The creature bayed through its ulcerous gums. It pressed the beak in the center of its left palm to the Armorican’s heart. He began to waste, dessicate before Branwen’s eyes.
The Shade nodded at Branwen. It was protecting her.
She left the Armorican in the arms of the man-beast and went in search of her king.
From farther out at sea, a great wave headed straight for Monwiku. The wall of water hit what was left of the Armorican fleet. It burst apart, blood and water, like watching a mountain disintegrate. The wave left nothing in its wake.
Dawn glimmered through its mist, black fading to grayish-purple.
Branwen spotted Marc on the terrace above and hastened toward him. An Armorican lunged at her. She flung her right arm at his chest. Black flame made his entire body spasm. Branwen left him where he fell and kept running.
Marc rattled his sword at a kretarv feasting on the eyes of a dead man who wore a yellow tunic. He regarded Branwen warily as she approached.
The Shades were beginning to retreat. Their hideous forms winked in and out of Branwen’s vision as they returned to their ships.
The Armoricans were defeated.
Decimated.
With a final, bloodcurdling shriek, the flock of kretarvs took to the sky, flew out to sea, back to their master. King Marc’s gaze trailed after them.
“Rix,” said Branwen, rasping.
“You … Morgawr told me about the Sea of the Dead. About the monsters that attacked the Dragon Rising. I didn’t…” Marc looked from the bodies that littered his garden, watering the earth with their blood, to Branwen.
“Sister,” he said. “Are you all right?”
Branwen didn’t know the answer to that question.
“My offering was accepted,” she told him.
The king’s garden smoldered. “Whatever you did … I’m grateful.” But he looked haunted.
“Please—please don’t tell the kordweyd,” Branwen said. “Don’t tell … anyone.”
“You have my word. You saved the castle.” Marc took her right hand in his. She tensed. The black flame had evaporated, but the king watched as the vine-like strands of power receded from Branwen’s veins to the center of her palm. The scar had blackened, almost like a tattoo, and it had changed shape.
Peering closely, she recognized the symbol: a letter from the Ivernic language of trees, and fresh horror flooded her. Each letter had two meanings. The first was innocent enough: a fern—a flowerless plant. The second, deeper meaning was the truth.
Slayer. Killer.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” King Marc asked Branwen who failed to contain her shivering. She shook her head.
“You stayed alive,” she said. The king answered with a troubled smile, nodding.
“Rix!” Marc and Branwen glanced above them. It was Ruan. “Rix!”
He was alive. A breath rushed out of her. Thank the Old Ones. But it wasn’t the Old Ones who had saved her lover. It wasn’t the Old Ones who had saved Monwiku.
The King’s Champion sped toward them. There was blood on his cheek.
Revulsion contorted Ruan’s face as his gaze circled the garden and settled on the dead. On the misshapen, unnatural corpses.
When he reached Branwen, he rubbed her arms. “Thank the Horned One you’re alive.” He crushed her into an embrace and she didn’t correct him. Ruan kissed her cheek, her temple, between Branwen’s eyes.
Turning to his king, all relief fled the Champion’s face.
“The queen?” Marc asked. “Is she secure?”
Ruan swallowed. “She’s missing.”
“Missing?” Marc’s eyes bulged.
“Andred and I found Endelyn, but not the queen. I told Andred to stay with his sister while I searched the castle. I’ve looked everywhere.”
“And Tristan?” Marc asked.
“Also … missing.” Ruan’s jaw shifted. He seemed nervous. Angry, and nervous. “I couldn’t find him, either, but…”
“But what?” King Marc demanded. He pulled at his beard.
“I saw no sign of a struggle in the queen’s chamber. Or in Tristan’s.”
“Of course there was a struggle!” Marc shouted.
“Did you check between the walls?” Branwen asked. Ruan nodded. “Maybe—maybe Tristan got her somewhere safe,” she suggested to the king, then to his Champion.
Ruan met her gaze. “Maybe.”
“If Eseult’s been kidnapped, the Armoricans won’t get far without their boats,” Marc told Ruan. “Gather any able-bodied men and find her!”
“Of course, Rix.”
Branwen heard the Dark One’s laugh. It was her own. Hysterical. Furious.
Honest. Slayer.
