#Review - The Faraway Inn by Sarah Beth Durst #YA #Contemporary #Fantasy

Series: Standalone
Format: 372 pages, Paperback

Release Date: March 31, 2026
Publisher: Delacorte
Source: Publisher
Genre: YA, Contemporary, Fantasy

After a devastating heartbreak, a teen girl decides to spend her summer helping her eccentric great aunt manage her quaint Vermont inn--but this fixer-upper is hiding a magical secret--in this cozy and irresistible new fantasy from the New York Times bestselling author of The Spellshop.

Sixteen-year-old Calisa is desperate for a change of scenery after her lying ex ruins her perfect Brooklyn summer. When her parents suggest she head to rural Vermont to help her great-aunt run her cozy bed-and-breakfast for a few months, she jumps at the chance.

But when Calisa arrives at the B&B, she's shocked to find a rundown inn with only a handful of guests. And to make matters worse, upon meeting with her great-aunt it quickly becomes clear that Calisa was not invited. Auntie Zee is determined to keep anyone from messing with her beloved inn…even if it is clear she needs the help.

To earn her keep, Calisa sets to work fixing up the inn, enlisting extra help from the groundskeeper's (handsome) son. But the longer she stays, the more it becomes evident that there is something strange about the B&B—and its residents. Something almost…otherworldly.

The inn is keeping a magical secret—but to protect the place she's come to love, Calisa must unravel the truth of it, and her aunt, before it's too late.

The Faraway Inn by Sarah Beth Durst is a delightful, cozy YA fantasy that perfectly captures the healing power of a summer spent fixing up a quirky inn while uncovering family secrets and a touch of magic. Sixteen-year-old Calisa flees her Brooklyn life after a devastating breakup with her cheating ex-boyfriend, who shatters her plans for the perfect summer before senior year. Eager for escape, she heads to rural Vermont to help her eccentric great-aunt Zee run the Faraway Inn, a bed-and-breakfast she vaguely remembers from childhood as cozy and welcoming. 

Upon arrival, reality hits hard: the inn is a rundown fixer-upper with a sagging porch, overgrown gardens, a dusty library, and very few guests. Grumpy Auntie Zee seems less than thrilled to have her there and actively resists any changes or help. Undeterred, Calisa rolls up her sleeves, enlists the aid of the charming groundskeeper’s son, Jack (who brings a sweet romantic spark), and sets about restoring the place with determination and Brooklyn grit. As renovations progress, strange occurrences pile up—quirky guests with odd behaviors, inexplicable events, and hints that the inn holds deeper, magical secrets. 

Calisa must unravel the truth to protect the place she’s grown to love, all while learning to open her heart again and discovering her own connections to the inn’s hidden world. The story blends heartfelt coming-of-age elements with light fantasy, where doors might lead to more than just rooms, and family legacies come with whimsical surprises. The Vermont setting feels alive and inviting despite its initial shabbiness—think tangled vines, creaky floors, and a library begging for attention. 

The atmosphere is frosted with joy, making readers want to check in and never leave. Calisa is a relatable, resilient protagonist whose heartbreak feels authentic without overwhelming the tone. Her growth from jaded teen to someone embracing change and magic is satisfying and gentle. Auntie Zee starts as a wonderfully grumpy, antagonistic figure but reveals layers of eccentricity and protectiveness that make her endearing. 

Supporting cast members, including the handsome groundskeeper’s son and the inn’s eclectic guests, add charm, humor, and emotional depth without cluttering the narrative. The romance is a light, endearing dash of sweetness—kisses and budding connection rather than anything intense—pairing perfectly with the cozy vibe. Themes of healing from betrayal, found (or rediscovered) family, and the joy of restoration resonate strongly.

Chapter One

There were a lot of trees.

Calisa stood by the mailbox with her backpack and her suitcase and told herself very firmly that this was exactly what she needed.

Ahead of her was a forest, hemming in a one-­lane road. Pine trees clustered together, the expanse of evergreens only broken by the occasional white-­barked tree that stood out like a candle against the dark green. Overhead, the sky was a matte white, clouds blotting out the sun, which matched her mood—­cloudy with a chance of rain.

“This is going to be an amazing summer,” she said, as if saying the words out loud would act as some kind of spell to make them come true.

She just hadn’t pictured what it would feel like to actually be here, by herself, in the middle of a truly excessive number of trees, away from everyone she knew and everything familiar. She’d been too focused on not being there.

A few weeks ago, she’d never have considered coming to Vermont by herself for two entire months, but after her world fell apart, she’d pounced on the invitation. She’d wanted to spend her summer anywhere but Brooklyn—­anywhere but where Ethan, the boy who’d yanked her heart out of her chest and then stomped on it with the enthusiasm of a four-­year-­old in tap shoes, was going to be. It was essential self-­care.

In retrospect, Calisa supposed she should have had the Uber driver take her all the way to her great-­aunt’s doorstep instead of just the mailbox, but after the hours on the train and then in the car, she’d wanted to walk.

Also, the driver wouldn’t stop talking about fly-­fishing. So, here she was.

It will be fine. She could tell from the clouds it wasn’t going to rain until later. And if it did, she’d packed an umbrella, though she wasn’t sure exactly where.

Everything is going to be fine.

Shouldering her backpack, Calisa hauled her suitcase down the road. On either side, the trees loomed over her. It smelled like pine and wet earth and not at all like the mix of hot gyro meat, bus fumes, coffee, and overripe trash that she associated with the street outside her family’s apartment in Park Slope. Above, birds cawed to one another with sharp, biting cries that made her feel like an intruder. Listening, she thought she heard one softer trill, a cascading chirp that was more friendly. Squirrels leaped from branch to branch, causing the forest to rustle. She wondered if Vermont had wolves. Or bears. Probably not. Or maybe yes? This wasn’t the city or even suburbia. Bears weren’t impossible. On the plus side, being attacked by a bear would make a unique party story. Or an excellent college application essay. She hadn’t started writing hers yet. On the minus side, it would not be great to be mauled.

Close beside her, the trees rustled again, and Calisa jumped. She spotted a squirrel racing up the trunk of a pine tree. Just a squirrel. Not a bear. Only my overactive imagination.

In Google Maps, it hadn’t looked that far from the main road to the bed-­and-­breakfast. She pulled out her phone. No signal. She shoved it back into her pocket and kept walking. Ahead, the sky was darkening as gray clouds seeped into the white.

The road twisted, and in front of her, on the left side, was a wooden sign, half devoured by ivy, with letters gouged into it that read:

THE FARAWAY INN

She exhaled and smiled.

