A Darker Shade of Magic (Shades of Magic, #1)

by V.E. Schwab

Kell wore a very peculiar coat. It had neither one side, which would be conventional, nor two, which would be unexpected, but several, which was, of course, impossible.

More than any other detail in the series, readers ask me about the inspiration for Kell's coat. The truth? It's my nod to Harry Potter--specifically the Room of Requirement.

The only items on display were a book of poems, a glass ball filled with black sand, and a set of maps. The poems were by a man named Blake, and had been given to Kell by a Collector in Grey London the year before, the spine already worn to nothing.

Throughout the series there are a few things that tie Kell and Lila's fates together. This is one. In A Gathering of Shadows we learn that Lila's mother read her Blake poems, and consequently Lila uses them to help her summon and focus magic.

Kell saw the man. Holland. The Antari’s skin was nearly colorless, and charcoal hair swept across his forehead, ending just above his eyes. One of them was a greyish green, but the other was glossy and black. And when that eye met Kell’s, it felt like two stones sparking against each other. “I’ve come with a letter,” said Kell.

Authors are often asked if they write their characters with certain actors in mind, and 9 times out of 10, my answer is no. Holland (no, there's no special meaning behind his name, he simply came with it) is the one exception. When I first put pen to paper on this highly guarded character, I based him on Mads Mikkelsen, aka Hannibal.

The world vanished and an instant later reappeared, and Kell collapsed to the cobblestoned street, the subtle, steady light of Red London replaced by the dank, smoke-filled Grey London night. He stayed a moment on his hands and knees, and actually considered losing consciousness right there in the alley, but finally managed to get to his feet. When he did, the city slanted dangerously around him. He took two steps, and promptly collided with a man in a mask and a broad brim hat. Distantly, Kell knew it was strange, to be wearing a disguise, but he was hardly in a position to judge appearances, given his current state.

Long before A DARKER SHADE OF MAGIC was a story, or even a real idea, it was nothing but an image in my head, a still frame of a single moment, when a young magician collided with a mysterious girl dressed as a boy, and she picked his pocket. This moment, the meeting of Kell and Lila, was the true first step on the journey that would become the Shades of Magic series.

She considered him a moment before answering. “Delilah Bard,” she said. “But Lila will do.” Lila. A soft name but she used it like a knife, slashing out on the first syllable, the second barely a whisper of metal through air.

This was the very first thing I wrote for Lila Bard, scribbled in a notebook when I was planning characters.

“Lila…,” began Kell, but it was too late. Black smoke was already pouring between her knuckles, much more of it than before, and taking shape in the room between them. This time, instead of a weapon, it pulled itself into the form of a young man. Not just any young man, Kell realized as the features smoothed from smoke into flesh. It was Kell. The resemblance was nearly flawless, from the coat with its fraying hem to the reddish hair that fell across his face, obscuring his black eye. Only this Kell had no blue eye. Both glistened as hard and black as the rock in Lila’s hand. The apparition didn’t move, not at first, only stood there waiting. The Kell that was Kell glared at the Kell that wasn’t. “What do you think you’re doing?” The question was directed at Lila. “Just having a bit of fun,” she said. “You can’t go around making people.” “Obviously I can,” she said. And then, the black-eyed Kell began to move. He shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto the nearest chair. And then, Kell watched with horror as his echo began to unfasten his tunic, one button at a time. Kell gave a small, strangled laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Lila only smiled and rolled the stone in her palm as the Kell that wasn’t Kell slid slowly, teasingly, out of his tunic and stood there, bare chested. His fingers began to undo the belt at his waist.

It says something about how well I knew Lila from the start than the fact I knew this was exactly what she would do, given the stone. Sword first, mischief second. For the mischievous, there's no better target than the earnest, and Kell is painfully earnest.

She dragged her head up and saw Kell standing in the road, the strange magical boy in his black coat, looking breathless and angry. Lila couldn’t believe it. He’d come back. But why had he come back? Before she could ask, he looked straight at her—one eye black and one blue and both wide—and said a single word. “Run.”

Yes, there is a lot of running in this book. Blame the 10th Doctor.

“I’m not afraid of dying. But I am afraid of dying here.” She swept her hand over the room, the tavern, the city. “I’d rather die on an adventure than live standing still.”

