it in Valiant. Thank you.

  Patti Gauch, for teaching me how important it is to go far enough, and how I must always listen for my story’s heartbeat. The people at Highlights, whose support and scholarships made my Patti workshops possible.

  Thank you to all the agents and editors and authors at all the writing conferences who spent time with the tall, horribly nervous attendee. Thank you, bloggers (I’m looking at you, Janet Reid!), who made the industry less intimidating.

  The WAHS teachers and administrators, who have been so ridiculously encouraging. And my students! (All of you—even the ones who think I’m not talking about them.) You make me laugh and work and think like no other job would. I’m lucky to be your teacher.

  My dear ones in Brezik, thank you for your hospitality and strong coffee and never minding how badly I spoke Bosnian! I missed those afternoons swimming in the Krivaja so much that I had to put a river in Valiant.

  My family, blood and otherwise. My characters get their best qualities and their funniest moments from you. Thank you for letting me ramble about people who (technically) never existed, for proofreading my manuscripts, and for never once doubting I could do this. I love you.

  And in all this, there is God, who has swept me up into an amazing love, a timeless story.