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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Bear with me. There’s a story yet to tell.
Once, there was an author who caught Covid. It took her a long time to recover. And even when she thought she had, fatigue and brain fog remained like a bad houseguest, long overstaying their welcome. The author grew tired, then sad, then hopeless.
And she worried.
To be fair, worry warranted no immediate alarm. It happened to this author often and spiritedly. But she was writing a fresh book, and the two that had come before it were doing well (something to celebrate and decidedly not worry over), and yet she was struck down by the fear that her brain fog would not relent. That writing a third book would prove impossible. That it would be bereft of creativity—of magic. She cried many tears, convinced beyond reasoning that she had lost something precious. That her new story simply… wouldn’t be enough.
This isn’t a particularly unique tale of woe. Perhaps you, too, have experienced something good and, in its aftermath, in a moment of sickness or tiredness or huma
The truth is, creativity ventures hither and yon, like a mercurial cat. She will not thank you for forcing her into your arms, yet on a day of seemingly no importance, even when you are sick, even when you are hopeless, she paws at your door. Slowly, the author (you know this is about me by now, yes?) began to feel like herself again. Gradually, the creativity, the magic, returned. She wrote her third book. It’s about a woman who tries her best, an errant knight who falls in love with her, and a precious limestone gargoyle. It’s about what we lose and what we gain, the arduous journey of self-discovery—the painful, beautiful burden of living. I hope you’ve enjoyed it. To me, it’s enough.
Okay. On to the proper thanks.
To my husband, John, and my son, Owen. I think about Owen in his little yellow hat ru
To my family and friends, my greatest cheerleaders. Thank you for making me talk about my writing and for supporting it. I love you all so dearly.
To Whitney Ross, my agent, who reads all my early drafts and helps me more than words can express to get my stories in order. Every day is a day I am grateful to have you as a partner in this business. Your instincts and feedback and kindness and friendship are diamonds—I am made so rich to have them.
To Brit Hvide, my editor extraordinaire. Were this book a musical composition, I would be the frantic composer, scribbling notes and plunking madly upon my instrument, and you would be my metronome, my time signature, my key. You give me rhythm, you give me order, you give me perspective. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You are full of magic.
To Nadia Saward, my other editor extraordinaire, from whom I was also blessed to have feedback for this book. You are full of wisdom and encouragement—your notes on the romance had me kicking my feet with glee. I appreciate you so very much!
To Heather Baror-Shapiro, my foreign rights agent. You are phenomenal! Thank you for taking such great care of my books. I’m so lucky to have you on my team.
To Mary Pender, who has stepped in to handle all my merchandising. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I appreciate your insight and care toward my career so much.
To the teams at Orbit US and UK. I blinked, and now we are on our third book together! Time is fu
To Kalie Cassidy, whom I called when I was sick and despairing and asked, in a very little voice, “Is this book any good?” “Yes. Of course. Now go sleep all day.” You are wise and unbelievably talented and take care of my soul more than you realize. You are my writing wife. The Wirt to my Greg. All things in this strange profession are bearable with you as my friend.
To Sarah Garcia. Well, well, well. Here I am, a proud little toad to have written another book. I hope you’re happy with yourself. And watch this—I’ll even be vulnerable a moment. I’m scared a lot of the time to make mistakes. To flail and be “bad” at things. So often I am accepting of yesterday’s Rachel while pi
To the artists out there, working by pen or paint or note or whatever instrument you choose. How beautiful you are. How resilient you remain in this tumultuous world, keeping to your craft. Thank you. I believe in you as I believe in love—eternally.
To my readers. Oh, how I adore you. You followed me into the mist, and now you walk with me through moonlight, into hamlets and over stones and past gowan flowers. I ca