I fall into Azmar, kissing him, almost knocking him over. I kiss him until I’m breathless, until our tears mingle and lips swell. Forehead to forehead, I whisper, “I’ll miss Unach, too.”
His arm winds around my waist and holds me close. I’ve become so unaccustomed to happiness that it hurts.
“She’ll hate me for this,” I mutter into his hair.
“She’ll forgive you,” he promises, tugging on his bloodstone. “She always forgives, in time.”
We follow the canyon, walking largely during evening and night. This time of year, the relentless sun blisters even the thickest of skin. Azmar has a hammock he can nail into the lip of the canyon when we can’t find cover to camp under. I’m convinced that a soldier or scout will spy us, or that a monster will brave the surface, but the journey is uneventful. For now, the battles are over. For now, I am at peace under the stars, with the first of the family a Cosmodian once promised me.
Two hundred miles north of the Empyrean Bridge, the canyon narrows and juts eastward, stretching to join the line of mountains that guard the northern border of Mavaea. I’ve never traveled as far as the mountains. My father’s map listed no townships farther north than Ungo. But north we go, foraging in the mornings, resting in the afternoons, murmuring stories in the evenings, making love in the depths of night. I think of Azmar’s confession, of his desire for change, and wonder how tedious he finds our travel. But he never once complains, even when our food stores run low.
On the eighteenth day, we find something unexpected in the early morning hours. Something we might have missed, had we passed it at night. A trail through the sagebrush, narrow, packed, and winding. Forking away from the canyon where the crag snakes lurk, toward the shelter of the mountains. I feel in my gut that this is it, the path to Tayler’s home. A place that might accept me and Azmar. A place of hope.
We’ve only walked a quarter mile down the trail when I remark on the dimness of the day, as though the sun hesitates to rise. Azmar’s footsteps stop. I turn to see what the matter is. His head is tilted up, watching the sky.
“Lark, look.”
I look and see the most peculiar thing. A large, dark cloud creeps across the sky, smothering the sun and cooling the breeze.
A drop of rain strikes my cheek.
Acknowledgments
I am so very grateful to everyone who helped me with this book. Biggest thanks to my husband, Jordan, who quietly works behind the scenes so books can happen; my friend Leah O’Neill, who answered countless questions about civil engineering so Azmar would work as a character; and Caitlyn McFarland, who spent hours on the phone to help me get over the initial hump of writer’s block and make this story really shine. I also want to thank Nancy Campbell Allen—it was a chat with her that made the idea for this story come alive.
This was one of those trickier tales. I absolutely adore this book, but I wrote the first two-thirds of it before Star Mother, so if you read the acknowledgments for that book, you’ll know what I mean when I say this novel was sacrificed to the great breaking of 2019. It was hard to come back to, but I’m so grateful I did, because The Hanging City is now one of my favorite books in my collection. I hope everyone reading enjoys it!
Thank you to Marlene Stringer and Adrienne Procaccini, who got this project into the light of day, and to Jason Kirk, my reunited partner in crime, who helped polish this into something amazing. Thank you to the team of people who line up every sentence and place every missed comma. We all take legibility for granted.
Another special thanks to Tricia Levenseller and Rachel Maltby, who suffered through early drafts with incredible patience, especially considering that I didn’t use spell-check.
Finally, my gratitude to God, who pulls me through dark times and rewards me with imagination and the ability to share it with the world.
I have so many more stories to tell.
About the Author
Charlie N. Holmberg is a Wall Street Journal and Amazon Charts bestselling author of fantasy and romance fiction, including the Paper Magician series, the Spellbreaker series, and the Whimbrel House series, and writes contemporary romance under C. N. Holmberg. She is published in more than twenty languages, has been a finalist for a RITA Award and multiple Whitney Awards, and won the 2020 Whitney Award for Novel of the Year: Adult Fiction. Born in Salt Lake City, Charlie was raised a Trekkie alongside three sisters who also have boy names. She is a BYU alumna, plays the ukulele, and owns too many pairs of glasses. She currently lives with her family in Utah. Visit her at www.charlienholmberg.com.