The House of Shattered Wings

Emmanuelle, as usual, was blunter. “Why?”


“Consider it . . . a whim,” he said. “But should you rise too high, Selene, it will be my pleasure to help you fall again. Farewell, until next time.” And he left, sidestepping roots as if they were mere inconveniences.

“Do you think we can trust him?” Emmanuelle asked.

Selene took her lover’s hand, and squeezed it. “Probably not,” she said. The future stretched out in front of her: sorting and clearing the rooms of the House, and rebuilding from scratch what needed to be rebuilt, with the presence of Morningstar always in the background, a mute reminder of what she had done, as head of the House; no better or no worse than what he had done. Perhaps Philippe was right, and perhaps all Houses were equally bad—perhaps they did, indeed, deserve to be wiped from the surface of the Earth.

But this was her House, her dominion, and she would fight tooth and claw for it until her dying day.

*

MADELEINE’S dreams were dark, and tormented—images flashed by, memories of lying in the darkness emptying herself of all blood; of Elphon’s death; of Isabelle, stumbling backward with her eyes staring at nothing—falling, again and again, into the maw of darkness, and never managing to wake up.

There were footsteps in the distance; a warmth that enfolded her like a fire in winter; someone lifting her, the steady rhythm of their walking as they carried her.

“Where—” she whispered.

“Shh,” Asmodeus’s voice said. “We’re going home, Madeleine.”

And she ought to have been scared or angry or grieving—but all she felt, sinking back into darkness, was relief that she was no longer alone.

*

PHILIPPE buried Isabelle near the Grands Magasins. He waited until night had come, so that no one would see him. Then he moved khi currents of earth to create a makeshift grave beneath the cobblestones—into which he lowered her body, and the wings she had borne.

He closed the grave, and stood for a while, staring at the undisturbed earth that was her final resting place.

The curse was still within him; the pull of the darkness that had once doomed him. He had been a fool to think that he would ever be free of it: it was his burden to bear, just as her silence in his mind was his, forever and ever, through the ages of the world; a reminder of the task he had set for himself, walking away from the ruins of Silverspires.

He had seen Morningstar; not the phantom of his nightmares, not through Nightingale’s bitter memories; but as a living, breathing soul.

Somewhere in this city—somewhere in this teeming mass of Houses and gangs and other factions—was a way to resurrect the dead. And he could wait until Quan Am finally saw fit to grant Her mercy to a Fallen and give Isabelle the blessing of reincarnation—knowing that she wouldn’t reincarnate here, or now, or any place that they would have in common—or he could go out and look for that way; and return to Isabelle what had been stolen from her.

“Fare you well, Isabelle. Wherever you are. I hope we meet again.”

He knew they would.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


NOVELS, of course, do not happen in a vacuum; and this one went through a number of iterations!

I owe big thanks to Trish Sullivan and Steph Burgis, who have read multiple drafts of this, and supported me along the writing journey.

Many thanks as well to Alis Rasmussen, Kari Sperring, and Rhiannon Rasmussen-Silverstein, for convincing me not to set fire to the entire manuscript while we were in Brittany together. D. Franklin read the book (and other things) in record time and kindly discussed possible fixes with me. My writing group, Written in Blood (Genevieve Williams, Keyan Bowes, Traci Morganfield, Dario Ciriello, Doug Cohen, and Chris Cevasco), provided much-needed critiques right before I submitted the manuscript. Leticia Lara, in addition to being generally awesome, provided some much-needed feedback (and the much-needed feeling that this could be a real book!).

C. L. Holland came up with the awesome title during our brainstorming sessions on Twitter. Joe Monti very kindly gave me advice on publishing and promotional efforts.

I would also like to thank Elizabeth Bear, Mary Robinette Kowal, and Ken Liu for their advice and general support.