She sank to her knees. “We’ll find your cousin,” Marc promised, dropping a hand on Branwen’s shoulder. “I swear, we’ll find Eseult—even if I have to go to Armorica myself to get her back.”
Branwen buried her face in her hands. In her heart, her midnight-colored heart, she knew that the True Queen hadn’t been kidnapped. She peered up at Ruan.
He knew it, too.
Tristan and Eseult were gone.
They were gone, and Branwen was left among the ruins of their love. She’d saved the castle, but lost the peace.
The new day glittered like a vicious smile on the sea.
Odai eti ama. There were no more songs in Branwen’s heart.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It’s hard to believe that the second part of Branwen’s story has already come to a close. Thank you so much to all of the readers who have championed Sweet Black Waves this year—it means the world to me. Thank you for the messages and tweets and bookstagrams.
I am incredibly lucky to have worked on this installment with my editor, Nicole Otto, who understood the journey that Branwen needed to take and helped me get it just right. My agent, Sara Crowe, is a Wise Damsel who gives incredibly wise counsel, and I don’t know where I’d be without her.
I will always be grateful to Rhoda Belleza for giving me a home at Imprint, and to Erin Stein for supporting the series so fully. A huge thank-you to Brittany Pearlman, Jo Kirby, and Katie Halata for everything you do to put my books into the hands of readers. Ellen Duda has created another amazing cover that captures the heart and soul of Wild Savage Stars. Thank you to Linda Minton for your close reading and helpful comments.
A shout-out to Liane Worthington, Crystal Patriarche, and Courtney Floegel at BookSparks for your tireless efforts to introduce Branwen to the world—as well as the sage advice. Over here in London, I am deeply grateful to Laura Dodd, Stevie Finegan, and Jamie-Lee Nardone for your support (and wine!), and the entire Super Relaxed Fantasy Club crew.
Wild Savage Stars is a deeply personal book for me and deals with several difficult issues. From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank my early readers for providing important and necessary feedback. Thank you to Kelly deVos, Somaiya Daud, Lucy Hounsom, Rebecca Barrow, Christopher Keelty, Carlie Sorosiak, Amanda Hall, Sara Polsky, and Georgina Cullman. As ever, thank you to Dr. Geraldine Parsons for your help with the Old Irish linguistics.
Nothing prepares you for your debut year and I wouldn’t have gotten through it without the Class of 2K18 or my fabulous girlfriends: Deborah McCandless, Kitty Harvey, Ame Igharo, Brooke Edwards-Plant, Andrea Ledoux-Richards, Annie Stone. ¡Mil gracias a todas #LasMusas! Being part of the wonderful KidLit community, I’ve met so many extraordinary writers who I’m also fortunate to consider friends: Kamilla Benko, Ali Standish, Karen M. McManus, Alice Broadway, Heidi Heilig, Kaitlyn Sage Patterson, Dhonielle Clayton, CB Lee, Katie Locke, Sarah Ahiers, Vic James, Elizabeth Lim, Natalie C. Parker, Zoraida Córdova, Sara Holland, April G. Tucholke, Melissa Albert, Sangu Mandanna, Stacey Lee, Lexa Hillyer, Kayla Whaley, Megan Bannen, Lydia Kang, Rachel Lynn Solomon, Elsie Chapman, Elly Blake, Marieke Nijkamp, Julia Ember, Rebecca Schaeffer, Laura Lam, Beth Revis, Amie Kaufman. If you’re still reading, run don’t walk to buy all of their books!
Last but not least, to my husband, Jack: Not you without me, not me without you—not even primordial magic can break our vow.
GLOSSARY
A NOTE ON LANGUAGES AND NAMES
The languages used in the Sweet Black Waves Trilogy are based, fairly loosely, on ancient and medieval languages. As I have adapted the Tristan legends for my retelling, Ireland has become Iveriu, Cornwall has become Kernyv, and the Roman Empire has become the Aquilan Empire. I have taken liberties with history and linguistic accuracy while trying to postulate how the political realities of my world might influence the development of its languages.
