THE SPIRITS OF the dead pooled at my feet as I walked side by side with the Erlking. With each step, another creature joined in behind us, and many more bowed as we passed. The spirits of deceased goblins whispered as they began to rise into the air, to the afterlife, despite having had no proper burial. So many were dead, and this was a mercy only I could give. Some of them glared at the new Erlking, while some looked on with pride. Their eyes never left me nor the torc of antlers around my neck.
The spirit of a small goblin girl stood out, trailing by my side. Her hair was darker than raven’s wings and her golden eyes gleamed with happiness. She held the hand of a man who shared her looks, and he gazed down at her with the gentle fondness a parent has for their child. He said something and the girl laughed a birdlike laugh, her eyes resting on me with a wordless thank-you, before accompanying her father as they disappeared into the air.
From far and wide the surviving goblins were coming close to greet their new king and the stag who matched him step for step. But they could wait, as Soren stopped on a spot near the border. On one side there was a yew tree, and on the other, a skeleton birch, the branches of both rising high into the sky until they entangled as one.
“This is the place,” Soren said, his eyes flickering warily at the crowd around me. “I never thought being the Erlking would require feeling so self-conscious,” he said to himself. Most of his tunic was ash, fluttering away in the wind. What remained of his bearskin pants left little to the imagination.
“Hush,” I said. “You’ve no right to talk about being self-conscious. I’m the one who everyone was expecting to have four legs.”
Soren snorted but said nothing.
I bent down on the border, on the spot where I was born, taking out the eight little seeds I’d been given. I knew what they were now as I scooped holes into the earth and one by one placed the ash seeds into the dirt. Standing on the human side of the border, I could almost imagine them. The shimmering, smiling spirits of my sisters, the gentle, warm gaze of my mother, and my father with a look both stern and approving on his face.
One day I would see them again and remember the old life I’d lived, hunting with the men, playing games with my sisters, and the gentle lullabies my mother sang by the fireside. But until then, I would plant their seeds on the border of the worlds and watch as the leaves touched the sky and their trunks entwined. They would be struck by lightning and battered by storms; their leaves would die and their branches would break. The earth would shift beneath them, but they would stand through it all. Their roots would sink deep into the earth, just as mine had.
Epilogue
THE SERPENT
IN A PLACE-BUT-NOT-A-PLACE, in a world-but-not-a-world, in the-beginning-but-not-the-beginning, a serpent lay tightly coiled around a massive ash tree, his tail clenched firmly in his fangs. As he slumbered, from far above and far below a redness seeped down from one of the many realms, where a human stag stood beside a goblin king. The redness fell onto the serpent and sank through his skin, and as it did, the beast began to stir.
Slowly, as if he hadn’t moved his muscles in countless millennia, the serpent began to writhe around the tree as if sensing a disturbance to his slumber. He looked toward the surface-that-was-not-the-surface, his eyes narrowed in a predatory glare, until his massive jaws opened, and he consumed his tail no more.
And so began the beginning of the end.
Acknowledgments
There are millions of things that go into creating a book and about a million more things that can happen along the way. Undoubtedly, I will forget some name or other. Even if you are not named here, if you know me—whether by the name Pandean or Kara—let yourself feel a bit of warmth while reading these acknowledgments because you no doubt touched me in some way, shape, or form, and that deserves its own recognition.
First, I wouldn’t be here without Alessandra from Wattpad HQ, who was not only the reason White Stag was featured but also my original champion, pushing the rest of the wonderful people at HQ to read my book. Thank you for believing in my work.
To Ashleigh, who worked so hard to show the world how wonderful White Stag is and sang its praises to get it the deal it deserved. You’re a wonderful person and a great friend, and deciding to work with you and Wattpad was the best choice I ever made.
To Caitlin, my talent manager, who answered many eleven p.m. Slack questions, calmed three a.m. anxiety, and worked diligently to make sure I knew exactly what I needed to during the process. Thank you for putting up with my neuroticism; hopefully it’s one of the reasons I’m a good writer. Thank you for your support of me and White Stag. You seriously rock.
To Aron, who fanboyed about White Stag with me and who still hasn’t read the synopses of the remaining books in the series because the night is dark and full of spoilers. You’re the man, and you really rock those scarves.
Thanks to Eileen, Tiffany, and Christa for helping construct the best novel White Stag could be. Your insights and edits have truly made this book stand out, and I appreciate it more than you know. Thank you for your belief in White Stag and Soren and Janneke as you read, edited, formatted, and tackled my terrible grammar and typos.
