Soulstar
Page 33
“Are you all going back to the Solace?”
“Tristan is going to stay,” Aife said. “Miles was willing to come to the Solace, but Tristan doesn’t think he’d be satisfied, leaving Aeland when it needs healing the most. If you need us, Tristan will be able to make the journey to Elondel and ask for aid.”
My middle loosened. Miles was staying. I could still try to convince him to chair the Health and Hygiene Committee, we would still eat together, and Tristan—clever, charming Tristan—was going to stay too.
“Thank you for coming,” I said. “And thank you for the trust you’re demonstrating by leaving. Come back whenever you wish.”
“I’m taking the dead with me,” Aife said. “I sealed off the Solace to punish Aeland, but I also did it because the territory around the Tiandran Marches is so unstable. We’re going to be close by for the next while, putting things right.”
I bit my lip. “They deserve rest. But they were helping us with a problem I don’t know how to solve—the storms that plague Aeland that have grown too powerful for our Windweavers to fight.”
“I know,” Aife said. “But please trust me when I tell you that bringing the dead to the Solace will help soothe the troubled winds that blow on your shores. Their absence is what made the storms worse. Their return should ease your trouble.”
I nodded. “When are you taking them?”
“Now,” Aife said. “Would you like to help?”
I nodded. “Please.”
She led me through the corridors to the plain field where the King’s Stone stood, and I beheld the gathering of the Amaranthines and their fine horses—which weren’t horses at all, I had heard. Aife accepted the bridle of a fine chestnut steed, and the beast bowed its head in deference to her. She mounted, and they moved together toward the stone.
Aife dropped the reins and raised her arms, and the air shimmered like a curtain and twinkled open, revealing blinding, golden light.
The sun rose on the plains of the Solace, its light spilling out to throw long, deep shadows on the stone. I glimpsed long lines carved across its face. They sharpened for an instant, and then wore back down, smoothed by ages of wind and rain, the monolith simply stone once more.
Lights shone in the air, tiny sparks that glowed gold and scarlet, violet and green. They floated into the light of the Solace’s sunrise and passed through—a handful, then a scattering, then a flood. Tiny and starlike, they came from every direction, streaming through the air as they flocked to the gateway.
Ghosts drew closer, unable to resist the pull of the land across the Way, and as they stepped from Aeland to the Solace, their substances firmed, became less transparent. They gathered on the other side, watching more souls, more ghosts pass through.
“Joy,” I said. “Mahalia.”
They hovered beside me, the light of the Solace shining on them.
“You have helped me so much,” I said. “But it’s time for you to go.”
“No,” Joy said. “You still need me.”
“Aunt Joy. I do. But look at it. Don’t you want to feel it? Don’t you want to go on to peace?”
“We can rest,” Mahalia said, but Joy planted her feet in the snow.
“It will still be there when I’m ready,” Joy said. “But Aeland is just getting interesting. My sister’s baby is going to run a country, and I want to see what happens.”
My heart warmed even as my throat choked up with tears. “If you want to stay.”
“I want to,” Joy said. “Go on, Mahalia. I know you want to rest.”
They held each other for a long moment; then Mahalia touched her ghostly lips to my forehead. “You’ll do just fine, Miss Robin. Just fine.”
We watched her pass through, joining the people bathed in light.
“There’s one more thing,” I said.
I raised my hand to hover just at my forehead. I felt carefully, learning the edges of the soulstar as I pulled, gently, and drew Jacob’s soul out of the tangle that bound it to mine.
Jacob Clarke stood before me, a younger man than the one I had known, handsome and dapper in the tall collar and tailed jacket of his youth. He smiled as bright as the sunshine and touched his fingers to his lips.
“Well done, Robin. You did everything I dreamed of, and more.”
Hearing it made my throat swell, but I smiled and kept back the tears. “What do you want me to tell Winnie and Duke?”
“That we’ll meet again. I’ll be waiting,” Jacob said. “I’ll stay right where they can find me.”
He covered his heart with his hand, bowed to me, and walked into the Solace, whistling a merry song.
I watched until they all passed through, and the Amaranthines crossed over with their wagons and their mounts. Aife and Ysonde waited until last, closing the portal behind them.
