There is a world between all worlds where dreams and nightmares slumber.
Stars wink in and out of being in the darkness that cradles them. They are tended to by their keepers, sometimes a girl who wears hopes and dreams like a glittering crown of stars, sometimes a boy who weaves fears and nightmares into a cloak he bears so she need not have to.
They, too, hear the song that soars through the skies.
The drowned gods knew of them, once. But they did not call on the girl of stars or the boy of darkness like the others they lured to their sea of ash; they did not need them, only the four. The scholar, the witch, the warrior, and the guardian. Four keys to open a door, four lives to serve as payment, four parts of a whole trapped in a world not their own.
The skies always remember the blood and bones and heart and soul—but never the fragments of dreaming in between, for those belong to no world, and so belong to all. The fifth key that slumbers unseen among the stars.
And so it is that when the skies grow quiet with the absence of song, the girl dons her crown, the boy his cloak, and together they sail through the dark toward the sea of ash, ready to join the others at last. To save them from their prison of dust and nothingness at the center of all things.
Tell me a story, the girl says dreamily as they sail through worlds and between them too.
The boy sets his eye on the distant horizon, his cloak of nightmares rippling in the wind.
There is a scholar on these shores who breathes stories, he begins.
It is a tale both of them know but have yet to make their own. And as they sail the skies and seas and everything in between, following the memory of a song like a map through the stars, the story becomes theirs, its ending yet unwritten.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THIS BOOK WAS NOT MY first love.
There were two who came before it: the story that sparked my passion for writing, and the one that haunted me for a decade after. Curious Tides is the story I was always meant to find. The one that took time. It’s got a lot of me in it: dreams, regrets, flaws, hopes. I wrote it looking back at my early twenties, a time that feels like a crossroads between who you are and who you want to be. I lost sight of who I was then, and writing this was a bit like finding my old self again. It feels right that it should be the book I debut with.
I couldn’t have done this without all of those who took a chance on me. First and foremost, to my absolute rock star of an agent, Victoria Marini: grateful doesn’t even begin to cover it. This industry can seem intimidating from the outside looking in, but having you in my corner makes it feel less so. Thank you for being the best, most trustworthy advocate I could have asked for—and for being Kai’s number one fan.
To my editor, Sarah McCabe: there aren’t enough words to express how lucky I am to have found someone whose vision for Curious Tides so perfectly resonates with my own. Your edit letters always leave me brimming with excitement and ideas. Thank you for helping me bring this story to life. And to Anum Shafqat: I’m so happy you came onboard with Sarah. If two heads are better than one, then three’s the winning number. Working with you both has been a dream—thanks for the brainstorming sessions, without which I would have been lost.
An immense thank-you to everyone at McElderry Books/Simon & Schuster who worked on this book in any capacity and helped make my wildest dreams possible: Justin Chanda, Karen Wojtyla, Anne Zafian, Bridget Madsen, Elizabeth Blake-Linn, Chrissy Noh, Caitlin Sweeny, Alissa Nigro, Bezi Yohannes, Perla Gil, Remi Moon, Amelia Johnson, Ashley Mitchell, Yasleen Trinidad, Saleena Nival, Emily Ritter, Amy Lavigne, Lisa Moraleda, Nicole Russo, Nicole Valdez, Christina Pecorale and her sales team, Michelle Leo and her education/library team, freelance copy editor Jen Strada, and of course Ali Dougal and the rest of the UK team.
A big thank-you also to designer Greg Stadnyk and artist Signum Noir for wrapping Curious Tides in such a beautiful jacket, and to Francesca Baerald for creating the most gorgeous maps. And to J. T. Sisounthone and Cam Montgomery, whose authenticity reads provided such valuable insight—thank you for the work you do.
This book would not be what it is today without the brilliant minds of Kat Dunn and Sarah Underwood, who helped me shape it into a story I’m proud of. Thank you for choosing me to be your Pitch Wars mentee. I love and admire you both. And to all my fellow PitchWars 2021 alums: what an honor it was to have been part of the last class with you. I cannot wait to see us all on shelves one day—and maybe go for some celebratory waffles.
I’ve always been a rather solitary person and thought writing would be no different. I couldn’t have been more wrong. To my very first writer friend, Kapri Psych, thank you for the hours of FaceTime chats and long voice notes about our stories and fur babies and hopes and dreams. One of these days we’ll stop apologizing to each other when it takes us a while to reply.
To Adrian Graves, hype woman extraordinaire, thank you for coming into my life and letting me scream at you every step of the way. And for introducing me to Ratatouille.
To the beta readers who suffered through early drafts of Curious Tides and provided such thoughtful feedback; to those who read the first chapter so long ago and hyped it up when I needed it most; to everyone who let me pester them with questions about querying and other publishing matters; and to all the amazing, encouraging writer friends I’ve met along the way—thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. I could not have done this without all of you. To name but a few: Jen Carnelian, Kamilah Cole, Miriam Cortinovis, Lilian Lai, Chelsea Abdullah, Kiana Krystle, Bailey Knaub, Jenny Marie, Trang Thanh Tran, Emma Theriault for the coffee dates, SJ Donders and Suzey Ingold for that cozy writing retreat (I’m so glad Adrian brought us together).
And to the artists who helped me bring the characters in my mind to life when I was still struggling to visualize them: Amanda S. Dumky, Georgina Donnelly, @stellesappho, you are all so talented—and to Marcella (@mariamarcelw), who went above and beyond.
Thank you, of course, to the people in my life who have had to listen to me talk about this book for so long now and who have never doubted I could do this (as far as I know—otherwise thank you for pretending). To Crystal Lanois for the constant laughs over all our years of friendship (cue “Hold On” by Wilson Phillips). To Mylène Lavallée for your unwavering enthusiasm. Don’t worry, you don’t have to read this—your support is more than enough. To Valérie Patry for our many connard-connasse-douchebag outings to Chapters, the movies, ComicCon, etcetera—our friendship has fueled my creativity and love of stories in more ways than you know. To Gabriel Landry for the late-night wine talks about all the books and shows we love, and for encouraging me every time I poked my head out of the office/writing cave.
And to Marie-ève Landry: we’ve been called twins our whole lives, and while we may have never seen it ourselves, I’ve always thought there was some glimmer of truth there. You’re my soul twin. Thanks for thirty years of friendship and counting—and for being a fan since Les Dix Royaumes.