“See,” she said to the trees. “Almost there.” She’d thought it was a melodramatic name—Vermont wasn’t that far from Brooklyn—­but now that she was here in a random, possibly bear—infested forest, she decided it fit. She felt extremely far away from everything, which was exactly what she wanted.

Cheered, Calisa walked faster—­and it began to rain.

At first it was just a few drops, one on her cheek, one on her head, and a few spattering on the road around her, and then it increased to a drizzle. She shivered as she walked, wishing she had worn something warmer than her favorite Brooklyn Beans T-shirt (teal with a picture of a coffee cup and the words “Brew can do it!”) and a pair of jean shorts. Mom-­Kate had insisted she pack a jacket, even though it was summer, but it was shoved deep somewhere, probably with the umbrella. She didn’t want to stop to dig either of them out and risk drenching everything else in her suitcase in the process. Better to just keep walking.

A few minutes and many raindrops later, the road rose up a hill and then, as it crested, widened to reveal a hollow between slopes thick with pine trees. Behind it was a panorama of the mountains, crowned in gray clouds.

And in the center of the hollow was her great-­aunt’s inn.

“Huh,” she said out loud.

Calisa hadn’t been here in years, not since she was five or six, and it did not match her memory. She thought she’d remembered a storybook inn, framed in roses and lilacs, with a burbling brook next to or behind it. Had she imagined all of that? She’d been young enough that it was one of those fuzzy kinds of memories that felt jumbled. But she’d still been expecting cute.

This . . .

It was not cute.

Well, she supposed it could have been charming once, but if so, it had been many, many years ago. Blinking through the droplets on her eyelashes, Calisa looked at the run-­down inn and wondered what had happened. Auntie Zee’s B&B was gray, drab, and . . . the kindest description she could think of was “vintage distressed.” It reminded her of a squashed wedding cake. Three stories tall, it had faded and peeling paint that could have been white with ivory trim at one time but was now gray with dirtier gray. The roof was tilted, lopsided, and the shutters hung crooked on either side of the windows. One window on the second floor was boarded up with plywood. And the wraparound porch was so overrun with vines that half of it was buried beneath greenery.

It was all tremendously overgrown. The flower gardens, which Mom-­Kate and Mom-­Elise had gushed about while Calisa was packing—­“Daffodils and lilacs and roses and lilies everywhere!” they’d said—­were a mess. Okay, that was putting it mildly. Brambles and ivy from the forest sprawled across the flower beds as if they were trying to devour them. She couldn’t even see the supposed burbling brook, if there still was one.

It looked as if the forest was on the verge of swallowing the inn whole.

To be fair, her moms had said Auntie Zee was having trouble keeping up the place. It was, in fact, the reason that Mom-­Kate had the idea to send Calisa here. She could help Auntie Zee and recover from her heartbreak at the same time. “Two birds with one stone,” Mom-­Kate had chirped cheerfully. But Calisa didn’t think her mother had any idea how run-­down it really was. If it wasn’t for a few lights inside, she’d have thought it was abandoned.

Calisa stood, staring into the hollow at the shabby bed-­and-­breakfast while rain slithered down her shirt and seeped into her sneakers. Her socks were already soaked, and her hair dripped on her shoulders. It wasn’t the arrival moment she’d pictured.

At least Auntie Zee will be happy I’m here. There was clearly a lot of work to do. She wasn’t afraid of hard work. Just afraid of being pathetic. Far better to be the unpaid, overworked help than the heartbroken girl everyone felt sorry for. She’d cheerfully be Cinderella so long as it meant she didn’t have to dance with any kind of prince.

Her original plan for the summer hadn’t involved any of this. Before Ethan upended everything, she’d had it all nicely mapped out: she’d secured a job at a vintage boutique called Buttons and Bell-­Bottoms, which would have been fantastic. She’d work there for a few hours every afternoon, primarily playing on her phone and trying on the most random outfits she could assemble. After work, she’d meet up with her friends. She, Maddy, and Crystal had set themselves a challenge to visit every single coffee shop in Brooklyn before the end of August. Every evening, she was going to meet Ethan at the bodega where he’d be working, downstairs from her apartment. They’d have dinner (sometimes with his family, sometimes with hers, sometimes just the two of them), watch movies, and cuddle, or go out and drop in on one of Ethan’s friends’ parties. It would have been a very, very different summer than this.

Now . . . even if she spent the entire summer on nonstop yardwork and housework and whatever else until she had blisters and calluses on both hands, it was still a better option than having to see Ethan every day when she walked past the bodega and feeling as if she were being ripped to shreds from the inside out all over again.

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#Review - The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst #Fantasy #Romance

Series: Standalone
Format: Hardcover, 384 pages
Release Date: July 9, 2024
Publisher: Bramble
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Romance

Kiela has always had trouble dealing with people. Thankfully, as a librarian at the Great Library of Alyssium, she and her assistant, Caz—a magically sentient spider plant—have spent the last decade sequestered among the empire’s most precious spellbooks, preserving their magic for the city’s elite.

When a revolution begins and the library goes up in flames, she and Caz flee with all the spellbooks they can carry and head to a remote island Kiela never thought she’d see again: her childhood home. Taking refuge there, Kiela discovers, much to her dismay, a nosy—and very handsome—neighbor who can’t take a hint and keeps showing up day after day to make sure she’s fed and to help fix up her new home.

In need of income, Kiela identifies something that even the bakery in town doesn’t have: jam. With the help of an old recipe book her parents left her and a bit of illegal magic, her cottage garden is soon covered in ripe berries.

But magic can do more than make life a little sweeter, so Kiela risks the consequences of using unsanctioned spells and opens the island’s first-ever and much needed secret spellshop.

Sarah Beth Durst's The Spellshop is like a Hallmark rom-com filled with mythical creatures. This cottagecore fantasy follows an unexpected journey through the low-stakes market of illegal spell-selling and the high-risk business of starting over. This is the authors first foray into romantasy. As a librarian, Kiela Orobidan had become increasingly withdrawn from social contact, especially after her parents died. 

Thankfully, as a librarian at the Great Library of Alyssium, she and her assistant, Caz—a magically sentient spider plant—have spent the last decade sequestered among the empire’s most precious spellbooks, preserving their magic for the city’s elite. When a revolution begins and the library goes up in flames, she and Caz flee with all the spellbooks they can carry and head to a remote island Kiela never thought she’d see again: her childhood home of Caltrey, where she was born and still owns the cottage she inherited from her deceased parents.

