#Review - The Fragile Threads of Power by V.E. Schwab #Fantasy

Series: Threads of Power # 1
Format: Hardcover, 648 pages
Release Date: September 26, 2023
Publisher: Tor Books
Source: Library
Genre: Fantasy / Gaslamp

From #1 New York Times bestselling author V. E. Schwab comes a new adventure set in a beloved world—where old friends and foes alike are faced with a dangerous new threat.

A new door opens...

Once there were four worlds, nestled like pages in a book, each pulsing with fantastical power and connected by a single city: London.

After a desperate attempt to prevent corruption and ruin in the four Londons, there are only three—Grey London, thriving but barely able to remember its magical heritage; Red London, ruled lately by the Maresh family, flourishing and powerful; and White London, left to brutality and decay.

Now the worlds are going to collide anew—brought to a dangerous precipice by the discoveries of three remarkable magicians.

There's Kosika, the child queen of White London, who has nourished her city on blood and dreams—and whose growing devotion to both is leading her down a dangerous path.

Then there's Delilah Bard, born a thief in Grey London, who crossed the worlds to become a legend far from there. She's an infamous magician, a devious heroine, and a risk-taking rogue, all rolled into one unforgettable package. Having disappeared to seek new adventure, an old favor now calls Lila back to a dangerous port, to join some old friends who need more help than they realize.

Last there is Tes, a young runaway with an unusual and powerful ability, hiding out in Red London while trying to stay out of the limelight.

Tes is the only one who can keep all the worlds from unraveling—if she manages to stay alive first.

The Fragile Threads of Power, by V.E. Schwab, is the first installment in the authors Threads of Power series which takes place in the same world as the authors The Shades of Magic universe. This book is a monster at 640 pages with a variety of older characters and younger newer characters who have been mixed together. Some are allies, some are unknown, one may be the destruction of everything that happened 7 years ago. Once upon a time, there were four worlds, nestled like pages in a book, each pulsing with fantastical power and connected by a single city: London. 

A span of seven years has elapsed since the portals bridging the realms were sealed shut. A septennial milestone since Kell Maresh, Lila Bard, and Holland Vosijk joined forces to confront the threat of Osaron, destroyer of Black London, an act of dire bravery that safeguarded the realms of Red, Grey, and White London. These seven years have also seen Kell's magic sundered and Holland's life tragically extinguished. In the realm of Red London, Rhy Maresh reigns, his newfound family—Queen Nadiya, their daughter Ren, and his partner Alucard—by his side. 

However, beneath the surface of prosperity simmers a conspiracy and rebellion, rumors suggesting that Rhy's rule is sapping magic from the world. After a desperate attempt to prevent corruption and ruin in the four London's, there are only three—Grey London, thriving but barely able to remember its magical heritage; Red London, ruled lately by the Maresh family, flourishing and powerful with hints of a rebellion; and White London, left to brutality and decay. Now the worlds are going to collide anew—brought to a dangerous precipice by the discoveries of three remarkable magicians.

There's Kosika, the child queen of White London, who has nourished her city on blood and dreams—and whose growing devotion to both is leading her down a dangerous path. Kosika became Queen when she found the body of Holland Vosijk. The queen guides her subjects in rituals of sacrifice and blood, paying homage to the altar of Holland, yet the burgeoning power she wields might prove beyond her command. But there are stirrings in the works, and Kosika seems to be lost in her mind where Holland is actually alive, yet not really, and trying to rekindle a fire that was put out 7 years ago.

Delilah Bard, born a thief in Grey London, who crossed the worlds to become a legend and savior. She's an infamous magician (Antari), a devious heroine, and a risk-taking rogue, all rolled into one unforgettable package. Lila and Kell, now living as free spirits upon the waves onboard Alucard's ship now called Grey Barron. Their lives are about to change once again when she receives a summons from the captain of the Floating Market who she made a bargain with to replace her lost eye. Lila is ordered to recover a profoundly potent artifact, pilfered by enigmatic forces, before bad people do something that may destroy life as we know it. Lila is the only known person to be able to cross into the remaining worlds as the the most powerful Atari in existence. But a mysterious rebellion called the Hand, and a young blood thirsty Queen may destroy all she, Kell, and Holland worked for.

Tesali (Tes) ran away from home after her powers awakened, and her mother was afraid she would be sold into slavery. Tes, who is 15, has been hiding out in Red London while trying to stay out of the limelight. Tes is the only person in the known world who can see the threads of magic and put them together. She is brilliant in the way she can fix any broken item. Tes becomes unintentionally involved in a plot against the crown when a thief brings a stolen magical object into her repair shop, only to find two assassins at her door wanting her to recreate the box that could change the course of the worlds. Tes may very well be the only person in any of the world's who can stop the unraveling of worlds. 

*Thoughts* It's surprising when an author decides to write more books in the world that she created, especially after so many years. This book is different from the previous series in that the different characters are shown in various times along the way. Flashbacks pop up every other chapter and jump around seven years ago, two years ago, five years ago, three years ago in a way that after a while became difficult in some ways to parse out what was happening. My favorite character in this book is Tes and her inanimate owl who she cobbled together to be her companion. 

Lila is once again the most interesting character because everyone is afraid of her, and she really doesn't care who likes her, or who doesn't. The mysterious characters in this book are the Queen, who loves to create things, and a mysterious priest who may or may not be leading to the destruction of the Maresh family. As I have stated many times in the 13 plus years of reviewing books, the best way to keep track of characters is to keep good notes. Write each character down, and what important scenes they are part of and why that's important to the story. 

RED LONDON

NOW

Master Haskin had a knack for fixing broken things.

The sign on his shop door said as much.

ES HAL VIR, HIS HAL NASVIR, it declared in neat gold font.

Once broken, soon repaired.

Ostensibly, his business was devoted to the mending of clocks, locks, and household trinkets. Objects guided by simple magic, the minor cogs that turned in so many London homes. And of course, Master Haskin could fix a clock, but so could anyone with a decent ear and a basic understanding of the language of spells.

No, most of the patrons that came through the black door of Haskin’s shop brought stranger things. Items “salvaged” from ships at sea, or lifted from London streets, or claimed abroad. Objects that arrived damaged, or were broken in the course of acquisition, their spellwork having rattled loose, unraveled, or been ruined entirely.

People brought all manner of things to Haskin’s shop. And when they did, they invariably encountered his apprentice.

She was usually perched, cross-legged, on a rickety stool behind the counter, a tangle of brown curls piled like a hat on her head, the unruly mass bound up with twine, or netting, or whatever she could find in a pinch. She might have been thirteen, or twenty-three, depending on the light. She sat like a child and swore like a sailor, and dressed as if no one had ever taught her how. She had thin quick fingers that were always moving, and keen dark eyes that twitched over whatever broken thing lay gutted on the counter, and she talked as she worked, but only to the skeleton of the owl that sat nearby.

It had no feathers, no flesh, just bones held together by silver thread. She had named the bird Vares—prince—after Kell Maresh, to whom it bore little resemblance, save for its two stone eyes, one of which was blue, the other black, and the unsettling effect it had on those it met—the result of a spell that spurred it now and then to click its beak or cock its head, startling unsuspecting customers.

Sure enough, the woman currently waiting across the counter jumped.

“Oh,” she said, ruffling as if she had feathers of her own. “I didn’t know it was alive.”

