A Conjuring of Light (Shades of Magic, #3)

by V.E. Schwab

Kell sprinted, and got there just in time to see the shadow king hit the water of the Isle far below. His body struck without a splash, and as it broke the surface and sank, it began to plume like spilled ink through the current. Lila pressed against him, straining to see. Shouts were going up over the roof, but the two of them stood and watched in silent horror as the plume of darkness grew, and grew, and grew, spreading until the red of the river turned black.

This right here, this is where AGOS originally ended. And maybe you're thinking, okay, but this doesn't seem as cruel. You're wrong. Why? Because in the original version, I killed more than half the cast in this rooftop scene. That's what happens when you don't get enough sleep. People die. I was getting a master's degree at the time, and my editor called me up and told me to take a nap, a really long nap, and then redo it.

“How many will go?” Lila wasn’t about to miss this. She raised her hand. So did Alucard and Lenos. And so did Kell. He did this while holding the king’s gaze, as if daring the monarch to say no. But the king said nothing, and neither did Rhy. The prince only stared at his brother’s raised hand, his face unreadable. Across the room, Alucard folded his arms and scowled at Kell. “This can’t possibly go wrong,” he muttered.

In an AGOS note, I pointed out that ensemble scenes involving characters that intensely dislike each other are my favorite to write because of the inherent tension. Still true. When I was plotting this book, I cackled at the idea of putting all those characters on a boat together. And then I knew I had to do it.

Kell lifted himself onto one elbow above her. He looked down at her for a long, searching moment, and then a mischievous grin flickered across his face. “All right,” he said. “I’ll teach you.” His copper lashes sank low over his two-toned eyes. “There’s As Travars, to travel between worlds.” She rolled her eyes. “I know that one.” He lowered himself a fraction, bringing his lips to her ear. “And As Tascen,” he continued, breath warm. “To move within a world.” She felt a shiver of pleasure as his lips brushed her jaw. “And As Hasari,” he murmured. “To heal.” His mouth found hers, stealing a kiss before he said, “As Staro. To seal.” And she would have let him linger there, but his mouth continued downward. “As Pyrata.” A breath against the base of her throat. “To burn.” His hands sliding beneath the fabric of her shirt. “As Anasae.” A blossom of heat between her breasts. “To dispel.” Above her navel. “As Steno.” One hand unlacing the ties of her slacks. “To break.” Guiding them off. “As Orense.” His teeth skimming her hip bone. “To open…”

I blushed the entire time I was writing this scene. I remember emailing my editor around midnight using only anime gifs. I was convinced she would hate it, but in the end, she replied with her own gif-filled email. I knew we were a good match ;)

“The Steel Prince,” said Sol-in-Ar, and then, reading Maxim’s expression: “It surprises you, that the tales of your exploits reach beyond your own borders?” The Faroan’s fingers grazed the edge of the map. “The Steel Prince, who tore the heart from the rebel army. The Steel Prince, who survived the night of knives. The Steel Prince, who slayed the pirate queen.” Maxim finished his drink and set the glass aside. “I suppose we never know the scale of our life’s stories. Which parts will survive, and which will die with us,

I am going to do something with this ;) I can't tell you what it is yet.

It ends, he thought—no fear, only relief, and sadness. He had tried. Had given everything he could. But he was so tired. The rustle of leaves in his ears was getting louder, and he felt himself sinking against the tree, into the embrace of something softer than metal, darker than night. His heart slowed, winding down like a music box, a season at its end. The last air left Holland’s lungs. And then, at last, the world breathed in.

When I started ADSOM, I thought I knew how ACOL would end. I thought I knew where each character would be. And it worked. Except for Holland. I tried so hard to save him. I wrote it a dozen times. And in the end, it wasn't right. The book was out of balance. I'd written him as the Someday King, and he had a role to play, but it couldn't happen without sacrifice. It had to be bittersweet, and selflless, since selfishness is what made magic withdraw from White London in the first place. But it hurt. Oh, it hurt.

Kell wore a coat that billowed in the wind. It was neither royal red, nor messenger black, nor tournament silver. This coat was a simple, woolen grey. He wasn’t quite sure if it was new or old or something in between, only that he’d never seen it before. Not until that morning when, turning his coat past black and red, he’d come across a side he didn’t recognize. This new coat had a high collar, and deep pockets, and sturdy black buttons that ran down the front. It was a coat for storms, and strong tides, and saints knew what else. He planned to find out, now that he was free.

I wanted to come full circle. Four years ago I sat down in a small flat in Edinburgh and wrote the opening lines of ADSOM--"Kell wore a very peculiar coat"--and just as I played with recurring lines of dialogue in these closing chapters, I knew that Kell's last chapter should return to his coat. His coat, which always knew what he needed before he himself did. His coat, which produced Kamerov Loste's jacket before he joined the tournament, and which now produces a garment for the next chapter of his journey. I wanted it to be my last little nod to the fact that in this series, some doors close and new ones open.