War of the Bastards

by Andrew Shvarts

  I closed my eyes and took it in. When I’d left the West two years ago, fleeing across the border in Lyriana’s caravan, I’d just assumed I’d never come back. I’d mourned its loss like I would the death of a family member, grieved and cried and come to accept it. You’d think being back would be thrilling, like someone you lost coming back to life, but instead it just felt like I was a ghost, haunting the memories of my former self. The halls I’d played in, the rooms I slept in, the tunnels where Jax and I had run and hid and laughed…they were all the same, of course, physically, but their emotional texture was all wrong, the memories of a life I’d long left behind. Being here felt like being in a dream I’d almost forgotten, floating in a haze.

  A peal of childish laughter jerked me out of that thought. I turned to look back down into the courtyard, where three little blond girls were giggling as they chased each other around. My half sisters, my father’s other daughters. Their mother, Lady Yrenwood, had begged me to let them stay, and of course I did, because I’m not some monster. I had to admit, they were growing on me, especially the middle one, Kat, who loved to mouth off at her mom and throw dirt clods at the boys who pissed her off. I smiled a little as I watched them sprint around, weaving circles around the ever-patient knights.

  My knights.

  It had been six months since my coronation, since I’d sworn the ancient vows down in the crypts of the Old Kings and taken on the redwood crown. Six months of traveling the Kingdom, six months of Lords bowing to me, six months of defusing territory disputes and glad-handing ambitious nobles and trying to get my brain to understand economics. Six months of weirdness like sleeping in the royal bedroom and being called “Your Majesty” and seeing young women copying my fashion choices. Six months of being the Young Queen.

  My knights. My castle. My Kingdom.

  Those words still sounded so weird. They always would.

  A horn sounded from the castle gates, and I turned to see the flutter of white wings as dozens of birds swooped in from the forests, streaking in a wave through the slits in the castle’s walls. Trained carrier doves, bringing messages from all over the continent, from the Alliance of the Four Kingdoms. They were slower than Whispers, and less reliable, but hey, they weren’t made of magic, so it’s what we had.

  Would there be one from Lyriana? Hearing from her was the highlight of my month, in part because she was really good at writing letters. She always gave these great detailed updates about what was happening over in Lightspire: how she’d created a program of civil service for all the nobility, how Galen was importing shimmersteel to insulate the Heartstone and block its energy, how Ellarion was seriously dating an Eastern diplomat, how she and Syan had adopted the most adorable kitten.

  I was supposed to visit her in two months, and I was counting down every day.

  I missed her more badly than I could begin to express.

  “Tilla?” a voice called from nearby. The door to the watchtower swung open, and I smiled as Zell leaned out. He still didn’t have a formal title out here, but that’s kind of because he was my everything: my bodyguard, my advisor, my best friend, my love. He looked good, damn good: his hair hung long around his shoulders, and a dark beard framed his face. And there was something else, something in his manner these days. He had a calm air to him, an ease that was so different from the tense, weary way he’d carried himself for the past two years. He looked relaxed. At peace. Happy.

  “How’d you know I’d be here?” I asked.

  “Because I know you,” he said, and stepped forward to wrap an arm around my waist and pull me in close. I leaned back, pressing my face against the side of his neck, soaking into the firmness of his grip, into his touch, his smell. “What’re you thinking about?”

  “Nothing,” I replied. “Everything. I don’t know. What’s on my agenda for today?”

  Zell stifled a laugh. I’d gotten pretty damn good at talking to Lords and I was even starting to wrap my head around taxes, but I still couldn’t manage a daily schedule for the life of me. “Breakfast with the head of the castle guard. Then a meeting with some merchants from the K’olali Isles to discuss trade policy. You promised the treasurer you’d take another economics session with him in the afternoon. And in the evening, a delegation of Lords from the southern swamps should arrive. I believe they’re hoping you’ll offer to pay to repair their castles, which were damaged in last month’s earthquake.”

  “Ugggh,” I groaned. “How’re things with the Zitochi?”

  “Better. They’ve accepted your legitimacy, and are open to a possible thaw of tensions.” Zell had taken point on fixing Western–Zitochi relations, which were looking pretty bad after all the chaos and conflict. If it had just been me, I’m not sure they would’ve even been open to talks, but having Zell, a Zitochi, sitting by my side at the seat of the Kingdom…it opened a lot of doors. “The Conclave for Chief will be held in two months. If Clan Verax wins, I think we’ll be fine. If it goes to Clan Tezza…well…it’ll be more difficult. But I doubt it’ll come to war. Not yet.”

  I sighed deeply. “It never ends, does it?”

  His arm around my waist pulled me in closer, and his lips grazed the side of my neck. “No. But it gets better.”

  A warm morning wind blew over us. I turned around to face him and he leaned down and I leaned up and we kissed, long and deep and glowing. The problems of the future loomed. The specters of the past still stalked us. The wheels of history still spun.

  But I had this moment. A sunrise. A breeze. A beautiful view. A letter from a friend. The laughter of children, the rustling of the trees. The arms of my boy, the warmth of his breath, the glint in his eye, the crease of his smile.

  It never ends.

  But it gets better.

  I could live with that.

  Five years ago, I sat down and started writing a story about a group of royal bastards on the run from their diabolical parents. It’s been a wild journey from there to now, writing the very last words of this trilogy, and it’s one I could never have made without all of the amazing people who supported me along the way.

  As always, thanks to the truly amazing team at Hyperion. Laura Schreiber is, objectively, a god-tier editor, whose insight and guidance helped shape this series every step of the way. Thanks as well to Cassie McGinty and Seale Ballenger for the phenomenal publicity, for great launch events and a truly memorable tour. And thanks to Mary Mudd, Levente Szabo, Sara Liebling, Guy Cunningham, Dan Kaufman, and the rest of Team Bastard. You all made this series possible, and I’m eternally grateful.

  To my agent, Sara Crowe, for her endless support and encouragement. Onwards and upwards!

  To the Casting Time Crew, for keeping me company on all those late nights: Cat Valman, Owen and Adrienne Javellana, Jessica Yang, Chelsa Lauderdale, Sara Swartout, Coral Nardandrea, and Jeffrey Herdman.

  To the writing peers whose invaluable wisdom and guidance helped me, you know, keep it together: Jilly Gagnon, Stephanie Garber, Tamara Ireland Stone, Kelly Loy Gilbert, Randy Ribay, Tara Sim, Traci Chee, Misa Sugiura, Parker Peevyhouse, and Dahlia Adler.

  To the friends, who were always there with a laugh and a beer and a friendly word: Geoffrey Lundie, Sean McKenzie, Brendan Boland, Eric Dean, Max Doty, Kara Loo, Jennifer Young, and so many more.

  Special thanks to Elisa Bandy for an exceptional beta read and some truly insightful feedback.

  To my family for their endless support: Ann and Simon; Yakov, Yulya, Marina and Daniel. So much love.

  To Sarah and Alex, the absolute best.

  And finally, to all my wonderful readers. Thank you so much for taking this journey with me, for showing up to events, for sending love and reviews and support and Zutara gifs. It’s all for you.

  is an author of novels and video games. He has a BA in English literature and Russian from Vassar College. He works for Pixelberry Studios as a designer, making mobile games like High School Story, Choices, and more. Andrew lives in San Jose, California, with his wife, t
oddler, and two kittens. Find him on Twitter@Shvartacus.