Taking refuge there, Kiela discovers, much to her dismay, a nosy—and very handsome—neighbor, Larran Maver, who can’t take a hint and keeps showing up day after day to make sure she’s fed and to help fix up her new home. In need of income, Kiela identifies something that even the bakery in town doesn’t have: jam. With the help of an old recipe book her parents left her and a bit of illegal magic, her cottage garden is soon covered in ripe berries. 

But magic can do more than make life a little sweeter, so Kiela risks the consequences of using unsanctioned spells and opens the island’s first-ever and much needed secret spellshop. Unsanctioned use of this knowledge is strictly forbidden and severely punished, however, and the danger of discovery turns pressing when another woman (Radane) arrives on the island, claiming to be an imperial investigator. But who is she really?

To survive in very different conditions she realizes that she must learn to be ‘a person who takes risks’, and these include trusting others, as well as making use of the magic spells contained in the books she has saved which leads to the creation of Meep, a cactus like character who is gender confused. It helps when she begins to have a small group of friends who seem not only protective of her, but eventually form a sort of coven. 

*Thoughts* This was more entertaining than I realized until I started reading. It's definitely on the side of being a rom-com or cozy romance. This is a magical world in which fantastic creatures abound. Kiela has blue skin and blue hair, Caz is a sentient spider plant; mermaids and merhorses swim in the seas; centaurs and four-armed harpists frequent the village bakery, whose owner has antlers and a body covered in soft downy fur; and in the forest cloud bears drift around. The relationship between Kiela and Larran strengthens to the point where Kiela fights to protect the merhorses which have been raised by Larran since he was a child. Definitely recommended.

CHAPTER ONE


Kiela never thought the flames would reach the library. She was dimly aware that most of the other librarians had fled weeks ago, when the revolutionaries took the palace and defenestrated the emperor in a rather dramatic display. But surely they wouldn’t touch the library. After all, there were books here. Highly flammable, irreplaceable books.

The Great Library of Alyssium, with its soaring spires, stained-glass windows, and labyrinthine bookshelves, was the jewel of the Crescent Islands Empire. Its hallowed stacks were filled with centuries-old treatises, histories, studies, and (most importantly, in Kiela’s opinion) spellbooks. Only the elite, the crème de la crème of the scholars, were allowed to even view the spellbooks, as only the rarefied few were permitted, by imperial law, to use magic.

She was responsible for the spellbooks on the third floor, east wing. For the past eleven years, she’d worked, slept, ate, and lived between the shelves, which perhaps explained why, when she first smelled smoke, she thought she’d simply left toast on the cookplate.

Just to be on the safe side, earlier in the week, Kiela and her assistant Caz had begun securing some of her favorite tomes in crates and stowing them on one of the library boats, though she’d never truly believed evacuation would be necessary. Cocooned within the stacks, far away from any whiff of politics or violence, it was a pleasant game: if she were stranded on a deserted island, which books would she most want to have with her? Certainly The Grimoire on Plantwork, compiled in the year 357 by scholars Messembe and Cannin, as well as The Manipulation of Weather Patterns, a Study of the Effects of Spellwork on the Breeding Habits of Eastern Puffins, which was a fascinating and groundbreaking work that—

Caz swung by his leaves into the aisle where she sat, cross-legged, in front of a pile of books. A spider plant, he was roughly the size of a farm dog but comprised entirely of greenery, with a knot of roots holding soil at his core. He was the smartest assistant she’d ever had, though also, perhaps not coincidentally, the most anxiety-prone. “We’re going to die,” he informed her, his leaves rustling so badly that it was challenging to pluck out the words.

“The fighting won’t come here,” Kiela said in the soothing voice she’d perfected after years of working in such a sacred space. She added another book to the pack-in-the-fifth-crate pile, then reconsidered and shifted it to the pack-only-if-it-fits pile.

He shook his leaves at her. “The fighting is already here. They’ve battered down the front door and are ransacking Kinney Hall.”

“Goodness!”

The door to Kinney Hall was a monstrosity built of brass and secured with bolts made of the sturdy lumber used for the ribs of ship hulls. She tried to calculate the amount of force required to batter down a thirty-foot door, then blinked. “Ransacking, did you say?”

She’d expected the rebels to secure the library and its treasures—that was only sensible—but ransacking? These were freedom fighters, not feral animals. She wasn’t even opposed to their goals. On Caz’s recommendation, she’d read a few of their pamphlets in the early days of the revolution, and the call for elections and the sharing of knowledge seemed quite appealing …

“The North Reading Room is on fire,” Caz said. “They lit the tapestries first, and it spread to the scrolls.”

She felt sick. All those old manuscripts!

He tugged on her sleeve with a leaf. “Come on, Kiela, we have to leave.”

Leave? Now? But she hadn’t finished—

“If you make a leave-leaf joke,” Caz warned, “I’m going without you.”

She got to her feet. The fifth crate was only half-filled. Kiela dumped an armload of books into it without even checking what the titles were—“Enough, Kiela!” Caz said as she went for a second armload—and then maneuvered it toward the lift. On wheels, it scooted between the shelves, and she felt a lurch in her stomach as they passed all the full shelves of beautiful, wonderful books. She snagged a few more favorites as they hurried past.

Reaching the lift, she shoved the wheeled crate inside and yanked down the gate. Caz pushed the button with a leaf and turned the crank. The lift lurched and then descended.

As they traveled between the floors, Kiela heard the sound of metal clashing on metal, and her stomach flopped. She didn’t know firsthand what a battle sounded like, but she did know what a library was supposed to sound like, and all of this was terribly, horribly wrong. Caz crept closer to her, and she wished the lift would go faster.

What if it stopped on one of the floors with fighting?

What if it stopped altogether?

She pushed the sublevel button again and again, as if that would encourage it. The lift continued to inch downward with clanks and squeaks and whirrs. The stench of smoke grew stronger. Looking out through the grated gate, she saw haze shrouding the stacks.

“We should have taken the stairs,” Caz said.

“We’d have never been able to carry the books,” Kiela said.

“We won’t save any books if we’re dead.” He shook so hard that several of his leaves detached and floated to the floor. “Gah, I’m shedding!”

“You need to think about something else,” she said. “Oak trees are struck by lightning more often than any other tree. Apples can float because they are twenty-five percent air. You can count the number of cricket chirps per second to calculate the outside temperature.”

“Unless the outside is on fire,” Caz said. “How fast do they chirp if it’s all on fire?”

The lift lurched as it reached the lowest level. Kiela yanked the gate open while Caz maneuvered the crate with his tendrils. Shoving the crate outside, they exited the elevator.

