Misrule, page 38
The council opened Briar’s borders as soon as the realm was stable. Governorships were established in the outer provinces, formerly the Fae courts. Their merchants cross the sea to sell Fae-made sails that can never tear and seeds that never fail to bloom. Not weapons, though—nothing that might be used to start another fruitless war.
“But what about—” The Vila plucks at her jacket.
“You’ll be safe,” I say before another of her countless doubts resurfaces. Chaos—who has been snuffling for nonexistent plants to eat among the jagged rocks—snorts in what can only be affirmation.
But I understand the Vila’s concern. Early on, there was talk in the mortal realms of laying siege to Briar. I’d heard the babble from under the hood of my cloak while passing through cities and towns. Realms that, despite their poverty, yearned to lay claim to the magic threading Briar. But then word trickled in of how Aurora’s power ruptured the mountains. How all the creatures of magical blood banded together. Rumors of invasion ceased after that.
Callow repositions herself and warbles a warning.
“There!” One of the Vila points.
A shape soars closer, a falcon. But as it descends in front of us, its wings morph into arms, talons into legs, and its fierce eyes and beak into a face I’ve come to know very well indeed.
“Neve.” I fish an apple out of my bag and hand it to her.
As promised, the Shifter initiated our communication within a year after I left Briar. She and her network of Starlings are now primarily responsible for providing refugees with a swift journey across the sea.
“How are things at court?” I ask.
She wipes apple juice from her lips. “Well. Torin and the others say hello. And she sends her regards.”
Warmth blooms in my chest, as it always does, no matter how much time has passed. Even so, my memories of Aurora are bittersweet. Derek may not have captured Aurora’s hand, but some did find their way to her heart. I’ve heard plenty of talk of courtiers whom I suspect are closer than friends. It used to bother me, learning that she’d taken a lover. That someone else was so intimately close to her. But, eventually, I came to understand that I didn’t want her to be alone forever. She deserves happiness. And I admit that I haven’t always been alone, either.
“You’re the Shifter?” One of the Vila steps hesitantly forward. She’s too thin, despite the food I’ve shoved at them these last weeks.
“I am.” Neve dips her chin. “An arduous journey lies ahead of us. Let’s waste no time. There’s a camp a few hours from here where we’ll pass the night.” She glances at me. “I expect I’ll hear from you before long?”
“Yes. There are rumors of a pack of Imps wandering south of here. I’ll let you know when they’re ready.”
Neve groans and flings away her apple core. Chaos swishes his tail in interest. “Wonderful. The palace certainly needs more of those deviants.”
I laugh, missing the creatures and their endless supply of pastries and fashion. The years of merchant’s food, dried meats, and Callow’s tribute cannot compare. Perhaps I’ll keep the Imps with me for a time when I find them.
Without further delay, Neve Shifts into a winged beast, broad enough for both Vila to sit on her back. They embrace me, quickly and fiercely, before clambering onto her haunches, and then the trio rises into the air.
I watch the sunset-painted waves of the horizon until the chill of the night bites beneath my cloak and urges me on.
* * *
—
Some weeks later, while I’m in pursuit of the Imps, a branch creaks nearby. Callow chirrups, announcing her return, and flaps to my shoulder. Chaos thumps his back hoof in greeting.
“Well,” I say to the kestrel. “What have you brought me?”
There’s a scroll of parchment tied to her body—a missive from court, addressed to the special ambassador.
I am not the only ambassador on this side of the sea. The council deemed it more appropriate that a human should deal with the mortal rulers, which is fine with me. I have no patience for such relationships. The idea of tailoring my every word and action to suit some pompous monarch is nothing short of nauseating.
Derek was the first to serve as liaison to the humans. I encountered him a few times during my journeys. He became the king of Ryna before long and helped to bring wealth and prosperity back to his realm. And he was honored by the Briar Court when he died in his sleep at the age of ninety-seven. I did not attend, but I heard that he was buried with a locket around his neck, one that contained a curl of burnished-gold hair.
I thumb the gilt edge of the parchment. It’s an invitation.
The Briar Court is pleased to announce the hundredth anniversary of its founding.
Festivities will be held within the month.
All are welcome to share in the realm’s joy.
