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The book began with a folk ballad called ‘The Outlandish Knight,’ a traditional song in which a fae knight seduces and drowns women until the seventh victim reverses the trap and drowns him instead. Gillig grew up between two folk traditions: her grandmother, who immigrated from Mexico, kept books of fairy tales, while the Germanic side of her family brought English folk ballads. She was not interested in retelling the story beat for beat. The ballad handed her a question about the figure at the center of it.
While I didn’t want to do a direct retelling of it, I wanted to explore what knights are, and what they aren’t.
The ballad gave her a question; a visual gave her a world. Gillig has described her process of conception as primarily image-based, and the cathedral that anchors the book arrived before any plot did.
When a book comes to me it’s like a visual thing. I had this visual idea of a gothic cathedral upon a hill and then...where do we go from there?
The folk influences behind the book run deeper than a single song. Gillig traced them at BookCon 2026, describing the two streams she grew up inside and naming the musicians who carried them forward.
She talked about growing up between two folk traditions. Her grandmother, who immigrated from Mexico, kept books of Mexican fairy tales; the Germanic side of her family brought English folk ballads. She called musicians like Kate Rusby, who sets old English ballads to music, ‘a huge inspiration.’ [paraphrased from audio]
That dual inheritance shaped not just the book’s source material but its emotional register: the sense that a story can belong to many tellers at once, and that the version passed down is never the only one.
The summer Gillig had blocked out for drafting was derailed by a serious illness. The physical recovery was difficult, but it was not the worst part of what she lost.
The hardest moment was when I was deeply convinced I wouldn’t be able to write something comparable to what I had done before.
She gave herself permission to stop: comfort shows, physical rest, no manuscript. Then she returned to it.
Before any of that, there was the pressure that came with following a successful duology. The ‘Shepherd King’ books had found a large readership, and Gillig had to actively dismantle the frame that success built around her before she could write freely.
I had to have a proper sit-down with myself about letting go of what expectations could look like.
Her structural approach to the book reflects both her visual imagination and a deliberate resistance to over-planning. She roots herself in place and character before touching plot, and she treats forward visibility as a tool rather than a requirement.
I have to know the place. I have to know the names of the places where they live and the places they go. I have to know the character names and, roughly, their roles, their personalities. [paraphrased from audio]
The gargoyle, a side character whose absurdism became one of the book’s most discussed elements, was not designed to steal scenes. Gillig built him to carry the book’s levity in a deliberately dark story, and she explained at CBS Boston why secondary characters tend to run away with her books.
I hoped that he would just be funny...I think that just happens because the side character doesn’t have to carry the burden of the story arc. Like things don’t have to happen to them in a specific way to keep momentum. And therefore, I can, I have more freedom writing them, and so for the gargoyle that just led to absurdism. [paraphrased from audio]
The decision to write a duology rather than a longer series was not a concession to market convention. Gillig explained it as a direct expression of her own reading habits and patience.
My books kind of feel like one long book with an intermission between. I am also not a patient person...I won’t make you wait forever because I don’t tend to like to wait forever. So it has to do with my own personality in that what I like to consume...Two is just the sweet spot for me.
On release day, Gillig published a note on her Substack that placed this book apart from everything she had written before. She did not name what of herself is in it, but she was precise about how she wanted it to function.
Knight was the book that gave me the most woes and is also the book I’m most proud of. It’s likely my most personal work to date: I’m a bit of ghost in this story. If you look, the signs of me are plain, but you don’t need to see me, and KNIGHT doesn’t exist to help me feel seen. Both of us are just…here. And we’re happy to be here.
The tagline ‘to tell a story is to tell a lie’ was not a late addition to the book’s marketing. Gillig needed it in place from the start because the entire architecture of the story depends on making visible who controls the historical record, and what that control costs the women inside it.
I wanted it to be very clear that history is cherry picked by those who benefit from it...No one blinks an eye about these women having to drown over and over again because to the kingdom, that’s how it’s always been. When history starts to unravel, different stories come forward.
The shroud that Sybil, the book’s protagonist and a diviner serving the goddess Aisling, wears is where that argument becomes physical. Gillig described what it does on two levels at once: to Sybil herself, and to the institution that put it there.
It’s the last thing that they have to shed. It’s to keep her from seeing herself, and it’s to keep her from seeing the world clearly. It’s the wool over her eyes because she only ever sees things through Aisling’s theology. It also keeps other people from seeing her too, because it’s in the cathedral system’s best interest for her to not look human, and to be a symbol rather than a person.
Sybil’s interior arc is about a particular kind of identity trap, one Gillig described in terms that extend well beyond the book’s religious frame. The diviner’s crisis is recognizable to anyone who has learned to measure their worth through a system that also defines the standard.
She’s always been taught that that’s how to matter in the world and how to be good. She has to discover her own sense of self.
Gillig considered writing the six diviners as rivals before deciding that the dynamic would hollow out Sybil’s motivation. The bonds between them are not backdrop: they are the reason Sybil’s departure from the cathedral carries weight.
I wanted to touch on the unique experience of womanhood and sisterhood with the six diviners. I really liked writing about them loving each other, because it felt, especially at the beginning, like it was just them against the world.
That love is also what the cathedral’s theology works hardest against. A diviner who is deeply attached to other people is harder to keep symbolic and easier to read as human.