The Last Namsara (Iskari #1)(99)

“They weren’t always nightmares. They were just dreams, once.” She felt him smile in the darkness, thinking about them. “Dreams about a scarred girl who rode a black dragon.”

The music stopped as he lowered his lute. It fell to the sand with a soft thud.

“And then you got burned. That’s when I knew, for certain, the girl I’d been dreaming about was you. That’s when the dreams turned into nightmares.”

Asha swallowed.

“I know what it means,” he said. “I’ve always known what it means.”

Asha felt her eyes burn with tears.

“I’ll put you in danger,” she said, admitting her deepest fear.

“Haven’t we been through this? I love danger.”

“Torwin.”

“Asha.” His voice went soft and careful. “I’ve only ever wanted three things. A lute of my own, to make music with. A life of my own, to do what I want with. And the girl I’ve been dreaming about for as long as I can remember. A girl who was always out of reach. . . .”

He reached for her, his fingers curling around her arms, closing the gap between them, tying up their loose and fraying threads.

“You could die,” she whispered.

“Everything dies,” he whispered back. “I’m afraid of so much more than dying.”

A lump gathered in her throat. Thinking of Willa, she said, “Then may Death send his worst.”

Torwin cupped her neck with his hand, touching his forehead to hers.

“Cold to freeze the love in my heart.”

His thumb, warm from playing, brushed along her jaw.

“Fire to burn my memories to ash.”

He pressed his mouth against her throat, making Asha fumble her words.

“W-wind to force me through the gates.”

He trailed kisses up her neck, and Asha had to close her eyes against the pull of him.

“Time to wear my loyalty away.”

The kisses stopped.

“I’ll wait for you, Torwin—”

The final words were lost in the softness of his mouth.

Several heartbeats later, Asha broke away, needing to finish. “I’ll wait for you at Death’s gate.”

And there was the tapestry: its threads no longer fraying.

There was the tapestry: finished, whole.

“Do you promise?” he whispered, seizing her wrists and pulling her close.

She nodded.

“Ah, but you made me another promise once and you never came through on it. So how can I trust you?”

Asha frowned. “What promise?”

He placed her hands around his neck, then slid his arms around her waist as a honeyed hum rose up from the depths of his throat. It was the song he’d just been playing. While he hummed, he led her in the steps of a slow, three-beat dance.

“Torwin?”

“Mmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Dancing with you.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Well, you’re about to learn, aren’t you.”

Asha smiled as his song filled the air around them. She laughed as she tripped over him when he tried to lead her in the steps. Soon though, her feet found the rhythm. Soon, she was twirling through the sand.

He pulled her back.

“You’re beautiful and precious and good,” he whispered. “And I love you.”

Asha looked up at him, there beneath the stars, and found herself starting to believe these things were true.

Maybe Greta was right. Maybe everyone did have a song in them—or a story. One all their own. If that were so, Asha had found hers.

And here she stood at the beginning of it.





Acknowledgments


I started writing this book when I was seventeen. Back then I was enamored of girls like Mulan, Eowyn, Xena, and Princess Mononoke. I desperately craved stories in which young women got to wield weapons or go to war or be fierce. I didn’t realize it then, but what I was looking for were girls breaking out of a cultural script that dictated who and what they could be. I was tired of the narrative that said women were inherently weaker, inherently victims. I didn’t see myself that way, nor did I see the women around me that way.

I wanted something different. So I started writing this story.

But writing the story is just the beginning. Something you don’t see when you pick up a book from the shelf is just how many people were involved in getting it onto that shelf. Though my name might be on the cover, The Last Namsara was by no means a solitary feat. These are the people who helped me make it what it is today. . . .

First and foremost: Heather Flaherty, my world brightener and fiercely optimistic agent. Thank you for fighting so hard for me and this book. I think we were waiting for you.

Kristen Pettit, my sweet and inimitable editor. I adore you. Thank you not only for making my books better, but for being so supportive of me.

The amazing team at the Bent Agency, including Jenny Bent (for making so many dreams come true), Victoria Cappello (for having endless patience with me and my pesky questions), and most especially my UK agent, Gemma Cooper, for finding my books the perfect UK home.

A big huge thank-you to the entire team at HarperTeen who helped turn this book into a beautiful reality, most especially: Renée Cafiero, Allison Brown, Martha Schwartz, Megan Gendell, Vincent Cusenza, Audrey Diestelkamp, Olivia Russo, Michelle Taormina (I can’t even count the hours I’ve spent staring adoringly at my cover), and Elizabeth Lynch (for being all-around amazing, but especially for writing jacket copy so beautiful it made me cry).