This far down, water-level, she couldn’t hear the clang of metal or smell the stench of smoke. It was overwhelmed by the ripe fish odor of the canal that flowed beneath the library. All of the city of Alyssium was riddled with canals. It was part of what made it one of the world’s most beautiful cities, the jewel of the empire. Kiela remembered when she’d first arrived, very young, before her parents died, and how impressed she’d been by the sparkling canals, the lacelike white bridges, the spires, and the flowers that blossomed on every balcony, draped from every window, and framed every door. She wondered how much of the city she remembered was left.

Hurrying through the narrow stone passageway with the wheeled crate, she listened for any other movement. But all she heard was the slosh of water against stone and the drip-drip-drip of a leak somewhere nearby. Ahead were the boats.

Anchored in slips beneath the library, the boats were used to transport books to and from select patrons on nearby islands. Each had silver sails, tied tight around its boom, and a black-cherry hull wide enough to transport multiple crates of books but sleek enough to be sailed by a single librarian. She herself had used one just last winter to deliver a full set of scholar Cypavia’s Examinations of the Function of Forest Spirits in Fact and Fiction to a bedridden emeritus sorcerer. He’d had his housekeeper offer her a cup of tea as thanks, but she’d declined, wanting to hurry back to the comfort of her stacks. At least those books are safe. That was only a slight consolation, though, compared to the wealth of knowledge in peril above her.

She’d already filled her boat with the first four crates of books, secured beneath a tarp. Maneuvering the half-filled fifth crate onto the boat, she strapped it in. There was room for at least three more crates, but there wasn’t time to fetch them. She wished she’d sorted books faster. Or been less picky. She wished she’d packed more provisions. She’d stowed a few jugs of water, as well as jars of preserved peaches, a bag of dried beans, and a sack of pecans. For Caz, she had a tub of fresh soil that he could replenish himself in, and she’d also hidden a couple changes of clothes for herself, as well as a few blank notebooks just in case. But she hadn’t emptied her cubicle in the library of her personal items. She thought wistfully of all she’d left—her old journals, her best quill set, a wooden carving in the shape of a mermaid that her parents had given her when she was a child. But Caz was right: better to save themselves. And the books.

We’ll come back when it’s safe, she thought. This is just temporary.

Climbing into the boat, Kiela untied the line and pushed off. She pulled out the pole for navigating the watery tunnels. The sails were wrapped up around the boom. They’d stay down until they reached the open water.

She wasn’t technically supposed to take the boat. Or the books. Or Caz. But there had been no one left to ask, and she reassured herself that they’d thank her later, when she returned. It wasn’t theft. It was her job: taking care of the collection. I’m just … broadening the definition.

She poled through the tunnels until they flowed out into the open canals of the city.

“Well, this is absolutely horrible,” Caz said.

Kiela had to agree.

The stars were blotted out by the smoke that rose from the bridges and spires. The flames cast everything in a ghoulish light, and the sour taste of the smoke coated the back of her throat. She felt it invading her lungs with each breath. Her sky-blue skin looked sickly in the unnatural light, and her dark blue hair soaked up the scent of smoke. Down on the canals, Kiela and Caz were free from the worst of it, but they weren’t free from the sights and sounds of death.

Later, she’d block out most of that horrible night: the screams, the corpses in the canals, the fear that choked her worse than the smoke. The trip through the canals felt endless, and the sounds traveled across the water even as they broke into the open sea.

With Caz’s help, Kiela raised the silver sails once the water was too deep for the pole. She’d learned how to sail as a small child and had delivered enough books scattered over the years to stay in practice, so she thankfully didn’t have to think to perform the tasks. Her hands remembered what to do, how to catch the wind in the canvas, how to speed away, away, away.

Behind them, the great city burned, with its people (both good and bad) and its history (both good and bad) and its books and its flowers. And she knew she wasn’t coming back.

* * *

As the sun rose over the sea, all pink and yellow and hopeful, Kiela resolved to look forward, not backward. There was no one in Alyssium who’d miss her—which was a depressing thought in and of itself. Really, no one?

Absorbed in her work, she hadn’t left the library for anything but the occasional book delivery in … Had it been years? Yes, years. After she’d finished school, she’d simply moved directly into a cubicle sandwiched between the stacks. It had been simpler that way. She hadn’t had to waste any time traveling to and from her work.

She had no family in the city, and she’d lost track of her classmates—they’d drifted off into their lives, and she’d fallen into the routine of hers. All her meals were delivered, prepared fresh at any hour. Scholars often kept odd hours, and therefore so did librarians. She merely had to send a request down the chute, and everything would arrive via lift in a timely manner. No interaction with anyone required. She’d considered it the perfect system.

The other librarians … They had their own work on other floors and in other wings. Kiela never liked to disturb anyone, and she had gently—so gently that she hadn’t even realized she was doing it—discouraged others from disturbing hers. As the sailboat bounced over the waves, she realized she hadn’t even spoken to another soul besides Caz in three weeks. The last person she’d talked to was a janitor whom she’d shooed away for stirring up dust near some particularly fragile manuscripts.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like people. It was only that she liked books more. They didn’t fuss or judge or mock or reject. They invited you in, fluffed up the pillows on the couch, offered you tea and toast, and shared their hearts with no expectation that you’d do anything more than absorb what they had to give.

All of which was very lovely, but it left her in a bit of a quandary: where to go, now that her old life had quite literally burned down. “Caz…” she began.

“Mmm,” he said, muffled.

She glanced across the boat to see he’d wedged himself between two of the crates and had wound his leaves tight around his root ball. “Caz, what are you doing?”

“Fish eat plants,” he said.

“Some fish, yes.” She wasn’t overly familiar with the dietary preferences of fish. She knew there were fish who liked kelp. She supposed they ate plankton too. Also, insects? “Some fish eat other fish.”

“Who eat plants.”

“I suppose so.”

“Everything eats plants,” Caz said. “But barely anything eats books. That’s why I’m positioning myself between the crates. No one will think of looking for a fresh, tasty morsel of green next to so many dead trees. So I am just going to stay here, with the books, until we get to wherever we’re going, which I hope won’t have fish, sheep, cows, or goats.” He shuddered at the word “goats,” and Kiela wondered if he’d had a bad experience with a goat or had just read about them. Most likely the latter. Livestock wasn’t permitted in the Great Library, for obvious reasons.

“That is what I wanted to talk to you about,” Kiela said. “We need a destination.”

“You … didn’t plan that out?”