Obviously, without Wednesday Books and Macmillan in general I wouldn’t be here. Thank you guys for deciding to take me and my story on!
Of course, I have to thank not only the wonderful Wattpad for having discovered me and my stories, but also the hundreds of thousands of readers who found my writing and loved it enough to make wonderful comments, fanart, and fanfiction about the story and my characters. Thank you for believing in Janneke and Soren and being hooked on their journey from start to finish. You guys are the reason I am here in the first place, and your love is the reason White Stag went from the internet to bookstores. Thank you for every comment, vote, read, private message, and email.
Thanks to the community of QueryTracker Forums, especially Sarah Ahiers, for critique partnering White Stag back when it was a baby rough draft; Samantha Joyce, for being my cheerleader, close friend, and confidante; and Mary Lindsey, for helping me during my rough spots, writing and otherwise. All of you are not only wonderful women but wonderful authors yourselves, and I’m happy to know you.
@Xenoclea of Wattpad, you were my Original Fan and have spent more than one night awake with me talking over the phone about writing, Soren, Janneke, Seppo, and the entire Permafrost world. Your endless enthusiasm and love have really helped me through a lot, and I’m so grateful to have you, not only as a fan but also as a friend. You are a very special, wonderful person.
I have a lot of demons, which is why I’m lucky to have Krys and Robin in my life to help me out. Both of you have brought so many positive changes to my life, and I hope to continue moving forward. Thank you for helping me when I was in the darkest places of my life.
Last but not least, thank you to my family:
Dad, RIP. I hope you’re watching me from heaven and are proud of the woman I turned out to be. I love you and I miss you and I hope that when the time comes and I’ve lived and grown old, we will be reunited in the afterlife. I wear your bandanas almost every day.
Mom, thank you for your support over the years. I know I wasn’t the easiest child (nor was I the easiest teenager or young adult), but you did the best you could and I really appreciate that. I love you so much. Thank you for supporting my dream.
Without you, Elaina, my twin, I definitely would not have become a writer in the first place. Thanks to the glorious war of sibling rivalry and your interest in writing, I also started writing. If I hadn’t been super jealous of you as a kid, I wouldn’t be getting published, and I love that now we can joke about it. You’re a cool sister, and hopefully one day you’ll get your own penguin.
Ross, you’re not just my close friend, you are like a brother to me, which means you are also my family. Thank you for supporting me, for our talks about writing, and for saving my life in the spring of ’17. You mean so much to me, and I hope the next
Dresden Files book comes out soon so we can freak out over it. Until then, we’ll just have to keep obsessing over Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Chris, you are also part of this family, even if you haven’t been for very long. You’re cool and you make not only my mom happy, but also my sister and me, and that means a lot. I’m glad you and Nora are in our lives.
Finally, thanks to Daisy, Nora, Kimba, Kanu, Coconut, and Halle, my wonderful animals who brighten my life. Especially Kanu, my buddy who curled up on my lap at two in the morning while I was writing and who runs to me whenever he hears my voice. You’re the best cat anyone could ever have, and I love you so much.
About the Author
KARA BARBIERI is a writer living in the tiny town of Hayward, Wisconsin. An avid fantasy fan, she began writing White Stag at age eighteen and posting it to Wattpad soon after under the name Pandean. When she’s not writing, you can find her marathoning Buffy the Vampire Slayer, reviving gothic fashion, and jamming to synthpop. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Author’s Note
Epigraph
Part One: The Captive
1. Masquerade
2. Predators
3. A Heart Freshly Broken
4. Beginnings
5. Hunting
6. Hard Truths
7. Birth
8. Rapprochement
Part Two: The Huntress
9. Panic
10. Monsters
11. To Feel
12. Dragon Killers
13. Dearest Wish
14. Needless/Wantless
15. Lydian’s Gambit
16. Mother of Wolves
Part Three: The Stag
17. Growth
18. Burnt Lands
19. Salt of the Earth
20. Iron Fire
21. The Witching Hour
22. White Stag
Epilogue: The Serpent
Acknowledgments
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.
WHITE STAG. Copyright © 2018 by Kara Barbieri. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.wednesdaybooks.com
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Olga Grlic
Cover illustration by Larry Rostant
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-14958-9 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-22619-8 (international, sold outside the U.S., subject to rights availability)
ISBN 978-1-250-14959-6 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250149596
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First U.S. Edition: January 2019
First International Edition: January 2019
White Stag Page 29