Format: Hardcover, 368 pages
Release Date: September 25, 2018
Publisher: Razorbill
Source: Library
Genre: Young Adult / Dark Fantasy
A young alchemist turns to dark magic when a deadly plague sweeps through her homeland in this epic fantasy from New York Times bestselling author Beth Revis.
Give the Dark My Love is the first part of a two part duology called Give the Dark My Love. Nedra Brysstain lives in the Northern territories of Lunar Island, a colony of the Allyrian Empire. She receives a scholarship to attend Yugen Academy, a prestigious
school that trains students in the science of medicinal alchemy. Most of
the other students look down on the scholarship student, except for
Greggori "Grey" Astor who has no destire to get entangled in politics.
While Nedra's alchemy skills grow, and her time volunteering at the Quarantine Hospital ramps up, her main concern is the dreaded Wasting Death that seems to be slowly spreading throughout her island. The story behind the plague and those it affects the most, clearly brings a whole new level of political shenanigans as well as selective outrage blaming the unwashing masses for the spread of the disease. As Nedra grows darker and darker, can she survive what is coming? Will she lose everything, including the only person who seems to be on her side?
It is absolutely fair to say that Nedra was a benevolent character at the beginning, but in the end, she was more like an anti-hero. Touching on romance, grief, and inequality, Give the Dark My Love
is a gorgeous, suspenseful look at a young woman’s desperate attempt to
help those in need. As always, the author has brought the emotion, and Nedra
is as vulnerable and compassionate as she is fierce and powerful. This book isn't at all perfect which is why I dropped my rating to 3 1/2. There is literally no world building. The pacing of the story is rapid fire quick, and it is a very, very dark story with an ending that will leave you shocked to your core. The descriptions are very detailed, there are a lot of dead bodies, reawakened dead bodies and, well, necromancy.
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PROLOGUE
The warship carried twenty good men and two cannons.
“Bit of an overkill, isn’t it?” Captain Pasker said. The sun was to his back, casting a long, imposing shadow over the deck.
Captain
Pasker was from the mainland; his ship had accompanied the Emperor on
the short voyage across the Azure Sea to the small province of Lunar
Island. Pasker had been in three wars already, “skirmishes,” he called
them, bloody little inconveniences that were necessary to remind the
people of the might of the Emperor.
The sailor beside him was a local boy, a new conscript. He’d been raised with the old legends.
He wasn’t sure that one warship was enough.
The
sleek, red-lacquered vessel cut through the bay toward a small island
that bore only one building. A hospital, its brick façade illuminated by
the rising sun, the clockface built into the tower so bright the
captain could not look at it directly.
“Get
the horn,” Captain Pasker told the boy. The sailor went running. By the
time he returned with the large vocal horn, the warship was just a few
meters away from the stone steps that disappeared into the blue-green
waters of the bay. He tried to count them—fifty or so, leading up to a
stone plaza and the massive doors of the hospital.
The
captain raised the horn to his lips. “By order of Emperor Auguste, you
must surrender your person for trial.” His voice boomed up the steps,
and he was certain that those who lurked inside the large brick building
had heard.
The doors, however, did not open.
“This
is your last chance,” Captain Pasker shouted through the horn. “You are
hereby ordered by the Emperor’s Guard to present yourself for arrest on
the grounds of treason.”
“And trespassing,” the first mate added.
Captain Pasker set the vocal horn down. “Treason’s quite enough. Can’t hang the girl twice.”
They waited.
“All right, boys, get ready.”
The sailors used oars to bring the warship closer to the steps, then lashed it portside to the posts.
“I’ll
take five,” the captain said, one foot on the gangway. The first mate
selected five additional sailors to accompany him, and they followed his
long strides onto the small island, swords at their hips and
muzzle-loaded smoothbore muskets in their hands.
“Blasted sun gets in the way,” Captain Pasker grumbled as he looked back at the ship. “Try the horn once more,” he called.
The
first mate repeated the captain’s message, the words amplified and
echoing over the calm waters of the bay. The captain and his five were
already halfway up the stairs when the heavy door of the hospital
creaked open.
A girl stepped into the light.
She
was average in height and build, her hair black and neatly braided,
shining in the sun as if it were still damp after being washed. Her deep
olive skin was typical of people from Lunar Island. She wore alchemist
robes that seemed a touch too big for her; likely she’d stolen the
clothing from the hospital closets. The only remarkable thing about her
was that she was missing her left arm from a point just above where her
elbow should have been, but even that detail wasn’t too strange. Many on
Lunar Island had lost a limb or two from the plague.
Still,
she was young enough to be Captain Pasker’s daughter. Seventeen,
eighteen maybe. He could feel the doubt welling in his men, the
hesitation. The captain gazed up the long stone stairs toward her.
“We’re here to arrest you,” Captain Pasker called. “Best come quiet now.”
The girl smiled.
“Girl,” Captain Pasker said in a warning tone, as if even her gender was cause for offense.
The doors behind her opened wider.
The
people who poured out behind the girl seemed unarmed. Most wore
hospital dressing gowns; a few wore peasants’ clothing. All of them
showed some deformity of the plague—withered and blackened hands or
feet, an inky stain rising up their necks, under their skin.
And they were quiet.
They did not speak or even look to the girl as they descended the stairs as if by pre-agreed formation. They showed no fear.
They showed no emotion at all.
Captain Pasker’s stomach churned.
The rifles in his men’s hands shook.
“Steady,”
Captain Pasker warned, but it did no good. One of the sailors popped
off a shot, the bullet aimed true despite the man’s nerves. A woman in
the front, about twenty steps away, staggered, her shoulder snapping
back, the force of the blow causing her to stumble and fall on the
steps. Her head smashed against the stone, an audible crack of her skull
followed by the crunching sound of broken teeth.
The others around her kept moving, completely ignoring her body broken on the steps.
And then she stood back up.
The
woman showed no pain. She opened her mouth and let the splintered teeth
clatter to the ground. She ignored the skin that dangled over her
broken skull. No blood poured from her wounds.
She just kept walking.
She was ten steps away now. Five.
“Fire!” Captain Pasker screamed. “Fire! Fire!”
The
guns blossomed in flame and smoke around him as his men fired shot
after shot. Many in the crowd staggered, but none cried out.
None fell.
The dead could not die.
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