“I didn’t think we’d really have to leave,” she admitted. “Or I thought, if we did, it would be just for a few hours or days. A week at most.” She’d thought they could rent a slip in a harbor at one of the nearby islands, perhaps Varsun or Iva, and stay for a couple days at one of the charming inns where the lesser nobles liked to vacation.

Caz sagged, his leaves drooping as if they’d never tasted water. “So did I.”

They sailed silently. It was a gloriously beautiful day for a sail. Light breeze. Cheerful lemon light flashing on the water. Seagulls flew overhead, cawing to one another. The many islands of the Crescent Islands Empire—if it was an empire anymore, thanks to the revolutionaries—looked peaceful from the distance, if you didn’t look back to where smoke still stained the sky over the capital city. The islands’ gray, white, and black cliffs were majestic, and the sweet little fishing villages looked quaint, with their brightly painted houses, cheerful gardens, and cobblestone streets. She and Caz could sail into one of their harbors and then—do what? She couldn’t afford an inn for more than a couple days. The coins that Kiela had brought with her wouldn’t go far. Even if she could pay the harbor fees, she didn’t relish living on the boat, day in and day out.

She resolved not to panic. She’d think as she sailed. And an answer would come to her.

Across the water, she saw a herd of merhorses rise and fall with the waves. Her breath caught in her throat. Half horse and half fish, they were a magnificent sight. She watched, mesmerized, as they cantered through the water. Their hooves crashed through the waves as their powerful fish tails propelled them forward. Covered in jewellike scales and made of solid muscle, they were the living embodiment of both beauty and strength. Like the sea itself, Kiela thought. One of them tossed its mane, and droplets sprayed up and caught the light—a flash of rainbow.

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#Review - The Bone Maker by Sarah Beth Durst #Fantasy

Series: Standalone
Format: Paperback, 496 pages
Release Date: March 9, 2021
Publisher: Harper Voyager
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Epic

From award-winning author Sarah Beth Durst, a standalone epic fantasy set in a brand-new world of towering mountains and sparkling cities, in which a band of aging warriors have a second chance to defeat dark magic and avenge a haunting loss.

"Durst consistently defies expectations."—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Twenty-five years ago, five heroes risked their lives to defeat the bone maker Eklor—a corrupt magician who created an inhuman army using animal bones. But victory came at a tragic price. Only four of the heroes survived.

Since then, Kreya, the group’s leader, has exiled herself to a remote tower and devoted herself to one purpose: resurrecting her dead husband. But such a task requires both a cache of human bones and a sacrifice—for each day he lives, she will live one less.

She’d rather live one year with her husband than a hundred without him, but using human bones for magic is illegal in Vos. The dead are burned—as are any bone workers who violate the law. Yet Kreya knows where she can find the bones she needs: the battlefield where her husband and countless others lost their lives.

But defying the laws of the land exposes a terrible possibility. Maybe the dead don’t rest in peace after all.

Five warriors—one broken, one gone soft, one pursuing a simple life, one stuck in the past, and one who should dead. Their story should have been finished. But evil doesn’t stop just because someone once said, “the end.”

 

Sarah Beth Durst's The Bone Maker is a standalone fantasy which explores the notion of second chances and what comes next after a hero's journey. The Bone Maker introduces new characters in a new setting but is written in Sarah’s captivating narrative style and explores the themes that make her novels favorites in the genre. Like the central characters from her previous novels, The Bone Maker centers on a multifaceted, strong female protagonist who will appeal to fans of Naomi Novik and S. A. Chakraborty. 

25 years ago, during the Bone War, 5 heroes came together and defeated a notorious villain named Eklor and his grotesque army. One of their team fell saving another. 25 years later, Kreya, the leader of the team, is living life as a hermit outside of the village of Eren creating her own bone constructs while trying to find a way to bring her husband, Jentt, back to life. In this reality, the dead are burned so that evil bone workers don't use the dead's bones for their nefarious machinations. That doesn't stop Kreya who desperately wants to find a way to bring Jentt back from the dead.  

Jentt, along with Zera, Marso, and Stran, are the other four members of Kreya's team. While Kreya has been living alone, Zera has become wealthy, Stran got married and has three children, while Marso has some serious issues that make him legitimately afraid of touching another bone to see what the future may hold. Kreya knows that there is only one place that has the bones she needs to raise Jentt and that is the forbidden zone which is lined with walls, and protected by soldiers.

Zera is a bone wizard who makes talismans. She's really the face of the team who has all but vanished into the woodwork. Since people tend to love gossip, Zera's presence gives them plenty to talk about. After a trip to visit Zara, a shocking discovery is made. Their nemesis is very much alive and on the move and it appears that he has swayed numerous important Bone council members to believing he seeks forgiveness and a second chance. Kreya knows better. Kreya slowly puts her old team back together, including a very much alive Jentt, to try to make one more stand for the people of Vos.

There are three types of bone magic users in the novel; bone seers who see the future using bones, bone wizards who create bone talismans imbued with power, and bone makers. Kreya is a bone maker who uses the power of bones to animate machines and inanimate objects and have them function to her will. It's a world that seems rather primitive except for the cable cars and the magic crawling carriages. Bones are what makes everything work here from mechanical contrivances to corpses.

There was also a TON of dialogue in this book, way more than was necessary. Part of this story is told from the perspective of Zara who, as I said, is something of a celebrity. Even though Zera is secure in who she is, her constant need for attention with her sarcastic humor kind of dragged the book down a bit.
The world building could have and should have been broadened a lot more. There is this entire city supposedly has five levels to it, and yet we only get a brief glance as Kreya is proceeding through all 5 levels to reach Zara. I need to explain the ending without spoiling things for future readers. Let's just say that in the end, you have to be really strong willed not to want to stand up and say, that's it?

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#Review w/Excerpt - Race the Sands by Sarah Beth Durst #Fantasy

Series: Standalone
Format: Paperback, 544 pages
Release Date: April 21, 2020
Publisher: Harper Voyager
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Epic

In this epic standalone fantasy, the acclaimed author of the Queens of Renthia series introduces an imaginative new world in which a pair of strong and determined women risk their lives battling injustice, corruption, and deadly enemies in their quest to become monster racing champions.

Life, death, and rebirth—in Becar, everyone knows that who you are in this life will determine what you are in your next life. The augurs can read your fate in your aura: hawk, heron, tortoise, jackal, human. Armed with that knowledge, you can change your destiny with the choices you make, both in this life and your next. But for the darkest individuals, there is no redemption: you come back as a kehok, a monster, and you will always be a kehok for the rest of time.