“It’s not,” said the apprentice, “strictly speaking.” In truth, she often wondered where the line was. After all, the owl had only been spelled to mimic basic movements, but now and then she’d catch him picking at a wing where the feathers would be, or notice him staring out the window with those flat rock eyes, and she swore that he was thinking something of his own.

The apprentice returned her attention to the waiting woman. She fetched a glass jar from beneath the counter. It was roughly the size of her hand, and shaped like a lantern with six glass sides.

“Here you are then,” she said as she set it on the table.

The customer lifted the object carefully, brought it to her lips, and whispered something. As she did, the lantern lit, the glass sides frosting a milky white. The apprentice watched, and saw what the woman couldn’t—the filaments of light around the object rippled and smoothed, the spellwork flowing seamlessly as the woman brought it to her ear. The message whispered itself back, and the glass went clear again, the vessel empty.

The woman smiled. “Marvelous,” she said, bundling the mended secret-keeper away inside her coat. She set the coins down in a neat stack, one silver lish and four red lin.

“Give Master Haskin my thanks,” she added, already turning away.

“I will,” called the apprentice as the door swung shut.

She swept the coins from the counter, and hopped down from her stool, rolling her head on her shoulders to stretch.

There was no Master Haskin, of course.

Once or twice when the shop was new, she’d dragged an old man from the nearest tavern, paid him a lin or two to come and sit in the back with his head bent over a book, just so she could point him out to customers and say, “The master is busy working now,” since apparently a man half in his cups still inspired more faith than a sharp-eyed girl who looked even younger than her age, which was fifteen.

Then she got tired of spending the coin, so she propped a few boxes and a pillow behind a mottled glass door and pointed to that instead.

These days she didn’t bother, just flicked her fingers toward the back of the shop and said, “He’s busy.” It turned out, no one really cared, so long as the fixing got done.

Now, alone in the shop, the apprentice—whose name, not that anyone knew it, was Tesali—rubbed her eyes, cheekbones bruised from the blotters she wore all day, to focus her gaze. She took a long swig of black tea, bitter and over-steeped, just the way she liked it—and still hot, thanks to the mug, one of the first things she’d ever spelled.

The day was thinning out beyond the windows, and the lanterns around the shop began to glow, warming the room with a buttery light that glanced off the shelves and cases and worktops, all of them well stocked, but not cluttered, toeing the line between a welcome fullness and a mess.

It was a balance Tes had learned from her father.

Shops like this had to be careful—too clean, and it looked like you were lacking business. Too messy, and customers would take that business elsewhere. If everything they saw was broken, they’d think you were no good at fixing. If everything they saw was fixed, they’d wonder why no one had come to claim it.

Haskin’s shop—her shop—struck the perfect balance.

There were shelves with spools of cable—copper and silver, mostly, the best conduits for magic—and jars full of cogs and pencils and tacks, and piles of scrap paper covered in the scrawls of half-worked spells. All the things she guessed a repair shop might keep on hand. In truth, the cogs, the papers, the coils, they were all for show. A bit of set dressing to put the audience at ease. A little sleight of hand, to distract them from the truth.

Tes didn’t need any of these things to fix a bit of broken magic.

All she needed were her eyes.

Her eyes, which for some reason saw the world not just in shape and color, but in threads.

Everywhere she looked, she saw them.

A glowing ribbon curled in the water of her tea. A dozen more ran through the wood of her table. A hundred delicate lines wove through the bones of her pet owl. They twisted and coiled through the air around and above everyone and everything. Some were dull, and others bright. Some were single strands and others braided filaments, some drifted, feather light, and others rushed like a current. It was a dizzying maelstrom.

But Tes couldn’t just see the threads of power. She could touch them. Pluck a string as if it were an instrument and not the fabric of the world. Find the frayed ends of a fractured spell, trace the lines of broken magic and mend them.

She didn’t speak the language of spellwork, didn’t need to. She knew the language of magic itself. Knew it was a rare gift, and knew what people did to get their hands on rare things, which was exactly why she maintained the illusion of the shop.

Vares clicked his beak, and fluttered his featherless wings. She glanced at the little owl, and he stared back, then swiveled his head to the darkening streets beyond the glass.

“Not yet,” she said, finishing her tea. Better to wait a bit and see if any more business wandered in. A shop like Haskin’s had a different kind of client, once darkness fell.

Tes reached beneath the counter and pulled out a bundle of burlap, unfolding the cloth to reveal a sword, then took up the pair of blotters. They looked like spectacles, though the gift lay not in the lens, but in the frames, heavy and black, the edges extending to either side like the blinders on a horse. Which is exactly what they were, blotting out the rest of the room, narrowing her world to just the space of the counter, and the sword atop it.

She settled them over her eyes.

“See this?” She spoke to Vares, pointing to the steel. A spell had originally been etched into the flat side, but a portion of it had scraped away in a fight, reducing the blade from an unbreakable weapon to a scrap of flimsy metal. To Tes’s eyes, the filaments of magic around the weapon were similarly frayed.

“Spells are like bodies,” she explained. “They go stiff, and break down, either from wear or neglect. Reset a bone wrong, and you might have a limp. Put a spell back in the wrong way, and the whole thing might splinter, or shatter, or worse.”

Lessons she’d learned the hard way.

Tes flexed her fingers, and ran them through the air just over the steel.

“A spell exists in two places,” she continued. “On the metal, and in the magic.”

Another fixer would simply etch the spell into the blade again. But the metal would keep getting damaged. No, better to take the spell and weave it into the magic itself. That way, no matter what happened to the sigils on the steel, the power would hold.

Carefully, she reached into the web of magic and began to mend the threads, drawing the frayed ends together, tying tiny knots that then fell away, leaving the ribbons smooth, intact. She got so lost in the work, she didn’t hear the shop door open.

Didn’t notice, not until Vares perked up, beak clicking in alarm.

Tes looked up, her hands still buried in the spell.

With the blotters on, she couldn’t see more than a hand’s width, so it took her a moment to find the customer. He was large, with a hard face, and a nose that had been broken more than once, but her attention went, as it always did, to the magic around him. Or the lack of it. It wasn’t common to see a person without any power, and the utter absence of threads made him a dark spot in the room.

“Looking for Haskin,” he grunted, scanning the shop.

Tes carefully withdrew her fingers, and tugged the goggles off, flicking the burlap back over the sword. “He’s busy,” she said, tipping her head toward the rear of the shop, as if he were back there. “But I can help.”

The man gave her a look that made her hackles rise. She only got two kinds of looks: appraising, and skeptical. Those who saw her as a woman, and those who saw her as a girl. Both looks made her feel like a sack of grain being weighed, but she hated the latter more, that way it was meant to make her feel small. The fact, sometimes, it did.

The man’s hard eyes dropped to the sword, its hilt poking out from beneath the burlap. “You even old enough to handle magic?”

Tes forced herself to smile. With teeth. “Why don’t you show me what you have?”

He grunted, and reached into his coat pocket, withdrawing a leather cuff and setting it on the table. She knew exactly what it was, or rather, what it was meant to be. Would have known, even if she hadn’t glimpsed the black brand circling his left wrist as he set it down. That explained the lack of threads, the darkness in the air around him. He wasn’t magicless by nature—he’d been marked with a limiter, which meant the crown had seen fit to strip him of his power.

