Snow Like Ashes (39 page)

Authors: Sara Raasch

Tags: #Fantasy, #Young Adult, #Romance, #Adventure

BOOK: Snow Like Ashes

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Mather keeps his gaze firmly on the horizon as he talks, and if I hadn’t been looking at him, I might’ve accepted his lighthearted tone, his jovial manner. But I watch his face as he speaks, watch the way his eyes narrow, his lips pull into a thin line. There’s far too much truth in what he says.
I’m free.

Maybe it’s not a freedom he wants.

“When I was in Cordell,” I start, “and I had to play the part of their future queen, I pretended I was—” My words catch and I chuckle. “I pretended I was you.”

My confession hangs in the air, a whispered strand of words that hovers in the falling flakes of snow. Mather smiles at me through it, some of his tension softening before he drops his head in a small bow.

“My queen,” he says in response. He kicks his horse into a gallop that sends them both launching into the running horde, another body racing for Jannuari’s wall.

I watch him go, my chest unwinding. We’re really here. Jannuari. A city I’ve seen only in memories and dreams, its cobblestone streets, its cottages. The way snow falls constantly, an ever-present rain of perfect, unique flakes. It needs to snow. It needs to always snow.

Something wet tingles my nose. I look up, my mouth opening in a true, pure grin. Snowflakes fall now, steady and strong, pouring down all the way to Jannuari. Covering us as we should be covered—in winter. Breathtaking, frozen, perfect winter.

I urge my horse into a gallop, the steady beating of his hooves chasing after the others toward Jannuari, a place of snow and light.

Your city.

Hannah’s voice fills my senses, pulls up from the conduit magic that resides in me. She could talk to me all along, it appears, but didn’t want to risk revealing what I am to Angra, which is why she never stopped us from looking for the locket halves. It was all a cover to protect Winter’s line, and the dreams and visions were meant to ease me into conduits and magic, being linked to her in a way I never thought possible. My mother. I still have trouble adjusting to having a mother at all. I’m not sure where it fits in this new world.

Our city,
I amend.
We wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for you.

A knot of sadness forms in my head, Hannah’s regret and pain.
But you will succeed where I failed.
She pauses, and I can feel a wave of her remorse in the silence.
I wanted to tell you. So many times, I wanted to speak to you. I couldn’t risk you realizing who you are before you were old enough to use your magic, and if Angra found out what you are when you were still too young . . .
She pauses, gasps.
Our kingdom would have been lost forever.

I know,
I say. It’s all I can say. Today isn’t a day for tearful apologies. Today is a day for inhaling the cold, snowy air, watching the Winterians as I gallop through them, seeing their smiling, radiant faces.

I spot Nessa up ahead, laughing and throwing snowballs at Conall. I see Dendera on her own horse, racing Henn to the wall. Happy and free, like they always should have been. People in the light, not just words in the dark.

It doesn’t feel real. I’ve tried so long and so hard to be just Meira, but who I am isn’t as simple as
just
anything. It’s like this snowstorm over Jannuari—one flake falls, twisting down through the empty sky. One frozen speck of snow. Then another, and another, and before I know it the roads will be covered in dozens of distinct flakes. All these little pieces combining to create one giant, volatile snowstorm, something beautiful and dangerous and epic.

I’m Hannah’s daughter. I’m Winter’s conduit. I’m a warrior, a soldier, a lady, a queen, and most of all, as I plunge across the snowfield toward Jannuari’s silent ruin, I’m Meira.

And no matter what Angra might try to do, he will not stop me from washing away the ashes of this kingdom’s past and filling our lives with the glorious icy peace of snow.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’M NOT EVEN
sure where to begin with this fantastically intimidating thing. “Write your acknowledgments page,” they said. “It’ll be fun.” And yes, it would be fun, except I keep needing crying breaks, because this book is so many things all at once and so many people have come in and out of it and . . .

Oh geez. WATERWORKS.

First and most obviously of all, thanks are due to my severely epic agent, Mackenzie Brady. She is the kind of awesome where everything she says is at once brilliant and infuriating in how right she is.
Snow Like Ashes
owes much of its greatness to this woman, and without her I’d be lost.

To my editor, Kristin Rens, whose excitement for
Snow Like Ashes
took my breath away from day one. I still have a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that someone else loves my weird little world as much as I do, and has put so much time and effort into molding it. Kristin and all the people at Balzer + Bray are glorious, shining examples of publishing chivalry and might. Additionally, thanks are owed to Jeff Huang, who gave me the severely epic chakram along with severely epic giddiness. You, Sir, are wonderful.

