Danielle Jensen - Stolen Songbird

My eyes turned southward, towards the ocean and towards Trianon. Trollus might be forbidden to me, but there was no power on this earth that could make me forget. Or make me give up. I wasn’t powerless – far from it. I had witch magic in my blood strong enough to stop a troll, and that had to mean something. Who knew what I could accomplish with a little practice. And while I was learning, my hunt would begin. I wasn’t certain where I’d find her or what I’d do when I did, but there was one thing I knew for certain.

The witch must die.

I can say without a shadow of a doubt that this novel would never have come into existence without the love and support of my family. Thanks Dad, for reading fantasy novels to me before I was old enough to write a sentence, and then for editing those sentences when I was finally wise enough to write them. Thanks Mom, for being supportive when I made the unexpected and inexplicable decision to become a writer – you’ve been my #1 cheerleader. And thanks Nick, for keeping my ego in check – no one makes fun of my characters quite as well as you.

A very special thanks must go to my tireless agent, Tamar Rydzinski, who plucked me from obscurity based on a logline and two hundred and fifty words. You helped make my dream a reality, and for that I will be eternally grateful.

To my editor Amanda Rutter, thank you for falling in love with my trolls and giving me the amazing experience of seeing my book on the shelves. I’m looking forward to working with you and the rest of the Angry Robot / Strange Chemistry team over the coming years.

My endless gratitude goes to those who have stuck by me during my journey to publication. To Donna, for buying me countless lunches at Earl’s and always listening to my drama; to Lindsay, for your ceaseless enthusiasm and salesmanship; to Carleen and Joel, for kindly feeding and employing the hermit who lived in your basement for five months; and to all my friends who kept dragging me out of my writing cave so that I could still claim to have a life.

And last but by no means least: Spencer, thanks for discovering – much to your own surprise – that you’ve a penchant for somewhat crazy writers who can’t cook. My heart and my stomach would be in a much worse state without you.