Give the Dark My Love

by Beth Revis

  And something snapped.

  My vision rushed back to me, blinding light forcing me to blink rapidly as I stepped back. Light filled the palm of my shadow hand, dripping threads of gold leaking between my impossible fingers.

  Wellebourne’s crucible was empty. Without the souls holding it together, it cracked in two, the pieces falling to the floor.

  Governor Adelaide wailed.

  Ernesta and Master Ostrum stopped fighting. Master Ostrum turned, looking to me, his eyes hollow.

  I plucked out the golden thread of light that was his soul, and I let it go. His body crumpled.

  Free.

  “No.” Governor Adelaide’s voice was low pitched and sorrowful.

  Thuds echoed from the corridor as I let all the souls go. The guards’ bodies fell, empty, to the ground.

  “It’s over,” Grey breathed, relief flooding his voice.

  “No,” I said, looking at Governor Adelaide. “It isn’t.”

  “You destroyed my crucible,” she snarled at me.

  “But not the plague.” I could release the souls, I could break the iron. But the curse still existed.

  Governor Adelaide’s eyes grew wide with horror. She tried to run away.

  But she did not have her crucible to protect her anymore. And I had mine.

  Power vibrated through me. I had never taken the soul from the body of someone living before.

  I was shocked at how easily—how naturally—it came to me. My shadow hand pulled at the strings of golden light radiating around Governor Adelaide, and her soul squirmed, trying to wriggle free. I clenched my incorporeal hand.

  Governor Adelaide’s body froze. Her pulse thrummed violently in her neck, and her eyes darted wildly, but there was no other movement.

  “Kill the necromancer,” I said, bending down to pick up the sword Master Ostrum had carried. “Kill the necromancy.”

  SIXTY-NINE

  Grey

  Nedra struggled to raise the sword with one hand. I didn’t know how she forced Governor Adelaide to be so still as she pressed the tip of the blade against the governor’s chest.

  “Ned?” I whispered.

  “The plague still exists,” Nedra said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I cannot stop it any other way.”

  I knew the rules. Nedra had been able to free the undead Governor Adelaide controlled, but she could not stop the plague.

  Not while the governor was alive.

  But I didn’t want to see my Nedra become a murderer. I crossed the room and reached for her. Her hair had come undone from its braids. It was paper-white, but still soft and supple.

  Her shoulders trembled with the effort to hold the sword steady at the governor’s chest.

  “There has to be some other way—” I started.

  Before I finished the sentence, Nedra drove the sword into the governor’s heart. The light left her eyes. Her mouth grew slack, a rivulet of blood leaking from one corner. The governor’s knees crumpled, and her body fell forward, sliding along the blade of the sword until her chest slammed against the hilt.

  SEVENTY

  Nedra

  The plague was gone. The crucible was broken. The necromancer was dead.

  “It’s over,” Grey said.

  I looked down at the body of the governor.

  Grey pulled me into a hug. He pressed my head into his shoulder, and all I could do was thank Oryous that we had both survived. But slowly, the rest of the world bled into our circle, like the blood staining the iron floor. Governor Adelaide’s eyes were still open, watching us. Ernesta stared straight ahead, emotionless. The Emperor woke up, whimpering and covering his face to hide from the gore.

  Grey let me go. His hands were sticky with the blood from my back, but he didn’t seem to care. The cut was deep, but nowhere near deep enough to cause more damage than a scar.

  “It’s all over,” Grey said again. His eyes drifted to my crucible.

  I clutched it, staring at him.

  “You destroyed Wellebourne’s,” he said. “You can destroy this one, too.”

  I closed my eyes. I could sense my revenants throughout the castle. They had fought for me. Some had families to go back to at the quarantine hospital.

  I opened my eyes. But rather than look to Grey, I met Ernesta’s blank gaze.

  Letting go of my revenants meant letting go of Nessie.

  I clutched my crucible in my hand—my hand made of flesh and bone. Unbidden, my father’s voice filled my mind.

  I want to keep you with me always, he had told me as we journeyed to the bay and my new life. But I know I have to let you go.

  It wasn’t just my sister. There was something of my parents within my crucible, too. I could feel them, faint but there.

  “End it,” Grey urged me. “You know it’s not natural to be a necromancer. You know that these . . .” He glanced at Nessie. “They’re not normal. Let them go back to their graves. Let them be at peace.”

