“I hope you plan to stay for dinner,” he said, voice slightly raised to carry on the breeze. Too late, although she knew full well that she had never had any intention of running. “I would very much like to stay for dinner,” she said. He gestured to the basketat his feet. “Grab these.” And then he turned to walk the short path to his door. She scooped up the basket of vegetables and followed. The inside was even cozier than she would have guessed. A kitchen area, a workbench, a simple bed, and the most beautiful table and benches she had ever seen, constructed in vertical stripes from three interspersed shades of wood. Intricate animal carvings adorned the edges and sides. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, as he took the basket from her and went to the small cooking area. He setafire in a beehive-shaped clay oven whose flue ran along the side of the building to release the smoke outside. She’d seen similar ovens in Tova but never indoors. He must have designed it himself. “The table?” he asked, bringing her thoughts back. “It took me two years to make. The benches almost as long.” “And you cook?” She could not hide her delight. “I had to learn,” hesaid. A smile curved theedge of his mouth. “I did promise you dessert once.” She laughed, pleased he remembered, happy to catch a glimpse of the Serapio she had known. And who had known her. “Perhaps we can start with washing vegetables,” she said, joining him at the cooking station. Shefilled the clay pot with water from a nearby bucket,and together they worked in silence, washing and gently separating the leaves, stems, and roots. After everything was cleaned, Serapio took out a knife and began to chop, first a small pile of stubby purple tubers and next a mound of dark green chiles. “Stew, then?” Xiala asked, her stomach already rumbling. “I’ll put the water on to boil.” “There’s cornmeal in the barrel.” He pointed with his knife. “I don’t grow corn, I trade for it. But there’s plenty if you want to make bread.” “Serapio…” “You smell like the ocean,” he said, voice soft, almost wistful. “Even here, so far away. I missed it.” And the part he did not say, but she heard in his voice. I missed you. Something within her shuddered and broke, a wave of hurt and heartache she had held on to for six long years. “Where did you go?” She had not meant to ask, but to see him here, to understand that for all this time, they could have been together and were not. It was a terrible, shattering realization. Her son had helped ease her pain, but she had been so lonely, so terribly lonely. “Here. Well, not at first. I don’t know where I went at first.” His hand stilled, and he lowered his head. “It took a very long time for me to become a human again.” “Oh.” She had not expected that. “And longer still to remember who I was… and what I had done.” “And the crow god?” He looked up, dark eyes unerringly drawn to hers. “Gone. You severed our connection, Xiala. Permanently.” “I’m sorry.” “ItiswhatIasked you to do.” Heresumed his chopping,therhythmic slap of knifeagainst wood filling the room. She rubbed her hands across her suddenly shivering shoulders. “It was the hardest thing I have ever done,” she admitted.
“And yet you did not hesitate.” “I made a promise.” “So did I, and one I meant to keep. Someday. Only I did not know how. I am sorry I left you alone. It was the last thing I wished to do.” “I was not alone.” He paused, and she could see his own heartache in the fall of his shoulders, the unsteady hand that stuttered over the knife. “Of course.” “It is not what you think. I was not alone because I had a son.” He nodded, but she could tell he didn’t understand. “Our son,” she said gently. And now he stilled. “He looks just like you, or so Iktan insists. Xe is the only one who knows Akona’s true parentage, but othersarelikely to figureit outsoon enough.Teek arelooseaboutsuch things, but…” There was no way to say it butas thetruth. “Heseems to havean affinity for crows.” “His name is Akona?” “A Teek name. It means black-winged.” Hesmiled. “You named our son black-winged,and you don’t think anyone will notice?” “He was born with a thatch of the blackest hair. Your hair. I could always say it was the hair.” She shook her head, smile rueful. “Would you like to meet him? I mean, not now, but…” “Someday.” She nodded. “Yes. Someday.” “I would like that.” He scraped all the vegetables into the pot of boiling water. And stood there looking lost. “What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed. “I would very much like to touch you.” “Oh.” She cameto stand before him. He was shaking, sherealized,as helifted a hand and moved it toward her face. She took his hand and pressed his palm against her cheek. Only when his fingers cupped the curve of her jaw did she realize she was crying. “The stew will take a while to cook,” he said softly. “Oh,” she said, smiling despite the tears. “Perhaps, while we wait, I can tell you a story. I know a great one, about a crow and a mermaid.” “How does it end?” “However we want,” she said, voice careful. “Pirates?” he asked, hopeful. Xiala laughed. “You want there to be pirates?” “I have always wanted to capture a ship.” “Then there will be pirates. Anything else?” “Stars?” “So many stars, Serapio. A night’s sky full of stars,and the darkness between them, too.” He took her in his arms and pressed his lips against her hair. “I very much like the way you tell a story, Xiala of the Teek.” “Then listen well, Serapio. This is only the beginning.”
