Sky in the Deep
Page 24
We built our home on the far south side of the village, overlooking the water on a plot of land where a home once stood. The black outline still stained the earth where it had burned to the ground. I remembered them. An old man named Evander and his son. But they were gone now, their souls in Sólbjǫrg with Evander’s wife who’d died years ago.
Mýra took my place at home with my father. In a way, she’d always belonged there. He stood back, watching us work. The wound on his leg from battle was slowly healing, but he leaned his weight into a cane that he would likely have for the rest of his days. It didn’t scare me like it would have before the winter because there was no fighting season coming. Not ever again.
Almost every Herja that had come to the valley was slaughtered in Hylli. The few that weren’t were hunted down. We hung their bones from the trees up on the cliffs, but I still dreamed of them in the forest. I dreamed of them in the sea. If there were any left, whatever god they served had pulled them back into the shadows.
I sat out on the bluff that night as the sun went down, my bare feet swinging against the wind that pulled the scent of salt and fish up from the water. The image of bodies floating flashed in my mind, but I pushed it away. I closed my eyes to remember the old Hylli. A small Aska village nestled on the fjord that was home to Sigr’s people and sent them out when the fighting season came.
And that was the way of it. Things belonging where they didn’t. Like two night skies on a frozen lake. One looking down from above and one looking up from the deep. I turned my hand over, tracing the scar that ran down the center of my palm. It was the promise the Tala had made to me and it was a promise she kept.
The door opened and I felt Fiske’s warmth against my back as he sat down behind me, his legs falling to either side of mine and his arms winding around my middle. He pulled me to him in the dimming light and tucked his face into my neck, breathing me in.
We watched Halvard running on the beach below, shouting and throwing stones with the other children.
Aska children.
“It will be different,” Fiske said. “It will be different for him.”
Halvard wouldn’t grow up training for the fighting season. He wouldn’t grow up hating the Aska. Now, he lived among them. He would be strong for different reasons than we were.
I could still see a young Eelyn standing on the beach turned into the wind, a sword in one hand and an axe in the other. I hadn’t lost her. I hadn’t buried her. I’d only let her change into something new. I’d envied Iri my whole life for his open heart, and now mine had been pried open too.
I was the same. But I was different.
I closed my eyes again, laying my head back to rest on Fiske’s shoulder, and wove my fingers into his. Where the people we had once been and the people we were fit together.
Where we were both.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you will never be enough. They are feeble, ill-equipped words to hold what’s in my heart.
To Joel, my constant—my North Star and seer of my truest self. Never once have you brought water to my flames. Thank you for refusing to let me give up and never letting my dreams take the back seat. Thank you for telling me again and again that I am good enough. If anyone else is responsible for what’s in these pages, it’s you. I love you.
To my children, the little flames of imagination that burn beneath my watch and inspire me every day.
To my family, made of iron and stone. My father, who gave me the tenacity and stubbornness to fight for what I wanted with every drop of blood in my veins. I wish so badly I could see your face as you look down at my book in your hands. But I know you’re watching. My mother, who taught me what strength and steadiness are. My sister, who got every kind and gentle bone missing from my body. My brothers, two of the best characters ever written, and Rhiannon, who chose us.
To Barbara Poelle, who plucked me from the cold queries and slayed dragons for me. All words fall to the ground when I think of what you have done for me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. From the depths of my soul, thank you.
To Eileen Rothschild, my editor, who fought like a warrior for this book. Thank you for breathing fire. You and everyone at Wednesday Books have made my dream come true. You’ve cast a window for the world to see my heart.
To Meghan Dickerson, Kristin Watson, and Lizzie Provost, who have always accepted me as I am. You taught me what it was to be true to myself and you let me grow. I’ve always wanted to be like you when I grow up. I still do.
To Amy Sandvos, Angela Porras, and Andrea Torres, the refuge I run to again and again. Thank you for loving me.
To the ever-expanding Sandvos clan and my dear friends Bill and Ida Settlage, Rich and Melissa Lester, and Clay and Emily Butler. Your support means the world to me.
To Stephanie VanTassel, the first friend who ever looked me straight in the eye without blinking and told me my stories would be published. Stephanie Brubaker and Lyndsay Wilkin, flotation devices on the brutal sea of creation. And Candy Chand, who accepted an invitation to lunch from a girl who knew nothing about this industry. Natalie Faria, thank you for reading the first version of this adventure and letting these characters break your heart.
To the author community who opened their arms to a stranger, especially Renée Ahdieh. Many cliffs I could have leapt from, without your guidance and advice.
To my local author gang, who welcomed me as an equal when my uncertainty was at its absolute highest—Stephanie Garber, Shannon Dittemore, Rose Cooper, Kim Culbertson, Jenny Lundquist, and Joanna Rowland. Most of all, Jessica Taylor, who saved me in more ways than I can count. Thank you for generously giving me your time and energy and, most of all, for telling me to email Barbara.
To Stephanie and Tiffany Nordberg, who kept faithful watch over my little ones while I built a world and characters to lay them brick by brick onto these pages.
To the teachers who saw what was inside me before I ever did. The ones who weren’t afraid of my rough edges, cutting through to the heart of me. You changed my life. You held a torch on a dark path for me to follow. Mrs. Zweig, my third grade teacher and the very first person to ever tell me I was a writer. Abbie Jacobson, who taught me that there are no rules in storytelling. Jay Garrett, who treated me as an intellectual and drew out my mind.
There are so many more friends and family who have cheered me on, and I’m forever grateful to you.
To Kristin Dwyer: here’s your line break. You believed in that bright, twinkling dream I had hanging in the sky. With a head shake and a sigh, you granted me twenty-four hours for Eelyn and Fiske, and in those twenty-four hours, the sparks that lit their wildfire were struck. I can’t wait for my line break in the back of your book. I hope it includes an apology for leaving me behind in Harry Potter World.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ADRIENNE YOUNG is a born-and-bred Texan turned California girl. She is a foodie with a deep love of history and travel and a shameless addiction to coffee. When she’s not writing, you can find her on her yoga mat, scouring antique fairs for old books, sipping wine over long dinners, or disappearing into her favorite art museums. She lives with her documentary-filmmaker husband and their four little wildlings beneath the West Coast sun. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
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.
SKY IN THE DEEP. Copyright © 2018 by Adrienne Young. 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 Kerri Resnick
Cover photo illustration by Larry Rostant/Bernstein & Andriulli
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-16845-0 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-29393-0 (signed edition)
ISBN 978-1-250-16847-4 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250168474
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First Edition: April 2018