Tes took up the cuff, and turned it over in her hands.

Limiters were the highest price a criminal could pay, shy of execution, and many considered it a harsher punishment, to live without access to one’s magic. It was forbidden, of course, to bypass one. To negate the limiter’s spell. But forbidden didn’t mean impossible. Only expensive. The cuff, she guessed, had been sold to him as a negater. She wondered if he knew that he’d been ripped off, that the cuff was faulty, the spellwork unfinished, a clumsy snarl in the air. It was never designed to work.

But it could.

“Well?” he asked, impatient.

She held the cuff between them. “Tell me,” she said, “is this a clock, a lock, or a household trinket?”

The man frowned. “Kers? No, it’s a—”

“This shop,” she explained, “is licensed to repair clocks, locks, and household trinkets.”

He looked pointedly down at the sword sticking out of the burlap. “I was told—”

“It looks like a clock to me,” she cut in.

He stared at her. “But it’s not a clock…?” His voice went up at the end, as if no longer certain. Tes sighed, and gave him a weighted look. It took far too long for him to catch it.

“Oh. Yes.” His eyes flicked down to the leather cuff, and then to the dead owl, which he’d just realized was watching him, before returning to the strange girl across the counter. “Well then, it’s a clock.”

“Excellent,” she said, pulling a box from beneath the counter and dropping the forbidden object inside.

“So he can fix it?”

“Of course,” Tes said with a cheerful grin. “Master Haskin can fix anything.” She tore off a small black ticket with the shop’s sigil and a number printed in gold. “It’ll be ready in a week.”

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#Review - Atoned by Steve McHugh #Science #Fiction

Series: The Wardens # 1
Format: Kindle, 405 pages
Release Date: September 22, 2023
Publisher: Steve McHugh
Source: Kindle Unlimited
Genre: Science Fiction

Civil War tore across the Union Empire, leaving countless dead in its wake. It was a war started by one man, once beloved by the Empire. His betrayal still lingers in the memory of those who lived through it.

Decades later, his son, Felix Drake, is a Warden tasked with both protecting the ruling members of the Union Empire and its Council, and bringing those powerful and influential people to justice should they break the law.

Drake protects the very Empire his father sought to destroy.

When two members of a Council family are murdered, Drake and his team investigate, only to uncover corruption, resentment, and yet more death.
As the case deepens, Drake is forced back into a life he’d left long ago, bringing with it the same disdain and anger from the very people he’s sworn to protect.
However, he’s no longer a helpless child, and the people who try to intimidate him now are about to discover that Drake is so very much his father’s son.

Steven McHugh's Atoned is the first installment in the authors The Wardens series. This story mixes Science Fiction with Urban Fantasy. Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far, far into the future, Civil War tore across the Union Empire, leaving countless dead in its wake. It was a war started by one man, once beloved by the Empire. His betrayal to both the Union and the Rebellion faction, still lingers in the memory of those who lived through it. His son, Felix Drake, has tried to avoid having to live with the past, but there are those eager to blame Felix for his father's misdeeds.

Felix is now a Warden on the Planet of Atharoth, Capitol of the Union Empire. The Wardens job is to investigate and deal with crimes committed by and against the members of the ruling family. Felix helped put a man named Sabas Gossard in prison for the death of a Warden, but now Sabas is out, and he has some powerful friends that are looking for revenge. Felix is also considered to be a very powerful sage who has access to the Aether. Unlike others who are required to have braces on their arms, Felix doesn't need the bracer.

When two members of the Council family are murdered, Drake and his team investigate, only to uncover corruption, resentment, and yet more death, as well as the fact that the that were murdered were former friends of his who he hasn't seen in 27 years. Felix and his team (Satari, Dai-ix, Rose, and Tuck) are given the job by Celine Moro a former blackcoat investigator now Warden boss on the job. As the case deepens, Drake is forced back into a life he’d left long ago, bringing with it the same disdain and anger from the very people he’s sworn to protect.

However, he’s no longer a helpless child, and the people who try to intimidate him now are about to discover that Drake is so very much his father’s son. On the flip side is Jaysa Benezla, Captain of Tracked Retribution. Jaysa and her crew are Trackers who get paid to hunt people down for money. After her contract is cancelled due to the tracked being killed, Jaysa is contacted by Ren Summers, sage, and daughter of the King of Stars and possible heir to the crown. Ren hires Jaysa to uncover the threat to her family after they come under attack and barely survive.

The reader also introduces you to one of the main villains named Atasia Sark who is yet another Sage capable of using the Aether to render people helpless. Apparently, Sark has some very high access to the Empire's military grade technology, but for the life of me, I am unable to tell you why she is so angry with both Felix and Jaysa that will eventually force the two crews to work together to stop Sabas, and anyone else involved in the attacks on Council members and the Royal Family. Sabas is an easy villain to describe. He wants everyone who helped put in him prison for 5 years dead.

*Thoughts* This is a pretty easy read but has some editing errors that should have been caught before releasing the book. There are times I think McHugh writes too quickly because that's how his mind operates. We finish one series, when weeks later, BOOM, here's another series. The author, unfortunately has fallen into the woke choke that has infested certain genre's with things like a gender fluid robot who apparently is more human than artificial intelligence. The author doesn't really do any real worldbuilding, but he does have a diverse cast of characters who are not human. There is also the curious question as to who was really behind the rebellion, and why the author is leaving a villain alive to cause more damage to these characters. As with all of McHugh's series, one I start them, it's hard for me to not finish the series.

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#Review - A Dawn of Onyx by Kate Golden #Fantasy #Romance

Series: The Sacred Stones # 1
Format: Paperback, 432 pages
Release Date: October 10, 2023
Publisher: Berkley
Source: Publisher
Genre: Romance / Fantasy

Arwen Valondale never expected to be the brave one, offering her life to save her brother’s. Now she’s been taken prisoner by the most dangerous kingdom on the continent, and made to use her rare magical abilities to heal the soldiers of the vicious Onyx King.

Arwen knows better than to face the ancient, wicked woods that surround the castle on her own, which means working with a fellow prisoner might be her only path to freedom. Unfortunately, he’s as infuriating as he is cunning—and seems to take twisted pleasure in playing on Arwen’s deepest fears.

But here in Onyx Kingdom, trust is a luxury she can’t afford.

To make it out of enemy territory, she'll have to navigate back-stabbing royals, dark magic, and dangerous beasts. But untold power lies inside Arwen, dormant and waiting for a spark. If she can harness it, she just might be able to escape with her life—and hopefully, her heart. 

A Dawn of Onyx, by Kate Golden, is the first installment in the authors The Sacred Stones series. 20 something Arwen Valondale lives in the Kingdom of Amber in a small village along with her ailing mother, and her younger sister, Leigh. 18 months ago, her brother Ryder and best friend Halden went to war against the Kingdom of Onyx and their dangerous King Ravenwood. Arwen, who has lived somewhat of a sheltered live, is an apprentice healer in the village, and has tried for years to find a way to help her mother who gets sicker by the day.

Then one day, Ryder returns, but he brings trouble with him in the form of the Army of the Kingdom of Onyx. They are looking for the Onyx gold that he apparently stole from them. Arwen pushes the family to leave before they are captured. But after Arwen runs back to get something for her mother, she is captured by soldiers of the Onyx Kingdom. Arwen offers herself and her healing abilities in exchange for her families lives. Arwen soon finds herself being transported to Onyx on a black dragon.