Today, nearly half the world’s population speaks what are known as Indo-European languages. This group includes English, most of the European languages, but also Sanskrit and Persian. One branch is the Celtic languages, which are now spoken primarily in northwestern Europe: Ireland, Cornwall, Scotland, Wales, Brittany, and the Isle of Man (as well as small diaspora communities), but during the first millennium BCE these languages were spoken as far afield as the Iberian Peninsula, the Black Sea, and Asia Minor. The Celtic languages are further divided into two groups: the Goidelic (Irish, Manx, and Scottish Gaelic) and the Brittonic (Cornish, Welsh, and Breton).
Since the nineteenth century, scholars have been working to re-create the Proto-Indo-European language—the hypothesized common ancestor to all Indo-European languages. Celtic linguists have also made significant headway in the reconstruction of Proto-Celtic, the language from which all Celtic languages derive.
Therefore, my fabricated Ivernic language is based on Old Irish and Proto-Celtic, whereas my Kernyvak language is based on Proto-Celtic and the Brittonic languages. For the Aquilan language words I have looked to Proto-Italic—the forbearer of Latin—for inspiration. Given that the Aquilan Empire occupied the island of Albion for hundreds of years before Branwen’s story begins, I have also allowed for there to be some linguistic influence of the Aquilan language on Kernyvak. Since the Aquilan Empire never invaded Iveriu, their languages would have remained quite separate. Although, of course, Branwen and the rest of the Ivernic nobility speak Aquilan as a second language.
In creating the place-names for Branwen’s world, I have tried to incorporate relevant aspects of the Celtic tradition. For example, rīganī is the reconstructed Proto-Celtic word for “queen,” and since the Land is a female goddess in Iveriu, it made sense for me to name the seat of power Castle Rigani. Likewise, bodwā is the Proto-Celtic word for “fight,” which is fitting as the name of Branwen’s family castle given that their motto is The Right Fight.
The ancient language of trees that Branwen calls the first Ivernic writing is a reference to the Irish Ogham alphabet. It was devised between the first and fourth centuries CE to transfer the Irish language to written form and is possibly based on the Latin alphabet. Ogham is found in approximately four hundred surviving stone inscriptions and is read from the bottom up. In addition to representing a sound, the letters of the Ogham alphabet have the names of trees and shrubs. The Ogham letter coll translates as “hazel” and represents the /k/ sound as in kitten. The Ogham letter uillenn translates as “honeysuckle” and represents the /ll/ sound as in shell. Hence, when Branwen and Essy trace their private symbol, they are only writing two letters rather than a whole word.
The legend of Tristan and Isolt has been retold so many times in so many languages that simply choosing which form of the character names to use also poses somewhat of a challenge. Two possible origins for Tristan’s name include Drustanus, son of Cunomorus, who is mentioned on a sixth-century stone inscription found in Cornwall, or a man named Drust, son of King Talorc of the Picts, who ruled in late eighth-century Scotland.
In the early Welsh versions of the legend, Drust becomes Tristan or Drystan. Tristan was the name propagated by the French poets, who employed its similar sound to the French word tristesse (“sadness”) for dramatic effect. Another consistent feature of the legends is Tristan’s disguising his identity by calling himself Tantris—an anagram of his name—and I therefore decided to do the same.
While the name Isolt is probably the most easily recognized, it is in fact derived from the Welsh name Essyllt. The French poets translated her name as Yso(lt) or Yseu(l)t(e). I have therefore synthesized the two for my Eseult.
In the Continental versions of the story, Isolt’s lady’s maid is usually called Brangien or Brangain. However, this is a borrowing from the Old Welsh name Branwen (br.n “raven” + (g)wen “fair”). This choice was also inspired by another Branwen from the Middle Welsh Mabinogion, the earliest prose stories in British literature. The Second Branch of the Mabinogi is called Branwen uerch Lyr (“Branwen, daughter of Llŷr”), the meaning of the patronym ap Llŷr being “Son of the Sea,” and the connection that the Branwen of The Sweet Black Waves Trilogy feels for the sea was inspired by this forerunner.
The Branwen of the Mabinogion is a member of a Welsh royal family who is given in marriage to the King of Ireland to prevent a war after one of her brothers has offended him. When Branwen arrives at the Irish court, the vassals of the King of Ireland turn him against his new queen and she is forced to submit to many humiliations. Her brothers then declare war on Ireland, and Branwen is the cause of the war her marriage was meant to prevent.
