Acknowledgments from the Author
I thank God every day I get to do this job, thank you for taking time to read! Thank you so much to 1001 Dark Nights for always being so amazing when it comes to their stories and how they let us authors embark on different journeys every time! I’m so thankful to my readers as well, who keep coming back and who have taken a chance on a slightly different sort of trope that truly brings awareness to a culture and musical phenomenon. To my sensitivity readers—I really appreciate how closely you work with me and how honest you are when it comes to my research and questions. Jill, you’re amazing. I’m so lucky to have you as my assistant. Nicole and Nina, so glad we’re a team. And Rachel’s New Rockin Readers—I freaking love you guys!
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Kendall Ryan
Kennedy Ryan
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Laura Wright
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Table of Contents
Book Description
About Rachel Van Dyken
Also from Rachel Van Dyken
Acknowledgments from the Author
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Discover more Blue Box Press Authors
Foreword
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Nine
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Discover the World of 1001 Dark Nights
Special Thanks
One Thousand and One Dark Nights
Once upon a time, in the future…
I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.
I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and
the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast
library at my father’s home and collected thousands
of volumes of fantastic tales.
I learned all about ancient races and bygone
times. About myths and legends and dreams of all
people through the millennium. And the more I read
the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered
that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually
become part of them.
I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher
and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I
would not be telling you this tale now.
But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off
with bravery.
One afternoon, curious about the myth of the
Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to
see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar
(Persian: شهريار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then
sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written
and I had read that by the time he met Scheherazade,
the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand
women.
Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived
in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged
places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had
never occurred before and that still to this day, I
cannot explain.
Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have
taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can
protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to
protect herself and stay alive.
Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.
And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a
point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.
And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that
he might hear the rest of my dark tale.
As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new
one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before
you now.
Chapter One
Ah-Ri
I stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes are lifeless, and my body feels hollow as my stomach growls. I want food so bad it’s all I can think about. I squeeze my eyes shut again and brace my palms against the sink.
I have no choice.
Being from the States with an American mom and a Korean dad doesn’t actually help me in this situation, even though I’ve always thought of myself as Korean.
The only reason we went to LA was because of my dad’s job, and I only stayed there for six years before coming back home.
It was enough, though.
Enough to make me different. Enough to make people look at me funny during school and ask why my Korean sounded a bit strange.
Enough for people during my idol training to judge me, though I don’t know why. Then again, that’s the job, right? Everyone competing for a few spots at the label and dying to make it—literally.
I don’t look much different from everyone else, yet I somehow feel ostracized. I grip the sink with both hands and stare down at my black fingernails. My perfect skin and the flawless makeup on my face as my jet-black hair falls in easy waves down past my shoulders.
I have a crop top on with a pair of joggers and black Jordans. I’m trying to go for the cute-but-casual look for this audition.