Now she’s been taken prisoner by the most dangerous kingdom on the continent, and made to use her rare magical abilities to heal the soldiers of the vicious Onyx King, Kane Ravenwood who has a reputation as a sadist womanizer. Arwen makes plans to escape, but every time she does, she ends up right back to where she started. After meeting a woman named Mari, Arwen understands that there might be a cure for her mother in the dangerous woods that surround Shadowhold if she can wait until the eclipse.

Arwen's escape attempts leads to sword training from a man named Dagan who is the silent deadly type until he actually has something to say. It was apparent that Dagan felt an obligation to help Arwen fight back against those who misjudged her character and her curious healing abilities which Dagan also makes suggestions to help her feel less worn out. Mari is a another character who has some curious secrets about herself, but her love of books, and her love of research, helped Arwen fell less alone. 

In the heart of Onyx's Army, she starts uncovering truths about the war, the Fae, as well as her own heritage. She undergoes significant character development as she confronts new challenges and learns more about herself and the world around her. After meeting Kane Ravenwood, she finds it hard to get him out of her head. He's not the monster that most people have made him out to be. He's a man who has been trying to find a way to keep his people safe, while avoiding an all out war with other kingdoms who appear to be lining up with the mysterious Fae King Lazarus.  

In her fantasy debut, Golden pulls from the best of the best tropes with a Chosen One prophecy, enemies-to-lovers romance, and forced proximity, fae vs humans storyline. Arwen would do anything to save her family, even coming face to face with the boy she thought she was in love with, only to find out that he and others have been searching for a prophesied woman who can kill the Fae King. I admit that the book could have used a dual narrative from Kane and Arwen's perspective. There was a whole lot going on that we don't get to understand until much later in the book.

1

Ryder and Halden were probably dead.

I wasn't sure what was making me feel sicker, finally admitting that truth to myself or my aching, burning lungs. The misery of the latter was, admittedly, self-induced-this section of my morning run was always the most brutal-but today marked one year since the letters had stopped coming, and while I'd sworn not to think the worst until there was reason to, the epistolary silence was hard to argue with.

My heart gave a miserable thump.

Attempting to slip the unpleasant thoughts under the floorboards of my mind, I focused on making it to the edge of the clearing without vomiting. I pumped my legs, swung my elbows back, and felt my braid land between my shoulder blades, as rhythmic as a drumbeat. Just a few more feet-

Finally reaching the expanse of cool grass, I staggered to a halt, bracing my hands on my knees and inhaling deeply. It smelled like the Kingdom of Amber always did-of morning dew, woodfire from a nearby hearth, and the crisp, earthy notes of slowly decaying leaves.

But deep breaths weren't enough to keep my vision from blurring, and I collapsed backward onto the ground, the weight of my body crushing the leaves beneath me with a satisfying crunch. The clearing was littered with them-the last remnants of winter.

Eighteen months ago, the night before all the men in our town were conscripted to fight for our kingdom, my family had gathered on the grassy knoll just behind our home. We had watched the pink-hued sunset fade like a bruise behind our town of Abbington all together, one last time. Then, Halden and I had snuck away to this very glade and pretended he and my brother, Ryder, weren't leaving.

That they'd be back one day.

The bells chimed in the town square, distant but clear enough to jar me from the melancholy memory. I eased up to sitting, my tangled hair now littered with leaves and twigs. I was going to be late. Again.

Bleeding Stones.

Or-shit. I winced as I stood. I was trying to swear less on the nine Holy Gemstones that made up the continent's core. I didn't care so much about damning the divinity of Evendell's creation, but I hated the force of habit that came from growing up in Amber, the kingdom that worshipped the Stones most devoutly.

I jogged back through the glade, down the path behind our cottage, and toward a town just waking up. As I hurried through alleyways that could barely accommodate two people heading in opposite directions, a depressing thought filtered in. Abbington really used to have more charm.

At least it was charming in my memories. Cobblestone streets once swept clean and sprinkled with street musicians and idle merchants were now strewn with garbage and abandoned. Mismatched brick buildings covered with vines and warmed by flickering lanterns had been reduced to crumbling decay-abandoned, burned, or broken down, if not all three. It was like watching an apple core rot, slowly turning less and less vibrant over time until, one day, it was just gone.

I shivered, both at the thoughts and the weather. Hopefully, the chilly air had dried some of the dampness from my forehead; Nora did not like a sweaty apprentice. As I pushed the creaky door open, ethanol and astringent mint assaulted my nostrils. My favorite scent.

"Arwen, is that you?" Nora called, her voice echoing through the infirmary's hallway. "You're late. Mr. Doyle's gangrene is getting worse. He might lose the finger."

"Lose my what?" a male voice squawked from behind a curtain.

I shot Nora a withering look and slipped inside the makeshift room separated by cotton sheets.

Bleeding Stones.

Mr. Doyle, an elderly bald man who was all forehead and earlobes, was in his bed, cradling his damaged hand like a stolen dessert that someone aimed to take from him.

"Nora's only kidding," I said, pulling up a chair. "That's her fun and very professional sense of humor. I'll make sure all fingers remain attached, I promise."

With a skeptical huff, Mr. Doyle relinquished his hand, and I got to work carefully peeling away the layers of rotting skin.

My ability twitched at my fingertips, eager to help. I wasn't sure I needed it today; I liked the meticulous work, and gangrene was fairly routine.

But I would never forgive myself if I broke my promise to cranky Mr. Doyle.

I covered one hand with the other, as if I didn't want him to see how gruesome his injury was-I had gotten very good at finding ways to sneak my powers into patients. Mr. Doyle closed his eyes and leaned his head back, and I allowed a flicker of pure light to seep from my fingers like juice from a lemon.

The decaying flesh warmed and blushed pink once more, healing before my eyes.

I was a good healer. I had a steady hand, was calm under pressure, and never got squeamish at the sight of someone's insides. But I could also heal in ways that couldn't be taught. My power was a pulsing, erratic light that poured out of my hands and seeped into others, spreading through their veins and vessels. I could fuse a broken bone, give color back to a flu-ravaged face, or stitch a gash closed with no needle.

But it wasn't common witchcraft. I had no witches or warlocks in my family heritage, and even if I had, when I used my powers, there was no uttered spell followed by a flurry of wind and static. Instead, my gift seeped from my body, draining my energy and mind each time. Witches could do endless magic with the right grimoires and tutelage. My abilities would fizzle out if worked too hard, leaving me depleted. Sometimes it could even take days for the power to come back fully.

The first time I exhausted myself on a particularly brutal burn victim, I thought my gift was actually gone for good, leaving me with an inexplicable mix of relief and horror. When it finally returned, I told myself I was grateful. Grateful that when I was growing up and was covered in welts or had limbs cracked at odd angles, I could heal myself before my mother or siblings could notice what my stepfather had done. Grateful that I could help those around me who were suffering. And grateful that I could make a decent amount of coin doing it when times were as tough as they were now.

"All right, Mr. Doyle, good as new."

The older man shot me a toothless grin. "Thank you," he said, before leaning in conspiratorially. "I didn't think you'd be able to save it."

"The lack of faith hurts," I joked.