Acknowledgments MirroredHeavens isthe culmination ofa dream. Foraslong asI can rememberI havewanted to read (and then write) an epic fantasy inspired by the cultures of the Pre-Columbian Americas. A story with both grandeur and grit, love and loss, that celebrated the unique beauty of these culturesand decolonized genderand lovein away that felt trueto me. I hope I have donethat, both formyselfand for you,thereader.I didmy best.Along theway Ifell in lovewith my sometimes broken butalways fighting characters, manywho embody elements of my own struggles writ large but who became their own people with their own particular journeys.It has been challenging, but it iseverything Ieverwanted asan artistand asa brown kid reading science fiction and fantasy. I did not get here alone. Thanks first and foremost to my readers. Each and every one of you who picked up Black Sun and gave it a chance, who continued on to Fevered Star, who found yourself holding that gorgeous coverforMirrored Heavens in your handsand reading the pages within. Your support has made this trilogy a reality, and I will be forever grateful. Thank you to TurquoiseApocalypse who read theearliest drafts of this behemoth: Brian Hinson, Rae Oestreich, Lauren Teffeau, Ian Tregillis, and Sarena Ulibarri. Thanks also to AnnaLiza Bella. Thanks to all the Bookstagrammersand Booktokers who hosted readalongs and made videosand celebrated thefirst two books with me. Thanks to my Serapio baesand Xiala girlies, my Iktan ride or dies, my Naranpastans. Thanks to thereviewers,even the bad ones, because at least you’re reading. Thanks to the team at Saga Press: Amanda Mulholland, Lauren Gomez, Zoe Kaplan, Chloe Gray, Erika Genova, Jéla Lewter, Caroline Tew, Savannah Breckenridge, and Christine Calella. Special thanks to the copyeditors and cold readers and anyone who ever caught a typo. It was a Herculean undertaking, and I appreciate you! Thanks to the incredible cover artist for all three books, John Picacio. Stunning “soul portrait” art every time, but on this one you outdid yourself. Thanks to my fantasy map maker Robert Lazzaretti. Still the coolest job ever. Thank you to my agent Sara Megibow. I wouldn’t be here having this much fun without you. And thank you to my friend and editor extraordinaire, Joe Monti, who knows all too well that no good deed goes unpunished, but a great deed is punished twice. I hope we did something great. Whatever may come, it was worth it. And lastly, thanks to my husband, Michael,and my daughter, Maya. You inspire meand keep me going through all the lows and celebrate the highs. You are my reason. Period. I couldn’t do this without you and wouldn’t want to.
More from this Series Black Sun Fevered Star Book 2 More from the Author Tread of Angels The Mythic Dream Storm of Locusts Trail of Lightning
About the Author REBECCA ROANHORSEis the New York Times bestselling author of The Sixth World series and the Between Earth and Sky trilogy. She has won multiple awards for her fiction, including the Nebula, Hugo,and LocusAwards. She hasalsowritten for Marveland Lucasfilm,and for hit TV series, including A Murder at the End of the World and Echo. She lives in New Mexico with her family. SagaPress.com SimonandSchuster.com www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Rebecca-Roanhorse @SagaPressBooks
ALSO BY REBECCA ROANHORSE BETWEEN EARTH AND SKY Black Sun Fevered Star Mirrored Heavens THE SIXTH WORLD Trail of Lightning Storm of Locusts Star Wars: Resistance Reborn Race to the Sun Tread of Angels
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www.SimonandSchuster.com This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2024 by Rebecca Roanhorse All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Saga Press Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020. First Saga Press hardcover edition June 2024 SAGA PRESS and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, LLC Simon & Schuster: Celebrating 100 Years of Publishing in 2024 For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected]. The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com. Interior design by Erika R. Genova Jacket design by Jae Song Jacket illustration by John Picacio Author photograph by Stephen Land Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data ISBN 978-1-5344-3770-8 ISBN 978-1-5344-3772-2 (ebook)