No more crowns. No more Guardians. It was only us now, and we had to make our own choices. We had to bring light and healing to Aeland again. I watched the last sparkling lights of the Way fade from sight, and then Joy and I turned back into the palace to get to work.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing the Kingston Cycle would not have been possible without the assistance of many people. I would like to thank my agent, Caitlin McDonald, who helped me every time I had a problem or question with her expertise, support, and encouragement. To Carl Engle-Laird, my editor, who in understanding of what I was trying to do in writing this book helped with countless observations and suggestions as I was putting the book together. My copy editor, Deanna Hoak, for taking the time to make sure that I was clear and accurate in my story and prose. Thank you, Will Staehle, for the amazing cover that captured the feeling of the story.
My production team turned out a fantastic-looking book and made the whole process go so smoothly I never had to worry about anything. Thank you so much to Megan Kiddoo, Soulstar’s production editor; Steven Bucsok, production manager; designer Nicola Ferguson; and team members Jim Kapp and Lauren Hougen.
Sometimes you need to turn to an expert. I thank Scott Lynch for taking the time to explain what it was like to be inside a burning building, and about the conditions that cause backdraft, and about the tightrope dance of being able to use magic in a way that could help someone breathe—but could also burn them alive. The mistakes I made were all me and not him.
Similarly I need to thank Arkady Martine, who helped me figure out a major part of this story’s plot when I was puzzling over what to do next. Her suggestion was directly responsible for Robin jumping up on that box when the election was decided.
Does a book ever get written without the feedback of a great group of story-savvy people who just get you? I wouldn’t dream of trying it solo. Dr. Amanda Townsend is always there for everything—character analysis, plot speculations, wild tangents, all of it. Kate Brauning lent me her time and knowledge to help me write deeper character conflict. John Appel spent an afternoon looking over my second half of the story in a plot-breaking session that was as satisfying as knocking over dominoes. Kimberly Bell talked to me about unconventional romance stories, where the story isn’t as simple as one person meeting another. Krista Heath did a lot of reading and gave honest opinions—and she got me back on track more than once.
Finally I need to thank Elizabeth Bear, who patiently, lovingly, and consistently gave advice on how to conclude a trilogy, how to keep writing, and how not to freak out (too much) while trying to write an end to the story that was my life for years.
ALSO BY C. L. POLK
THE KINGSTON CYCLE
Witchmark
Stormsong
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
C. L. POLK (she/her/they/them) is the author of the World Fantasy Award–winning novel Witchmark, the first novel of the Kingston Cycle. After leaving high school early, she has worked as a film extra, sold vegetables on the street, and identified exotic insect species for a vast collection of lepidoptera before settling down to write silver fork fantasy novels. Ms. Polk lives near the Bow River in Calgar
y, Alberta, in a tiny apartment with too many books and a yarn stash that could last a decade. She rides a green bicycle with a basket on the front. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
One: A Favor for a Favor
Two: The Greystars
Three: Clarity House
Four: Kingston
Five: Everyone at Once
Six: Coronation
Seven: The Princess Mary Hotel
Eight: Louder than Thunder
Nine: The Interview Room
Ten: Free Democracy
Eleven: Clan Cage
Twelve: Rules and Regulations
Thirteen: At the King’s Pleasure
Fourteen: The End of a Judge
Fifteen: Election Day
Sixteen: Yellow Ribbons
Seventeen: The Tyranny of Paper
Eighteen: The First Day in Session
Nineteen: A Step Ahead of the Rest
Twenty: Too Many Alibis
Twenty-One: The War Measures Act
Twenty-Two: A Nice Brick House with Beautiful Light
Twenty-Three: Atone or Surrender
Twenty-Four: One Last Blow
Twenty-Five: The Last King of Aeland
Twenty-Six: The Light of the Solace
Acknowledgments
Also by C. L. Polk
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
SOULSTAR
Copyright © 2021 by Chelsea Polk
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Will Staehle
Edited by Carl Engle-Laird
A Tordotcom Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
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New York, NY 10271
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Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-20357-1 (trade paperback)
ISBN 978-1-250-20356-4 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250203564
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First Edition: 2021