He moved gingerly out of the room, and I followed him into the hall. Once he was through the front doors, Nora shook her head at me.

"What?"

"Too chipper," she said, but her mouth lifted in a smile.

"It's a relief to have a patient who isn't on death's door." I cringed. Mr. Doyle was actually quite old.

Nora just snorted and refocused on the gauze in her hands. I slunk back over to the cots and busied myself sanitizing some surgical tools. I should have been thrilled with how few patients we had today, but the quiet was making my stomach twist.

Healing took my mind off of my brother and Halden. Helped to quell the misery that churned in my gut at their absence. Like running, there was a meditative quality to healing people that calmed my chattering brain.

Silence did the opposite.

I'd never expected to be thrilled about a case of gangrene, but it seemed like anything that wasn't certain death was a win these days. Most of our patients were soldiers-bloody, bruised, and broken from battle-or neighbors I'd known my entire life, shriveling away from parasites found in the meager food scraps they could get their hands on. That, at least, was a better fate than starvation. Parasites could be healed in the infirmary. Endless hunger, not so much.

And through all this pain and suffering, loved ones lost, homes destroyed-it was still a mystery why the Onyx Kingdom had started a war with us in the first place. Our King Gareth was not one for the historical tomes, and Amber land was not known for anything but its harvest. Meanwhile, kingdoms like Garnet were rich with coin and jewels. The Pearl Mountains had their ancient scrolls and the continent's most sought-after scholars. Even the Opal Territories, with their distilleries and untouched land, or the Peridot Provinces, with their glittering coves filled with hidden treasure, would all have been better places to begin the gradual crawl toward power over all of Evendell. But so far, every other kingdom had been left unscathed, and lone Amber was trying to keep it that way.

Still, no other kingdom fought beside us.

Meanwhile, Onyx was dripping in riches, jewels, and gold. They had the most land, the most stunning cities-or so I had heard-and the biggest army. Even that wasn't enough for them. Onyx's king, Kane Ravenwood, was both imperialistic and insatiable. Worst of all, he was senselessly cruel. Our generals were often found strung up by their limbs, sometimes flayed or crucified. He took and took and took until our meager kingdom had little left to fight with, and then inflicted pain for the sport of it. Cutting us off at the knees, then the elbows, then the ears just for fun.

The only option was to keep looking on the bright side. Even if it was a dim, blurry kind of bright side that you had to bribe and coax to come out. That, Nora had claimed, was why she kept me around. "You have a knack for this, you're optimistic to a fault, and your tits entice the local boys to donate blood."

Thank you, Nora. You're a peach.

I peered up at her, putting away a basket filled with bandages and ointments.

She wasn't the warmest associate, but Nora was one of my mother's closest friends, and despite her prickly exterior, she'd been thoughtful enough to give me this job so I could take care of our family once Ryder left. She even helped with my sister, Leigh, when Mother was too sick to take her to classes.

My smile at Nora's kindness faded as I thought of my mother-she had been too frail to even open her eyes this morning. The irony that I worked as a healer and my mother was slowly dying from an ailment none of us could identify was not lost on me.

Even worse-and maybe more ironic-my abilities had never worked on her. Not even if all she had was a paper cut. Yet another sign that my powers were not that of a common witch, but something far stranger.

My mother had been sick since I was old enough to talk, but it had worsened these past few years. The only things that helped were the little remedies Nora and I put together-concoctions made of the white canna lilies and rhodanthe flowers native to Amber, blended with Ravensara oil and sandalwood. But the relief was temporary, and her pain grew worse each day.

I physically shook my head to rattle the unpleasantness away.

I couldn't focus on that now. The only thing that mattered was taking care of her and my sister as best I could, now that Ryder was gone.

And might never be coming back.


”No, you didn’t hear me right! I didn’t say he was cute, I said he was astute. Like, smart or worldly,” Leigh said, throwing a log on the dwindling hearth fire. I bit back a laugh and pulled three small bowls from the cupboard.

"Mhm, right. I just think you have a little crush, that's all."

Leigh rolled her pale blue eyes as she turned around our tiny kitchen gathering cutlery and mugs. Our house was small and rickety, but I loved it with my whole heart. It smelled like Ryder's tobacco, the vanilla we used for baking, and fragrant white lilies. Leigh's sketches hung on almost every wall. Every time I walked in our front door, a smile tugged at my lips. Perched on a little hill overlooking most of Abbington and with three well-insulated, cozy rooms, it was one of the nicer houses in our village. My stepfather, Powell, had built it for my mother and me before my siblings were born. The kitchen was my favorite place to sit, the wooden table put together by Powell and Ryder one summer back when we were all young and Mother was healthier.

It was uncanny, the warm memories tied to the bones of our home in such contrast to those that swam in my head, in my stomach, when I thought of Powell's stern face and clenched jaw. The scars on my back from his belt.

I shuddered.

Leigh squeezed in beside me, jarring me from cobwebbed memories and handing over a bundle of roots and herbs for Mother's medication.

"Here. We don't have any rosemary left."

I peered down at her blonde head and a warmth bloomed in me-she was always radiant, even with the misery of wartime that surrounded us. Joyful, funny, bold.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Nothing," I said, biting back a smile. She was just starting to see herself as a grown-up and no longer tolerated being treated like a kid. Loving stares of adoration from her older sister were clearly not allowed. She liked it even less when I tried to protect her.

I swallowed hard, throwing the herbs into the bubbling pot over our hearth.

Recently, rumors had been swirling in the taverns, schools, and markets. The men were all gone now-Ryder and Halden had likely given their lives-and we were still losing to the wicked kingdom in the north.

The women would have to be next.

It wasn't that we couldn't do what the men could. I had heard the Onyx Kingdom's army was filled with strong, ruthless women who fought alongside the men. I just couldn't do it. Couldn't take someone's life for my kingdom, couldn't fight for my own. The thought of leaving Abbington at all raised the hair on the back of my neck.

It was Leigh I worried about. She was too fearless.

Her youth made her think she was invincible, and her hunger for attention made her loud, risky, and brave to the point of recklessness. The thought of her golden curls bouncing onto the front lines made my stomach twist.

If that wasn't bad enough, both of us being carted off to fight against Onyx meant Mother would be left alone. Too old and frail to fight, she might avoid the draft but wouldn't be able to take care of herself. With all three of her children gone, she wouldn't last a week.

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#Review - Silence and Shadow by Erin Beaty #YA #Fantasy #Mystery #Suspense

Series: Blood and Moonlight (#2)
Format: Hardcover, 464 pages
Release Date: October 3, 2023
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)
Source: Publisher
Genre: Young Adult / Fantasy / Epic

In this unforgettable sequel to the fantasy thriller Blood and Moonlight, sizzling romance, dangerous magic, and deadly secrets collide when Catrin and Simon face a cunning new serial killer who threatens to tear them apart.

Forced to flee for their lives after an explosive confrontation with a depraved killer, Selenae novice Catrin and brilliant criminal profiler Simon arrive in the sprawling city of Londunium, hoping for a fresh start and an opportunity for Catrin to hone her newfound magic. To avoid raising suspicion, they pretend to be a married couple, but don’t expect to keep up the ruse for long. Until a ruthless council of magical leaders at the local Selenae university discover Catrin's forbidden “marriage” to an outsider and threaten to erase Simon’s memories to protect their secrets.