Another century gone. I can scarcely believe it, the years having drained away like grains of sand in an hourglass. And never once have I returned to Briar. There didn’t seem much point. Neve tells me everything I need to know about court. And I receive letters—news relayed in a looping script that conveys a warm, if formal, tone. It’s always been enough.
But then I turn the parchment over.
Alyce, I can almost hear Aurora’s voice through the ink, come home.
My heart snags. Because I know that she doesn’t mean the palace. Or even the court. She means home. To her.
Could I? No. There’s been too much, and I’m happy with my life.
But then I close my eyes, imagining her scent carried on the breeze. The silken heat of Aurora’s lips against mine on the night the world came crashing down around us. The quaking of the room, and of my very bones. The look in her eyes when she realized.
You broke the curse.
Perhaps, finally, it is time to break another.
For every reader who made space in their hearts for these books. I wrote Alyce for you.
And for Lindsey, always, who taught me that true love isn’t just for fairy tales.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Authors always joke that their second book almost kills them. Reader, it is not a joke. There were many, many times when I worried this book was too much. When I lost my way and my hold on the story and its characters. And I think it’s important for authors to be transparent about that—we don’t always have the perfectly crafted story in our minds. But in the end, Alyce—in her surly fashion—came back to me. This is the book that was waiting to be found. Of course, if you disagree, feel free to imagine your own ending for our Alyce. Stories, after all, vary greatly depending on who’s telling them.
Navigating this book would have been impossible without my incredible U.S. and UK editors, Tricia Narwani and Sam Bradbury. Thank you for your unending patience when it came to reading drafts and the gold mine of advice you offered (even when I went on tangents about hummingbirds). I would not have found the heart of this book without you, and I’m so grateful you pushed me to write the story Alyce deserves.
To my fierce champion of an agent, Laura Crockett. Thank you for talking me off the ledge while I stalked the aisles of that obnoxious store, and never doubting that I could do this. You’re part agent, part therapist, part superfan, and mostly magician. And I am incredibly lucky you plucked me from the slush.
Thank you to all of my friends and family who helped and encouraged me during the writing of this sequel. To my parents and brothers, who were as excited about each step of this process as I was. To every person who bought my book just because they knew me—your support means more than I can say.
Ashley, the Dark Court was born during our high school obsessions with Labyrinth. I wish we could pack up and go there right now. And Bentley. You are such a cool person. I’m so proud of you, and now the whole world knows. I can’t wait to watch you grow. We love you.
Chloe Gong, Tasha Suri, and Kaylynn Flanders, I have so enjoyed our commiserating, celebratory, and often snarky DMs. I’m so excited to read more of your books.
Tom, Kristin, and Liam, the stars that aligned to lead us to your backyard are the luckiest I know. I found my way through this book in that thin place. Kristin, thank you for being the biggest cheerleader ever. Tom, especially, thank you for shining a light I didn’t know I needed. Liam, here it is in print, so it must be true—you can’t see the way yet, but you will do incredible things. And most of all to Fitz. You cannot read, but you are just as great as Callow.
Thank you to the whole team at Del Rey, for prioritizing this duology and my villainous Alyce, and for championing this book with more passion than I could have dreamed. Whether it was gorgeous covers, generous giveaways, or once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, I’ve been a very lucky author to have found my home with you. Thank you also to the team at Barnes & Noble, who have welcomed both me and these books with open arms. Teenage Heather would lose her mind if she knew her favorite place in the world would one day house her books.
Thank you to every librarian, bookseller, and reader who loved this series and pushed it into other people’s hands. Laynie (@thelaynierose) and Sammie (@booksdogsandcoffee), you have made my debut year especially amazing. Readers, I cannot tell you how grateful I am for you. Thank you for ushering me into the world of authorhood with your praise, fan art, videos, and overall squee. I do not quite feel worthy.
And lastly, as always, my biggest thanks to Lindsey. In so many ways, my life was cursed before I knew you. Thank you for lifting it. Thank you for your unending patience, your insistence that I celebrate every moment, your support when I’m angry with imaginary people. I’m writing it here so that you can’t argue back—I am the lucky one.
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.
heatherrwalter.com
Twitter: @heatherrwalter5
Instagram: @heatherrwalter5
TikTok: @heatherrwalter5
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Heather Walter, Misrule