I adore writing dialogue. I find scraps of scattered through notebooks and receipts, tacked to surfaces on post-its. A reader recently asked if I know when I've written something that will go on to be a quote, to which the honest answer is...sometimes. I get a tickle behind my ribs. This was one of those times. I wrote it, and I thought, "There, that line, that will come to define Lila Bard." And as I write this note, it's been saved on GR more than 1,000 times, put on mugs, t-shirts, stickers, and even tattoos. I guess the tickle was right.

“Hello, flower boy.” The words came from Rhy’s mouth in a voice that was, and wasn’t, his.

For the record, nothing is trickier in fiction than writing one character possessed by another, especially when the two are different genders. Note the reliance on the possessive (Rhy's hand) instead of the proper name (Rhy or Atrid). The author's job is to allow the reader to imagine, for which clarity is crucial, but clarity at the cost of atmosphere presents its own problems. Never have I longed so much for a visual format as in the following chapters.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Beloc,” she said. “Don’t make me.” “I wish I didn’t have to.” He squared himself to her, holding his sword with both hands, his knuckles white. “You’ll have to go through me.” Lila growled and gripped her knife. “Please,” he added. “Please go through me.” Lila gave him a long hard look. “How?” she said at last. His brows went up in question. “How do you want to die?” she clarified. The fire in his eyes wavered for an instant, and then he recovered, and said, “Quickly.” Lila nodded. She lifted her knife, and he lowered his sword just a fraction, just enough. And then he closed his eyes and began to whisper something to himself. Lila didn’t hesitate. She knew how to use a knife, how to wound, and how to kill. She closed the gap between them and drove the blade between Beloc’s ribs and up before he’d even finished his prayer. There were worse ways to go, but she still swore under her breath at Athos and Astrid and the whole forsaken city as she lowered the boy’s body to the floor.

Believe it or not (I know I have a reputation for character brutality) I wanted Beloc to live. So much that he DID survive the original draft. And then my editor made me kill him. She could tell I was pulling the punch (or rather, the blade). Sorry, guys.

Lila’s back hit the pillar hard. She crumpled to the stone floor of the throne room, and blood ran into her false eye as she struggled to push herself to her hands and knees. Her shoulder cried out with pain, but so did the rest of her. She tried not to think about it. Astrid, meanwhile, seemed to be having a grand time. She was smiling lazily at Lila, like a cat with a kitchen mouse. “I am going to cut that smile off your face,” growled Lila as she staggered to her feet. She had been in a lot of fights with a lot of people, but she’d never fought anyone like Astrid Dane. The woman moved with both jarring speed and awkward grace, one moment slow and smooth, the next striking so fast that it was all Lila could do to stay on her feet. Stay alive. Lila knew she was going to lose. Lila knew she was going to die. But she’d be damned if it counted for nothing.

Nothing makes me happier than writing fight scenes. It's this brilliant challenge to ensure that a reader can SEE the fight play out without you narrating every blow. Seriously. If every scene could be a fight scene, I would make it one. But apparently characters need to do things like HEAL FROM FIGHT SCENES. Whatever. Buckle up for more fight scenes.

“You all right?” she asked when she reached him. “Never better,” he said, even though it was taking every ounce of his strength to focus his eyes on her, his mind on her. “How did you know?” she asked, looking down at the rubble of the queen. “How did you know she wasn’t me?” Kell managed an exhausted smile. “Because she said please.”

I loved this line so much, but kept expecting it to be cut because I knew I tended to lean into levity at inappropriate moments. But it turns out that a little levity can be a good thingin the midst of turmoil. Especially when things are about to get much worse.

“It’s too late,” said Vitari. “I already have your heart.” At that, his fingertips pressed down, and Kell gasped as Vitari’s hand passed into his chest. He felt Vitari’s fingers close around his beating heart, felt it lurch, darkness spilling across his tattered shirtfront like blood. “It’s over, Kell,” said the magic. “You’re mine.”

An argument for revision: the first draft of A DARKER SHADE OF MAGIC had no Vitari. The black stone was a tool of magic, but there was no entity within it, no creature guiding it, nothing with a WILL. Thus, there were no possessions, no spreading sickness. Vitari was added in the first round of edits, that magical time when an author takes their book apart and searches for ways to make it better. As you can imagine, ADSOM would have been a very different book without it.