Terrified to lose each other, Catrin and Simon take desperate steps to keep him safe, like playing the parts of husband and wife for longer than they had anticipated. But when a string of bodies turns up in the woods outside the city, and Simon is recruited to profile the killer, Catrin is pulled back into a world of murder, mayhem, and magic . . . 

Erin Beaty's Silence and Shadow is the second and apparent final installment in the authors Blood and Moonlight duology. Forced to flee for their lives after an explosive confrontation with a depraved killer in the first installment, Selenae novice Catrin who is just learning about her abilities, and brilliant criminal profiler Simon of Mesanus who is now a fugitive, arrive in the sprawling city of Londunium, hoping for a fresh start and an opportunity for Catrin to hone her newfound magic. 

 

To avoid raising suspicion, they pretend to be a married couple, but don’t expect to keep up the ruse for long. After Cat is attacked by a man who stalked them, they end up befriending a man named Martin who is local law enforcement. It seems as though dozens of innocent men and women have been murder, and with Simon's background of understanding the minds of killers, he is the prefect partner for Martin to try and solve what is happening and who is to blame. 

 

With Cat's help, the group gets entangled in a deeply troubling mystery that may point to the people that Cat is trying to learn from. Cat is sometimes looked down upon because she's half Selenae, but with a bit of pushing by her would be instructors like Hespera, Catrin may end up being extremely powerful unless the ruthless council of magical leaders at the local Selenae university takes away her relationship with Simon while erasing Simon’s memories of Cat and their true love.

It is fair to say that even when pushed to her limits by the thoughts of being separated from Simon, Cat seems to have really come into her own being. She's more confident, and more determined to do what's right even if it means she loses her powers in an effort to help find out who is murdering dozens of men and women and leaving them in a variety of states mimicking former Gods and Goddess that were once the centerpiece of this civilization. She fights tooth and nail against her would be teachers and council members who seem to be keeping their own secrets. 

 

And, even though she is far from home, she didn't forget the man who supported her when she needed it to find his former wife and  daugher who are living in the city. This story is party mystery, party suspense, and part romance between Cat and Simon which is pretty unbreakable even after all the challenges they face. Some curious twists also occur and you have to really pay attention to who you can trust, and who would gladly steal your powers, and leave you a shadow of your former self.

 

At this point, I do not think this series needs another novel. The ending wraps up nicely, and all the key storylines are wrapped up.  

HAPTER 1


I know the moment something is wrong.

Simon’s hand grips mine with a sudden intensity, but it’s not a squeeze for my attention or an expression of affection. It’s urgent with an edge of fear.

His movements haven’t indicated we need to flee, though, which means I shouldn’t react. We’re standing off to the side of an open area where several streets intersect, watching a group of children perform a traditional dance, their ribbons on the ends of sticks more or less in sync with the festival music and each other. Not one child is over eight years old, so they must have practiced several weeks for this amount of coordination.

Simon isn’t looking at me or the colorful celebration, however. His eyes are narrowed at something across the square.

Trying not to be obvious, I lean into his side, close enough to feel the hum of magick coming from the bloodstones in his pocket. Their focused energy makes my skin numb, so he usually carries them for me. “What is it?”

“That man.” Simon replies in a much lower voice, but we’re standing in the shadow of a three-story building so I can hear him clearly.

I follow his line of sight over the crowd. With the Solstice festival celebrating the longest and holiest day of the year, outsiders are common as sparrows, which works both to our advantage and disadvantage. We’d arrived on the island of Brinsulli several days ago, then traveled to the capital city of Londunium on foot. The journey to the coast of Gallia from Collis was much faster—traveling at night on horses we then sold to buy passage across the Narrow Sea. It’s not likely any word about Simon as a fugitive has reached Brinsulli, let alone Londunium, in those three weeks, especially as he’s believed to be dead, but there’s always a chance he’ll be recognized. His unusual eyes—light blue with a wedge of brown in the left—are impossible to hide.

“The one in the gray tunic and black cap,” Simon whispers.

I find the man. His blond hair hangs in greasy strings over his forehead, and his sallow skin glistens with a sheen of sweat. Something has him agitated, and he rubs his hands in a washing motion almost compulsively. I have to speak much louder for Simon to hear me, so I stand on my toes to put my mouth closer to his ear as I pretend to watch the dance again. “Has he been staring at you?”

“No. He keeps looking around the crowd. Stopped on you twice.”

That doesn’t make any sense. “How is that a problem?”

“Because he’s searching for a target. Someone easy and worth the effort.” Simon pauses. “Third look. He thinks you have potential, but you’re fine as long as you’re with me.”

“Are you sure?” No one would take Simon for a fighter—he’s as thin as a garden rake and stands in a way that takes up little space. I grimace as I peek at the man again before putting my chin on Simon’s shoulder. “No offense, but he could probably overpower you.”

He doesn’t argue with that. “Yes, but two against one is riskier, especially when we look like a couple who might fight to protect each other. He’ll go for an easier mark, especially with as many as he could find here.”

“So why are you worried?” I ask, tucking my travel bag firmly between us. “There’s probably a half dozen other thieves in the square with the same mindset.”

Simon finally allows himself to glance down at me. “Because he’s not just a pickpocket. He’s got violence on his mind, too. It’s in his eyes, in his movements.”

I don’t have to ask how he can read the man’s intentions. Simon spent six years recording the work of a man determined to understand the motivations of criminals—mostly the violently insane kind—as well as how they chose their victims. In Collis, he used that absorbed knowledge to find the murderer of several women. A murderer who happened to be his cousin.

“Perhaps his last robbery or two drew blood.” Simon turns his gaze back to the crowd as he continues. “Maybe unexpectedly. But he liked the thrill and sense of power it gave him.”

“And now he wants to feel that way again,” I finish. “Theft isn’t what drives him anymore.”

Simon nods once. “He’s wondering what it would be like to actually kill someone. With all the noise and commotion today, he could probably get away with it.”

I study the crowd, which has over a dozen women and older men who would be easy to force into an alley or empty building. One of them was going to become the man’s victim unless we did something. “Well, then.” I pull away and heft my travel bag onto my shoulder. “We should separate so he comes after me rather than someone else.”

“What?” Simon’s blue eyes widen. “Cat, no—that’s a terrible idea.”

I expected his objection, and I’m not angry, though I act like it. “You don’t think I can defend myself?”

He refuses to play along, shaking his head. “The two of us can’t take him down. You just pointed out he could probably overpower me, and he undoubtedly has a knife.”

“Then get help.” I use only my eyes to point to another corner of the square where two red-haired men sit on horseback, watching over the festivities. One of the first things we’d done on arriving in Brinsulli was identify those charged with law enforcement, so we knew who to avoid. “There’s two of those reeves over there. The ones with the gold braid on their shoulders.”

Simon hardly spares them a glance. “Why would they listen to me? I’m a stranger.”

“Yes, but protecting people is their job. Pretend you’re worried about my safety. Be persuasive.”

“I wouldn’t have to pretend.” He catches my elbow as I start to walk away, the first signs of anger on his pale face. “I can’t let you do this.”

“Can’t let me?” I tear my arm from his hold. “You aren’t actually my husband, Simon. You have no right to tell me what to do.”

“Stop it, Cat,” he snaps. “I know this is for show. We’ll figure out another way to stop him.” Simon reaches for me again.

