Malice, page 37
But for once, that staff doesn’t make me wince. He can’t hurt me anymore.
The Etherian snarls. The magic in his staff crackles. He draws it back, lips moving in words I can’t hear.
I close the distance between us in a single wingbeat and give in to the beastly instinct coursing through my blood.
Endlewild’s eyes widen at my charge, as round as the golden plates at the king’s dinner. Within their reflection, I glimpse my own. Wild-haired and ravenous. Claws stained with blood. Tail poised to strike. The Fae lord throws his arm forward. An arc of his Fae power erupts from the orb like a shower of stars. It slams into my shields and sizzles away.
And then there is only the sound of flesh tearing and the splatter of gold among the glass on the war-room floor. The staff falls from Endlewild’s grasp and cartwheels end-over-end toward Briar. The Fae lord’s blood is smeared over my face. It tastes like the fizzy wine from Aurora’s parties. I want more of it.
Deep within my soul, Mortania laughs.
Callow beside me, I return to the decimated roof of the library. The smell of woodsmoke engulfs me as I bid my trees stretch their limbs, steeling this place against the fire chewing its way through the palace. Command more thorns to grow. Strengthen. Keep Aurora safe. I can almost feel her heart beating with mine, as it was always meant to be.
Briar burns below me, nothing but emerald ash and plumes of smoke. A wisp of guilt coils around my heart when I think of Hilde. Of the innocents in the Common District, their lives upended through no fault of their own. But I wouldn’t change anything.
It turns out Kal was right. Sacrifices must be made.
Screams roll in from the harbor, miniature boats pulling out to sea. One of them is Elias’s, I think, his navy and bronze flags retreating toward the horizon. But I don’t bother to chase him down. Let him go. There’s nothing for the star-chosen prince here.
I know what they will say of me, those who escape to the realms beyond the sea. The Vila who cursed the lovely princess. Trapped her in a tower, never to wake. Razed Briar to the ground for spite.
Malyce. I laugh. Rose knew me all along.
But that is not your name any longer.
Mortania. Her presence brushes against the inside of my skin, a missing piece clicking into place. Her face in the cursed mirror surfaces in my mind like a wave breaking, green eyes ablaze and pointed teeth gleaming. And suddenly I understand. That connection I felt from the start. I was afraid of it. But I should have embraced it. Our fates have always been entwined.
And with her power inside me, the Dark Grace is dead. Alyce burned to dust.
And what shall we call you, pet?
All the names I’ve ever heard spin through my mind. Those meant to degrade and chain me. Callow ruffles her wings. No one will ever utter them again.
Yes. A new name. For a new age in Briar. Exactly as Aurora wanted. We will be like Leythana claiming Briar for her own when no one believed she could. Like the first Vila and her mate, establishing Malterre after the Etherians cast them out.
Who was that Vila, I wonder? She was never named in the books I read.
Mortania’s voice slinks through my mind in answer, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. It’s like a veil being lifted. A path illuminated after years of wandering. My lips sound out the syllables, sweeter than Etherian blood.
I lift into the air. Pump my wings higher. Shift in my lungs so that the entire realm can hear. A name for a dark creature like me. Dangerous and cruel. Hard-hearted and unyielding. A nightmare come to life. It roars around us, rattling the stones of the crippled palace. Gusting across the waves, so that even the realms beyond the sea will know:
NIMARA.
For Lindsey, who believed when I didn’t. If any kiss can break a curse, it’s yours.
And for Ashley, my very first partner in villainy.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Not so long ago, this book—and others like it—would not have found its place on a shelf. LGBTQ representation has been sorely lacking in our history, as have stories in which female main characters are allowed to be anything but beautiful and good and in need of saving (usually by men). Alyce is neither beautiful nor entirely good. And I think, at some point in our lives, we can all relate to her feelings of helplessness and rage. Feelings that, when unmitigated, can lead to dire actions.
Our world, like Alyce’s, is a lonely place when we feel there is no one like us. And so I wrote this book with the goal that readers would see something of themselves in its pages. That I could create complexity in the black-and-white trope of “good versus evil.” And imagine a well-known villainous character as someone, well—like us.
But I could not have succeeded in my endeavor without the help of many people along the way. First and foremost, thank you to every LGBTQ author who has come before me. Malice would still be a computer file lost in a folder if not for the trailblazers who made their voices heard first. I am indebted to every one of you, and hope I can contribute to continuing the practice of inclusivity in publishing.
Incredibly loud thanks and raucous praise are due to my agent, Laura Crockett, and the entire team at Triada US. Laura found me in her slush pile, pitching a completely different book, and saw something worth picking up. She has been a patient ear, whip-smart editor, and unfailing champion throughout this process. Laura, I am honored to have you on this journey with me.
Thank you to my brilliant editor, Tricia Narwani. I knew from our first phone call that she was the perfect match for Alyce and her story, and I have since been utterly amazed at the care and passion that she and her entire team have poured into this book. Thank you to every person at Del Rey and Penguin Random House who has touched this book and made it better. Every thought and second given to my imaginary world and the characters within it. As I said, only years ago, Malice would have struggled to find a home. Tricia and Del Rey not only gave it that home, but celebrated the diversity of the book. That means more than I’ll ever be able to express.
Of course, I would never have reached this point in my life without the support of my friends and family. Thank you to every person who listened to me blather on about publishing and who asked how things were going. Every teacher—and you know who you are—who read my early work and helped shape me as a writer. Mrs. Ro, you always knew I’d get here. And Coach, I really wish you were around to see it. My agent siblings, especially Tasha and Chloe, who listened and celebrated and otherwise helped me navigate these uncharted waters. My nonwriter friends who cheered me on. Thank you to my brothers, who were as excited about this process as I was. And my parents, who weren’t surprised at all (well, you were) when I told them I was being published.
Thank you to my best friend, Ashley. We’ve been wreaking havoc since high school, and she never once doubted where I’d end up. Most of all, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to Lindsey. She’s been there through every tear and triumph. Every giddy dance when good news came. Every grumble of frustration when things weren’t going well. I can’t imagine anyone else by my side, and I am beyond lucky that our paths crossed ten years ago.
If you’re an aspiring author reading this, know that I was once you. I flipped to the end of every book, searching for some magical crumb of a secret about how to get my work published. Despite the fact that you’re reading this, I never found that crumb. Magic, unfortunately, rarely exists outside the boundaries of a page in quite the way we’d like it to. But persistence, patience, and an unwavering work ethic do exist. If I have any secret to my bit of success, those are undoubtedly mixed in. Keep writing. Keep rewriting. Keep reading. Keep trying. I can’t promise you an end date. But I know that every piece—and every draft of every piece—makes me a better writer.
Lastly, thank you to every librarian, blogger, fellow writer, and absolutely anyone who has helped this book to find readers. Readers, this book is only ink and pages without you. I hope you found something of yourself in Alyce’s story, or that it was at least enjoyable. If not—good thing there are more books!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Heather Walter is a native Southerner who hates the heat. A graduate of the University of Texas at Austin, she is both a former English teacher and a current librarian. Perhaps it is because she’s surrounded by stories that she began writing them. At any given moment, you can find her plotting. This is her first novel.
heatherrwalter.com
Twitter: @heatherrwalter5
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Heather Walter, Malice