Several prominent Celtic scholars have made the case that the Welsh Branwen can trace her roots to Irish Sovereignty Goddesses or that both the Welsh and Irish material derive from the same, earlier source. Particular evidence of this is that Branwen’s dowry to the King of Ireland included the Cauldron of Regeneration, which could bring slain men back to life, and which served as the inspiration for Kerwindos’s Cauldron in my own work.
While there is no evidence of a direct connection between the Branwen of the Mabinogion and the Branwen of the Tristan legends, I find the possibility tantalizing, and so I have merged the two into my Branwen as a forceful female protagonist with magical abilities and a strong connection to the Land.
IVERNIC FESTIVALS
Imbolgos—Spring Festival of the Goddess Bríga
Belotnia—the Festival of Lovers
Laelugus—the Festival of Peace
Samonios—New Year Festival
IVERNIC LANGUAGE VOCABULARY
derew—a pain-relieving herb
comnaide—always
enigena—daughter
fidkwelsa—a strategy board game
Iverman/Ivermen—a person or persons from Iveriu
Iverni—the people of Iveriu
Ivernic—something of or relating to Iveriu
keylos—a traditional Ivernic musical band
kladiwos—an Ivernic type of sword
kridyom—heart-companion
krotto—an Ivernic type of harp
lesana—ring-forts belonging to the Old Ones
ráithana—hills belonging to the Old Ones
silomleie—an Ivernic type of cudgel made from blackthorn wood
skeakh—a whitethorn bush or tree
KERNYVAK FESTIVALS
Long Night—the shortest day of the year
Hunt of the Rixula—takes place the day before Long Night
Blessing of the Sea—a festival to mark the beginning of spring
KERNYVAK LANGUAGE VOCABULARY
damawinn—grandmother
dagos—better/good
dolos—pain
dymatis—“hello”/ “good day”
karid—beloved
Kernyv bosta vyken—“Kernyv forever”
Kernyvak—something of or relating to Kernyv
Kernyvman/Kernyvmen—a person or persons from Kernyv
Kernyveu—the people of Kernyv
kordweyd—a seer of the Cult of the Horned One
kretarv—carnivorous seabird
menantus—an apology/a deep brook
mormerkti—“thank you”
nosmatis—“good evening”
penaxta—prince
sekrev—“you’re welcome”
rix—kin
g
rixina—queen
rixula—“little queen”/a red-breasted bird
AQUILAN LANGUAGE VOCABULARY
ama—“I love”
amar—love
amare—bitter
de—of
eti—and
est—“is”
fálkr—a broad, curved sword
la—the
misrokord—a thin dagger; literally means “mercy”
odai—“I hate”
SOURCES, LITERARY TRANSMISSION, AND WORLD-BUILDING
The legend of Tristan and Isolt is one of the best-known myths in Western culture, and arguably the most popular throughout the Middle Ages. The star-crossed lovers have become synonymous with passion and romance itself.
When I first decided to write Branwen’s story, I put on my scholarly hat and reacquainted myself with the most influential versions of the Tristan tales, then followed their motifs and principle episodes backward in time before arranging them into a frame, a loom onto which Branwen’s story could come to life. Despite the numerous retellings of Tristan and Isolt throughout the medieval period, the structure remains remarkably consistent.
The names of the main characters can be traced to post-Roman Britain (sixth or seventh century CE). There was no real Tristan or King Arthur, but there are tantalizing stone inscriptions in the British Isles that suggest local folk heroes whose names became attached to a much older body of tales, some mythological in genesis. And while there is evidence that some motifs may have been borrowed from Hellenic, Persian, or Arabic sources, the vast majority are Celtic. Rather than viewing these Celtic stories as direct sources for the Tristan and Isolt narratives, however, most scholars agree the medieval Irish and Welsh material should be viewed as analogues that presumably stem from the same, now lost, pan-Celtic source.
These oral tales were probably preserved by the druids, and our earliest surviving versions were written down by Christian clerics in Ireland between the seventh and ninth centuries, and in twelfth-century Wales. Because Ireland was never conquered by the Roman Empire, it didn’t experience the same “Dark Age” as elsewhere in Europe. Women in early medieval Ireland also had many more rights and protections under the law, enshrined in Caín Adomnáin (Law of Adomán), ca. 679-704 CE, than their Continental counterparts—which is echoed in the strong female protagonists of its literature.
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