Unless you can win the Races.

As a professional trainer, Tamra was an elite kehok rider. Then a tragic accident on the track shattered her confidence, damaged her career, and left her nearly broke. Now Tamra needs the prize money to prevent the local temple from taking her daughter away from her, and that means she must once again find a winning kehok . . . and a rider willing to trust her.

Raia is desperate to get away from her domineering family and cruel fiancé. As a kehok rider, she could earn enough to buy her freedom. But she can’t become good enough to compete without a first-rate trainer.

Impressed by the inexperienced young woman’s determination, Tamra hires Raia and pairs her with a strange new kehok with the potential to win—if he can be tamed.

 

In this epic standalone fantasy, Sarah Beth Durst's Race the Sands introduces an imaginative new world in which a pair of strong and determined women risk their lives battling injustice, corruption, and deadly enemies in their quest to become monster racing champions. In the desert world of Becar, people are reincarnated upon death and the worst of the worst are reincarnated as kehoks, or demons that are the dream spawn of Simic monster hybrids. 

As a former Becaran Races winner who is now thought to be cursed, Tamra Verlas is a trainer who understands the risks involved with the kehok races and trains her pupils not to bond with their charges. Tamra would do anything to protect her 11-year old daughter Shalla who was chosen to become one of the Augurs who can tell you what you were in a previous life, and what you'll become in your next. When her patron, Lady Evara, gives Tamra an ultimatium of training a winner or be fired, Tamra buys a black lion kehok with the intent fixing her reputation after an accident the previous racing season. 

All she needs is a rider. Raia is desperate to get away from her domineering family and cruel fiancé. As a kehok rider, she could earn enough to buy her freedom. But she needs a first-rate trainer. Impressed by the inexperienced young woman's determination, Tamra hires Raia and pairs her with a strange new kehok with the potential to win -- if he can be tamed. Raia and Tamra's relationship is that of a mother to a daughter and it's wonderful to see. Raia and her kehok bond almost immediately through a series of trials, tribulations, failures and amazing accomplishments. 

That is if they can only avoid royal conspiracies, Becaran Races, assassinations, her competitors vying for fame and fortune, as well as a possibility of war on the horizon. Then there are the monsters. The kehok are monsters that would do Doctor Moreau proud—from lion and lizard combinations, rhino and jaguar, to horse and jackal monstrosities, to a black lion with steel scales. These monsters are the rebirth of the "darkest, most evil souls" of Becar which in and of itself is an interesting view on reincarnation. 

Tamra and Raia are the main characters yes, but don't over look Lady Evara who puts together a plan to get Raia to the Becaran Races. This society is heavily dependent on priest-like councilors called augurs like Yorbel who uncovers a shocking truth about kehoks that could destroy Becare as well as Prince Dar. Emperor-to-be Dar who is seaching for his brother's soul before he can be crowned Emperor. He has to deal with unruly ambassadors, a population growing restless, and the thought that his country will soon be invaded by a neighboring county unless his brothers soul is found quickly. 

It's fair to say that Sarah Beth Durst is an author that I am looking forward to see what she writes next. This is a story that has little romance, but could have if the author chose to do so. I'm glad she focused on Tamra and Raia's journey instead.