To my ever-supportive, ever-positive, ever-forever husband (I will never get tired of calling you that!), Kelson. Being with you is the culmination of a lifelong dream every day.

To my writer friends who cheer me on, lift me up, and, when they have to, drag me back to earth in the most gentle and loving ways possible: Jenn “JR” Johansson (because double dates are more fun when our husbands listen to us yell at each other in the kitchen); Natalie Whipple (my cross-country-road-trip fairy godmother); Renee Collins (peachy good times!); Kasie West (the only person I’ll make Junior Mint cupcakes for); Candice Kennington (I will never stop loving Courant); Michelle D. Argyle (
Cinders
breaks my heart on a daily basis); Jillian Schmidt (Sophie and M are next); Kathryn Rose (you are the Holy Grail of friends); Laura Elliot (I love you so much it hurts a little); Samantha Verant (who, to me at least, is a French princess); Nikki Raasch (blood is thicker than ink); Nikki Wang (for making my first piece of fanart ever—you are glorious); the YA Valentines and the OneFours (debuting with you was an honor); and all the other critique partners, writing groups, Twitter friends, bloggers, and various writer types who have made me laugh, given me advice, and kept me going in this crazy world of ours.

To my parents, Doug and Mary Jo, whose pride and excitement remind me why I’m so lucky to be their daughter. To my sister, Melinda—I wish everyone could have a sister as entertaining and lovable as you, and I will try my hardest to get someone to make
Snow Like Ashes
into a movie. To my grandfather Don, who makes me proud to be a Raasch. To my grandmother Dottie, who is no longer with us, but if she was, I know she’d be making all kinds of
Snow Like Ashes
–themed quilts. To my fantastically varied and endearing family—Lisa, Eddie, Mike, Grandma Connie, Debbie, Dan, Aunt Brenda—and all my cousins who grow up way too fast—Suzanne, Lillian, William, Brady, Hunter, Lauren, Luke, Delaney, Garrett, Krissy (and Wyatt), Brandi, and of course, Kayla the Librarian (love you, Older Cousin!).

To all the teachers and friends who have been so excited, so supportive, and so family-like that my eyes get all misty—Kim, Bob, Kayla, Jay, Kelly, and Katelyn; Janet Ross; Terri Thompson; Matt Langston (you will be in every one of my books); Ali (I will love you forever for being the first person who cried over this book) and Ashley (Three Musketeers for life!); Jennifer, Allie, Sarah Black, Diana, Sarah Kucharski, and Lauren (you guys made college worthwhile); and Stevie (the fancy-insole-add-on to the running-shoe-sale of my life).

To all those people . . . THANK YOU. For tolerating my weird writer behavior, for encouraging the crazy publishing ambitions of a twelve-year-old, for being so, so excited for me when those crazy publishing ambitions came true eleven years later.
Snow Like Ashes
may be the fulfillment of a lifelong goal, but having friends and family as amazing as each and every one of you is an even greater gift.

To properly thank all the people who helped shape this book in one way or another would take a novel in and of itself, so all I can do now is reach out and throw my arms around every single one of you. Yes, you too, who are reading my acknowledgments page and shaking your head in that half-concerned, half-amused way. The reason this book is anything now is because of YOU, magnificent YOU, for picking it up, for giving it a chance, for letting my bizarre world become part of your bizarre world.

You are better than any conduit.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PHOTO BY MICHELLE D. ARGYLE

SARA RAASCH
has known she was destined for bookish things since the age of five, when her friends had a lemonade stand and she tagged along to sell her hand-drawn picture books. Not much has changed since then: her friends still cock concerned eyebrows when she attempts to draw things, and her enthusiasm for the written word still drives her to extreme measures. This is her debut book. It does not feature her hand-drawn pictures. Visit her online at sararaasch.tumblr.com.

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CREDITS

COVER DESIGN BY ERIN FITZSIMMONS

Balzer + Bray is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

SNOW LIKE ASHES
. Copyright © 2014 by Sara Raasch. Map art © 2014 by Jordan Saia. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Raasch, Sara.

Snow like ashes / Sara Raasch. — First edition.

pages cm

Summary: Orphaned Meira, a fierce chakram-wielding warrior from the Kingdom of Winter, must struggle to free her people from the tyranny of an opposing kingdom while also protecting her own destiny.

ISBN 978-0-06-228692-5

[1. Fantasy. 2. Slavery—Fiction. 3. Orphans—Fiction.] I. Title.