  I moved away from him and headed to the door. Grey tried to pull me back, but Ernesta snaked between us, giving me space as I descended the narrow staircase. I stepped over the corpses of the Emperor’s Guard, my feet smearing their blood, thick and dark, on the stone floor.

  My revenants joined me, falling into line as I led the macabre parade through the deserted castle. Cold night air sliced through the open doorway leading to the city.

  “Nedra,” Grey called from behind me. I could hear the fear in his voice.

  He pushed his way through the revenants to me. “Ned, please,” he whispered. “Don’t do this. Let them go.”

  I stopped but did not face him. “No,” I said, my voice strong and loud, puncturing the silence. I cast one last look at him, then turned away. “They’re mine.”

  My army of dead swarmed me as I descended into the night.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Books are strange things.

  The earliest seeds of this novel started after watching an interview with Charlize Theron on her portrayal of Ravenna in Snow White and the Huntsman and was influenced through many years of watching and reading Hiromu Arakawa’s Fullmetal Alchemist. Later, a revolutionary subplot emerged thanks to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton. All art is a reflection of art loved.

  This story evolved over the course of many years, shifting in focus and theme, influenced not just by the arts I loved, but the people I knew and the experiences I held. In the end, less than a page of text from the original manuscript has made it into this final book.

  Huge thanks first to author Carrie Ryan, who, over a lunch of pad thai, suggested that I tell more of the background of Grey and Nedra’s relationship. Suddenly what had been Chapter One shifted to Chapter Fifty-Nine. If you cried over Nedra’s fate, please also direct your blame to Carrie, who said I couldn’t tell Nedra’s grief; I had to show it. If you’re ever in Shelby, North Carolina, go to Joe’s Place and LilyBean’s Coffee House—books get rewritten there.

  As you can surmise, this book went through many drafts, and at times I worried I’d never find the right way to tell this story I loved so much. My love to Lauren DeStefano, who encouraged me to keep writing “neccy,” and Cristin Terrill, who helped me figure out the correct color of turnips. Shout-out to the Wordsmiths, who are all so supportive, but especially Jo Farrow, who let me turn her into a mule.

  Angel Giuffria and Kati Gardner helped me make the character of Nedra ring true. They also provided me with a level of insight that I could not have otherwise brought to her. Any mistakes that remain are purely my own. I want to thank them both for their time and helpful notes.

  The gorgeous map of the Allyrian Empire was drawn by artist and author Cat Scully, who gets as excited about beautiful skulls as I do, and who tackled this huge art project with so much enthusiasm that I knew it was in good hands.

  I would not have the care
er I have without my agent, Merrilee Heifetz, who helped me quite literally make my dreams come true. Her notes on my early draft did require me to rewrite almost everything (again), but without doing that, I could not have found the right story. Thanks also to everyone at Writers House who guided me along the way, including, but not limited to, Allie Levick (who was the first person to notice North Brother Island, the inspiration behind Nedra’s quarantine hospital), Rebecca Eskildsen (who helped me refine the map in a brilliant way), as well as Cecilia de la Campa and James Munro, who ensure my books travel all around the world.

  Of course, I want to send special thanks to my editor, Marissa Grossman. This was a beast of a book, with more story than could fit between one set of covers, and editing it was surely no easy task. Her probing questions helped make this story shine and the world more real. Thanks also to Alex Sanchez for pushing me when I wasn’t clear enough, and Samantha Hoback, Krista Ahlberg, and Ashley Yee for copyedits. Bridget Hartzler is wonderful and savvy, and I’m so lucky to work with her. My gratitude to Ben Schrank and the rest of the Razorbill team, all of whom are dedicated to making beautiful books.

  When I wrote the first draft of this book, I had been thinking of how grief changes a person. I didn’t expect to experience that change in the middle of developing the story. This is the last of my books that my father read before he passed away unexpectedly. Nedra’s grief became my own. This book is dedicated to him, a gift he never saw. I will never not miss my Poppa.

  My love to my mother and my husband and my son, who share my grief and joy.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Beth Revis is the author of the New York Times bestselling Across the Universe series, the twisty contemporary novel A World Without You, and the New York Times bestselling Star Wars: Rebel Rising. Beth lives in rural North Carolina in a house full of boys--her husband, son, and two massive dogs--and she forces them all to watch reruns of Firefly and Doctor Who. Visit her at bethrevis.com and follow her @bethrevis.

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