The Knight and the Moth (The Stonewater Kingdom, #1)

by Rachel Gillig

And in all that dreaming, in all the holy things that came of it, I broke my promise. I forgot all about Sybil Delling.

And I wondered why. Why didn’t the Omens speak to me like this? In a melody or a spin or the heartbeat of a drum? Not in the spring, in dreams, where I was in pain and afraid, but like this, loose and infinite, when my soul was split open and thrown skyward in delight.

“Which is more intricate?” he mused. “The designs of men, trying to reach gods, or that of gods, trying to reach men?” My hammer collided with a chunk of granite. “What is either to the intricacies of women, who reach both?”

craftsmen—and that I was better than all of them.” I bit my lip. “It sounds awful when I say it out loud.” “True things often do.”

“I think contentedness,” I said bitterly, “is just a story we tell ourselves.”

“If you only ever look up at something, can you ever see it clearly?”

“What is magic, what is memory, and why are both so haunting?”

“The rest of the story could not exist without us.”

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.