I dodge his grasp. “There’s no time. He’s watching us now, isn’t he?”

Simon’s eyes flash over my shoulder, and he clenches his jaw so hard a vein bulges from his neck. “Yes. He’s already coming closer.”

“Then hurry. I’ll head toward the river.”

His expression almost breaks my resolve. “Please don’t do this,” he whispers.

I take a step backward. “Keep talking. I’ll listen for you.”

And I whirl around and disappear into the crowd.

* * *

My silver voidstone bracelet is in my bag, and I dig inside as I storm away, staying in.ade of awnings and buildings as much as possible so the sun can’t wash away the magick constantly provided by the moonstone around my neck. As soon as my fingers touch the smooth, black stone, I push all my senses but hearing into its bottomless depths. Smell isn’t that much of a loss, especially surrounded by sweaty bodies and waste-filled alleys, but reducing touch makes me stumble when my foot hits the street with less force than I anticipate. Enhanced sight will probably come in handy, but I need to focus on what I can hear more, so I only reduce it by about half. I can still see better than everyone around me, but now none of those voided senses can come back until I see the moon, which won’t rise for several hours.

I strain to listen for footsteps behind me, but there are many, and I stop for a second to reclose my bag and hoist it back onto my shoulder. The pause allows me to pick out the gait that halts and resumes when I do. His breathing is then easy to connect to the steps. Beneath is a rapid, excited heartbeat. I have him.

The streets ahead are lined with shops and stalls, but the crowds are already thinning out. Beyond, the city docks on the tidal river are nearly empty of workers and sailors. It is a holiday, after all. I’ve overestimated how long it will be before I’m isolated enough to be at risk, so I slow my pace and pause at a fruit stand. When I turn, I’m careful to keep my expression annoyed, like the argument with Simon is still on my mind rather than the look in his eyes. He was terrified. I try to tell myself that’s better, because then his urgency in getting help will be genuine.

In the corner of my vision, the blond man also stops, pretending to admire a display of colorful scarves embroidered with golden suns. He’s shorter than me by at least an inch but stockier than I’d realized. My fingers unconsciously itch for my belt, where not long ago I carried a hammer—ostensibly for work at the construction site, but really to smash hands that had a tendency to reach into my skirt as I went by. The master architect always sided with me, even when I actually broke fingers. I don’t have a way to defend myself now.

“See anything you like?” The merchant behind the counter startles me out of my thoughts.

I decide another minute is worth parting with a few coins. “How much for the apples?” I ask. It’s too early in the season for most varieties, but he has a few green ones.

The man names a price, and I’m so nervous I can’t make the conversion to know if it’s a fair sum or I’m being robbed. It’s probably too much; my Gallian-style clothes practically shout that I’m a foreigner. Rather than haggle, I rummage into my bag, making a show of reaching to the very bottom to fish out the smaller of my purses. No sense in attracting the attention of any other thieves who might be watching by showing how much I really carry. Then I deliberately offer slightly less than the seller said, thinking to drag the interaction out. “Is this enough?”

Either I miscounted what I hold or he expected me to talk him down, because he accepts the coins and sweeps his other hand over the fruit. “Take your pick.”

I make a show of selecting a plump one with a more golden hue, then rub it on my sleeve until the skin shines before biting into it. The intense flavor brings tears to my eyes as I chew and then swallow. “Tart,” I manage to say around pinched lips.

He chuckles like he was waiting for my reaction. “Sweeter ones won’t be ready for a month.”

“Of course.” I thank him and move on, noting that my shadow also continues. I nibble at the apple’s almost transparent flesh as I walk. The flavor isn’t actually that bad, just strong and unexpected. It was harder to void taste when it wasn’t in active use.

The streets are progressively less populated, but it’s still a rather public area. I need to act like I have a destination, so I stop a passerby to ask the way to the nearest inn. His drunken answer is hardly coherent, but I go in the direction he points since it’s south, toward the river, as I said I’d go.

“Cat, where are you?” Simon’s voice calls from somewhere behind me. No one else around would be able to distinguish it from crowd noise at this distance, but I can. “We’re coming.”

We’re coming. He’s found someone. There’s no way I can answer him, but knowing he’s on his way bolsters my courage.

Now to set a trap.

I stay on the right side of the street and in the shade, glancing down alleys as I pass to get a feel for what they’re like here. Not much different from Collis—often narrow enough for me to touch both walls with my arms outstretched. Buildings on either side are rough stone at the base and patchy plaster above with occasional wooden beams. Excellent for climbing up, though it will be more difficult in my long skirt. He won’t expect me to try, though.

The man’s footsteps are closer, and the brackish smell of the Tamse River is stronger. There will be more people around when I reach the docks, so he won’t wait much longer. I strain to hear Simon. The apple is still distractingly tart, but he’s saying my name just loud enough.

“Catrin, Catrin, Catrin…”

Then another voice, very close to him. “I see a girl with dark hair ahead. Is it braided, going well down her back?”

“Yes.” Simon’s answer to whoever is with him is louder, and relieved. “Dark brown skirt and tan jacket.”

“That’s her, then. There’s a man right behind her—”

I’m so focused on listening that I step into the sunlight and miss the heavy footfalls right behind me, sudden and rushed. A meaty hand over my mouth smothers my scream, and I’m yanked backward into an alley between two houses.

Before I can put up much of a struggle, I’m slammed against a wall so hard the back of my head whiplashes into the stone. I swear I can feel my brain hit the inside of my skull and the world spins even as I’m held upright by a hand at my throat.

With one hand gripping my neck, however, my attacker has to back away and reach for his belt with the other. I flail and kick, managing to connect one boot-clad foot with his knee and my forearm knocks the knife out of his hand before he has a good grip on it. He swears and drops me to retrieve his weapon. I fall to my knees, clutching my neck and coughing.

It’s darker in here than I would’ve expected at this time of day, but that’s actually to my advantage. My magick was fully restored the instant I was out of the sun, and I can hear again.

“Wait, I’ve lost her.”

“Cat!” Simon shouts in panic. “Where did you go?”

I lurch to my feet, reaching for the wall—my escape—and my fingers find holds as one foot braces against a stone to lift myself higher until I’m violently yanked back down by my braid. I try to scream as I hit the packed dirt, but nothing comes out, and I croak helplessly as my attacker drags me deeper into the gloom by my thick hair, his retrieved knife at my throat. He pulls me around a corner, out of view from the street, where no one can see us.

Sun and skies, this was a mistake.


CHAPTER 2


At first I hope my attacker will look through my bag or search me for jewelry before anything else, but Simon was right. Violence is what he wants now.

He props me up against the wall and presses his dirty hand against my mouth as he kneels over me. Some strength is returning to my limbs, but with his blade pressing my windpipe I don’t resist.

The way he smiles is terrifying. Tears in my eyes are half from pain, half from fear. Why can’t I hear Simon anymore?

Light on the man’s shoulder tells me why. The sun is shining into this angle of the alley, on my lower legs, which are exposed by the skirt that has lifted to my knees. Even that small amount on my skin is enough to overpower the magick provided by the moonstone on my neck.

“You’re prettier than I thought,” he whispers. “Spirited, too. Were you going to climb all the way to the roof?”