Call it what it is: monster racing.
Forget that, and you die.
Tamra thought she should have that tattooed on her forehead so the idiots she was trying to train stood a chance of remembering it. Bellowing with every shred of voice she had left, she shouted at her newest crop of riders, "They're not your pets! They're not your friends! You falter, they will kill you! You lose focus, they will kill you! You do anything stupid, they will--say it with me now . . ."
Dutifully, the five riders-to-be chimed, "Kill us!"
"Yes!"
One of her students raised her hand, timidly, which was not a good sign. If a little shouting withered her, how was she going to survive a race? "But I thought you told us to befriend the kehoks? Earn their trust?"
Oh, by the River, was that how they interpreted it? "Did I?" She fixed her glare on each of them, letting it linger until they wilted under her gaze like a sprout beneath the full desert sun. "Can anyone tell me exactly what I told you to do?"
Another answered, "To, um, be kind to them? Serve their needs?"
For the last month, she'd had them mucking out the kehoks' stalls and piling them with fresh straw, dragging water from the Aur River to fill the kehoks' buckets, and selecting the highest quality feed. She'd instructed them to care for the kehoks as they would a beloved horse, albeit keeping away from their teeth and claws and, in some cases, spiked tails. "Exactly. Anyone want to tell me why?"
The first student, Amira, cleared her throat. "So they learn to trust us and will obey--"
"They are monsters," Tamra snapped. "They do not trust. They do not feel gratitude. Or mercy. They do not understand kindness." Kehoks didn't, couldn't, change. Unlike the rest of creation, they were what they were, condemned for all time.
"Then why--" a third began.
"Because we are not monsters!" Tamra bellowed. "The decency you display is for the sake of your souls. The kehoks are already doomed to their fates. I will not train riders only to have them come back as racers!"
They all looked shocked, and she had to resist rolling her eyes. River save me from the innocent arrogance of youth. All of them believed they were too pure to ever be reborn as a kehok. Only the darkest, most evil souls came back as those insults to nature, and so her young students believed themselves safe. They didn't understand that evil could grow if planted in a field of banal cruelty. They didn't see why it was important to diligently protect and preserve every scrap of honor. Then again, this wasn't a temple.
They'd either figure it out eventually or regret it for an eternity.
Besides, more than likely, they'll all turn out mediocre and come back as cows.
All she could do was give them the chance to improve their lot, both in this life and the next one. She couldn't control what they chose to do with that opportunity.
Tamra put her fists on her hips. "The ability to show kindness and mercy to those who do not deserve it is a strength! And that strength will give you an edge in the races."
And now they looked confused.
"Only the strongest win," Tamra said. "You've heard that a thousand times. But is it strength of muscle? Obviously not. No human alive can out-muscle a kehok. It's strength of mind, strength of heart, and strength of will."
The third student, a fifteen-year-old boy named Fetran, crossed his arms, as if that made him look tough and defiant. With his gangly limbs and pimply face, he just looked petulant. Why, oh, why did I agree to train these children? she asked herself. Oh, yes, their parents were paying her. Lousy way to pay the augurs' bills. Not that she had much of a choice. Because while she'd be far better off picking a potential winner, training him or her up with a brand-new kehok, and claiming her share of the prize money, there was the little problem that she couldn't afford the race entrance fees, not to mention the purchase price of a new kehok. . . .
"So, last season?" Fetran drawled. "Was your rider weak of mind, heart, or will?"
Low blow.
Tamra smiled.
He shrank back.
She smiled broader. She knew that when she smiled, the scar that ran from her left eye to her neck stretched and paled. She'd gotten that scar during her final kehok race, a race she'd won, before she'd retired to raise her daughter and train future champions. Emphasizing that scar made people uncomfortable. She loved her scar. It was her favorite feature, a relic of a time when she was the one destined for greatness, with a wide future ahead of her.
In a falsely chipper voice, Tamra said, "Maybe it was a combination. But you seem to have everything sorted out, so how about you show us how it's done?"
Fetran looked as if he wanted to bolt. Or vomit. "I c-can't . . ."
She let him squirm a minute more, intending to let him off the hook, but then Amira stepped forward, cleared her throat, and said in a squeak, "I'll try."
Oh, kehoks. That was not what she'd meant to happen.
Tamra opened her mouth to say, No, you're not ready. But then she stopped. Studying Amira, she thought, There's some strength in her. A spark, maybe. If it could be fed . . .
Briefly, she allowed herself to imagine the glory, if she transformed one of these rich kids into a fierce competitor. She'd be the most sought-after trainer in all Becar, and her daughter would never again have to feel worry that they'd be separated.
No. It's a crazy idea. I can't turn one of them into a winner. It was widely known that the children of the wealthy dallied in racing but never won. None of them had the fire. You had to burn with the need to win, with the conviction that this is what you were meant to do. That was an aspect of racing that couldn't be taught, and these spoiled rich kids had never felt it. They'd never known the feeling of yearning for a future that vanished like a mirage before your eyes. Or the feeling of having all your dreams slip like sand through your fingers. They'd never tried to change their fate and discovered it was immutable.
They'd never been thirsty.
On the other hand . . . the girl had volunteered to try.
Maybe the answer to all Tamra's problems had been right here in front of her the whole time, and she'd been too stubborn to see it. The augurs preached that you could improve the quality of your soul by your choices, and thus grant meaning to your current life and hope for your next. Tamra might not be able to read the state of these kids' immortal souls . . .
But maybe I could give them a chance to shine.
"Follow me," Tamra said curtly.
"Hey, she asked me," Fetran butted in. "I'm first."
"You're going to break your neck," Amira told him.
"And you won't?"
"My kehok likes me."
Tamra heaved a sigh. Seriously, why did she bother talking? It wasn't as if they listened to her. Kehoks liked no one, because they loathed themselves. I'm a terrible teacher. I should switch to raising potted plants. "You'll race each other. And you'll use chains and harnesses." When Fetran began to object, she held up her hand. "I don't want to explain to your parents why their darlings are minus a few limbs."
Or have them explain to me why I'm not getting paid anymore.
Without looking back to see if they were following, Tamra stalked across the training grounds to the kehok stable, a prisonlike block, made of mud-brick and stone, that dominated half the practice area. Out of the corner of her eye she saw other trainers' students running obstacle courses, lifting weighted barrels, and wrestling each other on the sand. She didn't make eye contact with any of them. She knew what the other trainers would think of this--her students weren't ready for the track. But they would never be ready if they didn't take risks.
And if there was a chance she could shape them into what she needed them to be . . .
Closer to the stable, she heard the kehoks.
The worst part about a kehok scream was that it sounded almost human, as if a man or woman's vocal cords had been shredded and then patched up sloppily by an untrained doctor. It made your blood curdle and your bones shiver.
Tamra was used to it.
Her students still weren't.
Amira and Fetran huddled with the others in a clump as she flung open the doors. This is a terrible idea, she thought. Sunlight flooded the stalls, and the kehoks screamed louder. They kicked and bashed against their walls. There were eighteen kehoks in the stable, five of which were owned by Tamra's patron.
She halted in front of them.
The unnaturalness of the creatures made your skin crawl, even if you were accustomed to seeing them on a daily basis. Kehoks looked as if they'd been stitched together by a crazed god. There were dozens, even hundreds, of possible varieties, all of them with the same twisted wrongness to their bodies. In the batch before her, one had the heft of a rhino and the jaws of a croc. Another looked like a horse-size jackal with the teeth and venom of a king cobra. Another bore the head of a lizard and the hindquarters of a massive lion. According to the augurs, the shape of the kehok's body reflected the kind of depravity it had committed in its prior life.
Tamra picked the lion-lizard and the rhino-croc. She wasn't trusting newbies around venom, even in a practice race. Starting with the lion-lizard, she positioned herself in front of his stall and met his eyes.
Like all kehoks, he had sun-gold eyes.
The eyes were the only thing beautiful about any of them.
She let her gaze bore into his. Steadying her breathing, she shut out all other distractions: the whispers of her students, the screams of the other kehoks, even the muttering of other trainers, who had come to see what she was doing in the stalls so early in the training season.
She felt her heartbeat. Steady. Thump, thump, thump. Focusing on that, she willed the kehok's heart to beat at the same tempo.
He fought her. They always did.