He’s taunting me, not realizing I could have made it out of his reach if I’d had a few more seconds. The knife slides sideways to lift the necklace off my skin. “Is this real silver?”

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#Review - Fused in Earth and Stone by Sandy Williams #Fantasy

Series: Kennedy Rain # 3
Format: Kindle, 339 pages
Release Date: October 3, 2023
Publisher: Sandy Williams
Source: Amazon
Genre: Urban Fantasy

Kennedy knew challenging the power-players of the supernatural world would come at a cost, but she always thought she’d be the one to pay the price.

When Kennedy dares to open The Rain’s doors to unsanctioned paranorms, she sets off a chain of events that will test her determination like never before. As retribution, the ruthless master vampire, Arcuro, captures one of Kennedy’s closest allies. Despite the advice from those around her, she refuses to let Arcuro’s actions go unanswered.

Kennedy must navigate the politics of the paranormal world to form new alliances, but one tiny misstep could result in disaster, and one small act of indiscretion might reveal feelings Kennedy has tried so hard to ignore. If she wanted to play it safe, she would stay away from Blake and his teasing smiles. Unfortunately, she’ll need his help to have any chance to free her friend.

With doubts chipping away at her confidence and old enemies resurfacing, Kennedy comes up with a risky plan. Can she outwit the cunning master vampire? Or will her resolve to undermine him lead her down a treacherous path, putting The Rain and everyone around her in jeopardy?

Fused in Earth and Stone, by Sandy Williams, is the third installment in the authors Kennedy Rain series. This book picks up right where Bound by Bloodsong finished. For protagonist Kennedy Rain, it has been 3 months since her parents were brutally murdered by a devious witch leaving her as the only Rain left alive. Since then, Kennedy has discovered who was to blame, and has pretty much gone to war against the Vampires led by Arcuro, and the Werewolves led by Octavian Lehr. 

If you have not read this series yet, here is a summary of events. The Rain Hotel is the only known null zone on the planet. It’s a place where vampires can see the sun rise and werewolves can avoid the lure of the full moon. Once not too long ago, Kennedy, who is human, turned her back the family business trying to live a normal human life while going to college. But then her parents never returned from a business trip, and the Rain ended up under her direction. She has a staff of paranorms who made contracts to stay with the Rain until contracts were fulfilled. 

She has a former vampire enforcer, Jared, living in her hotel. She has the daugher of the Alpha Werewolf, Nora, now considered to be a stray because of her marriage to Jared. She has two Valkyries in Phedra and Thords who try to keep Kennedy out of trouble even though she clearly has other wishes when she goes looking for ways to payback those response for her parents murders. Even though she's been ordered to reopen the Rain to guests, she refuses until she can discover the truth about the Rain's arrangements with the paranormal community.

With the inn still closed, Kennedy realizes she needs to do something to open the hotel, and allows any unsanctioned paranorms that are willing to put their names on a list that she puts up, without the approval the Lehr (or Arcuro). A number of wolves enter the hotel, which sets off a chain of events. After the ruthless master vampire, Arcuro, captures one of Kennedy’s closest allies, Daegan, she makes plans to strike back. Despite the advice from those around her, included Jared, Nora, Christian, and Blake, she refuses to let Arcuro’s actions go unanswered.

Along with Christian and Astrid, the last remaining witch in a powerful coven, Kennedy tries to contact two very powerful vampires trying to get their help in overthrowing Arcuro and rescuing one of Jared's loyal vampires. One of the more curious aspects of this series has been the relationship between Kennedy and Blake. Blake, it seems, has been punished for his relationship with her, and his protective nature. There's not been any hint of a romance yet, but could it be on the horizon? What's even more serious is that none of Kennedy's human friends know about the Rain, or the danger they face if they learn about the paranormal world.

*Thoughts* This story is action packed from the first page to the last. One of the more curious aspects of this series is the ease of travel to such places as New Orleans and Austin, Texas where Kennedy hopes to find new allies. What's even more curious is the amount of time and money that is spent traveling while the Rain is up to its ears in bills that must be paid now that Kennedy's parents have left behind a mess for her to clean up. I don't mind Kennedy, but I really wish she would take some suggestions now and then before she finds herself without any allies or friends, including her human friends who have no idea of the danger Kennedy is facing. Finally, it is pretty apparent that a 4th book is needed to find out what happens next. I fear more bloodshed is on the horizon.   

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#Review - Catch Her Death by Melinda Leigh #Thrillers #Suspense

Series: Bree Taggert (#7)
Format: Hardcover, 304 pages
Release Date: September 12, 2023
Publisher: ‎Montlake
Source: Publisher
Genre: Thrillers / Suspense

Sheriff Bree Taggert and those she loves become the target of a family’s deadly revenge in a chilling novel of suspense by #1 Amazon Charts and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Melinda Leigh.

After Sheriff Bree Taggert’s takedown of cold-blooded murderer Travis Ekin, his family vows revenge. Travis’s mother and brothers are every bit as violent, and Bree is in their crosshairs.

To complicate matters, Bree’s best friend, Dana Romano, walks into her date’s home and finds him shot in the chest. Dana tangles with an unidentified intruder, but he escapes through the back door. The crime scene is in another police department’s jurisdiction, and the lead investigator focuses on Dana as the prime suspect.

While Bree and investigator Matt Flynn work off the books to clear Dana, Bree’s family receives deadly threats. A second dead body and a shocking piece of evidence link the two cases. Bree and Matt must find the killer fast—before either case takes another deadly turn.

Melinda Leigh's Catch Her Death is the Seventh installment in the authors Bree Taggert series. Randolph County Sheriff Bree Taggert is back on the job and feeling the pressure. First, after Bree’s takedown of cold-blooded murderer Travis Ekin, his family vows revenge. Travis’s mother and brothers are every bit as violent, and Bree is in their crosshairs. To complicate matters, Bree’s best friend, Dana Romano who retired to live in Grey's Hollow with Bree to help raise her sisters kids, walks into her date’s home and finds him shot in the chest.

Dana, who was a Philadelphia police officer & Detective for 25 years, tangles with an unidentified intruder, but he escapes through the back door. The crime scene is in another police department’s jurisdiction, and the lead investigator focuses on Dana as the prime suspect. With Dana recovering from a concussion, threats to the family, a drug bust, another body and a missing dementia senior who may have witnessed a serious crime, Bree and Matt have their hands full.  

Bree and Matt must find the killer fast—before either case takes another deadly turn or someone Bree loves is caught in the crossfire. Bree also has a personal issue to deal with. After years of being a cop, and after solving the murder of her sister ending up as Sheriff, she now has to figure it any of it has been worth it. After all, Bree has dozens of enemies who are eager to get rid of her and install some one who is a corrupt as the former Sheriff.

*Thoughts* So, this book actually starts out with the introduction of a new character named Deputy Laurie Collins. Laurie and her new dog partner Greta have successfully completed K-9 training and are now on the job thanks to some finagling by Bree. Greta ends up being one of the stars of this book along with Dana. Dana has become a major part of Bree's extended family which also includes Matt Flynn, her brother Aaron, and his family. Dana getting a chance at happy with Matt’s retired MMA fighting older brother Nolan during a tough, vulnerable time for Dana.  Bree is super good at her job, but she still has step-back moments when she feels the vulnerability of finally having a love life and family. Especially when it comes to Luke and Kayla whose mother was murdered a year ago.

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