Rearing back, he struggled against the shackles.
"Calm," she murmured. "Calm."
Moving slowly, Tamra gestured to Fetran to pass her a harness and saddle. He did, and Tamra kept her thoughts firmly fixed on the kehok. Thump, thump, thump.
She tossed the saddle onto the kehok's back. The monster shuddered but didn't try to bolt. Continuing to move deliberately, she attached the harness--both the harness and the saddle clipped onto a chain net that was fitted over the kehok's thick hide. The chain net allowed them to be shackled within their stall, as well as quickly saddled.
She repeated the process with the second mount.
When both were ready, she signaled her students: Fetran and Amira to the starting gates and the rest to the viewing stands. Grasping one harness in each hand, she barked at the two kehoks, "Follow!"
Kehoks didn't respond to words.
They responded to intent. And will.
According to Becaran scientists who had studied the kehoks for ages, the kehoks read your conviction through a combination of your voice, your expression, and your body language. The augurs claimed they responded to your aura and its reflection of the purity of your purpose. But Tamra believed what most riders and former riders secretly believed: the kehoks read your heart and mind. Regardless of how they did it, though, the result was the same. Doubt yourself, and you'll be gored. Don't doubt . . . and they'll take you to the finish line.
In other words, the more stubborn you were, the better control you would have.
And Tamra was very stubborn.
She just had to hope these two teenagers were as stubborn as she'd been.
Everyone watched as she led the two kehoks to the racetrack. She was, she admitted to herself, showing off. Not many people could control two at once. It had been considered a useless parlor trick when she'd been a rider--you were allowed to influence only your own racer--but it had come in handy as a trainer.
Locking the kehoks into the starting shoots, Tamra beckoned Fetran and Amira. They slunk closer, clearly regretting having agreed to this. She thought about letting them back out, but then thought, This is their chance at glory! Or at least it was a step in the general vicinity of glory. Whether they knew it or not, she was offering them freedom from the lives that had been mapped out for them. And a chance to change the fate of their souls.
"One lap," she told them. "Loser mucks out the winner's stall for a week."
"Get ready to shovel," Fetran said to Amira, his bravado belied only by the adolescent cracking of his voice.
Amira's eyes were as wide as a hare who's caught sight of a hawk. But she said, "You're only saying that because you're scared I'll win."
You're both scared, Tamra wanted to say. "Mount up," she ordered instead. "Belt yourselves in. Fetran, take the rhino-croc. Amira, the lion-lizard."
The two students climbed the ladders into the starting shoots. Tamra moved around to the front, forcing the two kehoks to focus on her instead of the riders. Normally, an advanced rider would do this by him- or herself, but she wasn't taking chances. Her students had never run side by side before, on a shielded track. So far, all their experience with riding the kehoks had been solo, heavily supervised by her. She held the mounts steady with her will.
This is going to work, she thought. I'm going to make them into winners! I'm going to change their destinies! Instead of dilettantes who dabbled in racing before returning to run their parents' estates, they'd be champions. When they went for their annual augur readings--or however often rich kids went--they'd be told hawk or tiger, instead of cow or mouse. They'd be thrilled--the young always wanted to be reborn as something grand.
The two students lowered themselves into the saddles and belted themselves in with the harnesses--the straps should keep them on their kehok's back no matter what the monster did. In a professional race, there were no harnesses and no chain nets.
It added to the excitement.
She broke contact with the kehoks and climbed the ladders to check the straps. The second she switched her focus to the saddles, the kehoks began to buck and snort. Fetran and Amira clung to their backs.
Straps were secure.
She took a breath . . .
Reconsidered all her life choices that led her to this moment . . .
Decided it was too late to change her mind and run off into the desert to live a less stressful life subsisting on scorpions and camel dung . . .
She retreated to the stands, beyond the dampening shield that covered the track. All racetracks had an augur-created psychic shield that prevented anyone in the stands from influencing the racers, whether it was by concentrated determination or an overabundance of enthusiasm. From here on, it was up to her two students.
"You have one task," Tamra called to Fetran and Amira. "Fix this word in your mind:
"Run!"
Tamra then slapped the lever that unlatched the gates, and the two kehoks, with their riders still clinging to their backs, burst out of the starting shoots. They barreled forward--even at a cheap training facility like theirs, the practice track was hemmed in by high walls, so there was no place for the massive mounts to go except forward. But that didn't mean they wouldn't try to resist.
She jogged through the stands, parallel to the track.
The lion-lizard bashed against the wall, trying to knock his rider off. He didn't understand that the rider was attached. Tamra felt each blow in her memory--her bones still ached because of the number of times she'd been slammed against a training wall. Then there was the time a kehok had rolled on top of her in an attempt to unseat her. Her right leg had broken in three places, but she'd won that race. Some days--like today, with twinges of sympathy--her leg still hurt.
"Run!" she shouted at the two riders. "That's all that matters! That's all that exists! You are nothing but the sand beneath the hooves, the wind in your face, the sun on your back. You are this moment. Feel the moment. Feel the race!"
She missed it, the way the wind felt, the way the rest of the world fell away, the way life was distilled into a simple goal. Nothing about life was simple anymore.
She wished she could peel away everything else and just focus on this: a race. Just her and a monster that she understood and could control, rather than the monsters who wore human faces and believed they were purer of soul than she.
Maybe they are purer than me. But that doesn't make their actions right.
She couldn't dwell on that now, though, as Amira and Fetran demanded her attention. The other students and trainers cheered as the two kehoks and riders thundered around the track. Sand was kicked into the air in a cloud that billowed up toward the sky. She began to feel a shred of the old exhilaration--the barely bridled wildness of the kehoks, matched with the barely contained terror of the riders. It was intoxicating. Tamra cheered with the others as the riders rounded the third corner.
And then it happened--
Fetran lost control.
She knew it a split second before the crowd gasped. It was in the way the boy's kehok tossed his head, the sun glinting off his golden eyes--
Freedom.
The rhino-croc sensed that the boy's focus had slipped, and he pivoted on his back feet. Rising up, he struck the other kehok, the lion-lizard, in the face. The lion-lizard crashed to the wall, and the girl--pinned between her mount's back and the wall--cried out in pain. Shaking off the crash, the lion-lizard then charged at the rhino-croc. He lashed with his claws, and the croc clamped down with his massive jaws.
Tamra was already running. She leaped onto the sands of the track with no thought but to save her students. Ahead of her, the two kehoks were tearing into each other.
She threw herself forward, feetfirst, skidding between them on her back. Hands up, she roared with every fiber of her being: "STOP!"
Later, the other trainers would tell her what she did was suicidal.
You're crazy.
You don't throw yourself between out-of-control kehoks.
You don't lie prone beneath their hooves and claws.
But Tamra did.
What she didn't do was allow a shred of doubt or fear into her mind. They would stop because they must stop. Her livelihood depended on it. Her daughter depended on it. I will not lose these students.
You. Will. Stop.
And they did.
Snorting and snuffling, the two kehoks dropped back onto four feet and retreated from her. Rising to her feet, hands outstretched, one toward each, Tamra felt her whole body shaking with . . . She had no name for what she felt. But they would calm. Now.
She heard the others running toward them. Shouting for healers, the other trainers unstrapped her two riders. She heard the screams of her other students, their voices melding as if they were a single scared beast. One of the riders, Fetran, was howling in pain. The other, Amira, was frighteningly silent.
But Tamra kept her focus on the two kehoks.
She walked toward one and took his harness. Then she took the other. She led them along the racetrack, crossed the finish line, and then led them back across the training ground to their stalls. It felt ten times as far as it was.
Only when they were locked in did she allow other thoughts to enter her mind.
Her students.
Were they dead?
Was it her fault?
Yes, of course it is. She was their trainer. Part of her job was teaching them not to die.
For a moment, Tamra couldn't make her feet move. She'd rather face a herd of kehoks than exit the stables now and see what damage had been done.
One of the kehoks snorted as if it were mocking her cowardice.
Go, she ordered herself.
And she walked out of the stable to see how badly her students were broken, and to take responsibility for letting her hopes destroy their dreams--and possibly her own.

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