Tag: Fantasy

Book Review

Shadow and Son by Gretchen Powell Fox

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Shadow and Son by Gretchen Powell Fox is the epic conclusion to the Shattered Crown trilogy, bringing Elyria Lightbreaker, Cedric Thorne, and their unlikely band of allies into one final confrontation that will determine the future of Arcanis. Picking up immediately after the devastating cliffhanger of Splintered Kingdom, Elyria is still imprisoned by Malakar, while Cedric is determined to bring her home. With ancient magic causing all kinds of trouble, political tensions escalating, and old loyalties being tested, the characters must draw on everything they’ve learned throughout the trilogy to confront an enemy whose ambitions threaten everything they’ve fought to protect.

Book cover for Shadow and Son by Gretchen Powell Fox.

In darkness and in daylight, in peace and in ruin. What you carry, I carry. What you become, we become.

Gretchen Powell Fox, Shadow and Son

I thought Shadow and Son started exactly where it needed to. The violation of Elyria’s body at the end of Splintered Kingdom was one of the most shocking moments of the entire series, particularly because her wings are such a fundamental expression of her fae identity. Seeing her isolated, weakened, and at Malakar’s mercy is especially unsettling when we’ve come to know her as such a fiercely independent character. The first of the novel’s four parts deals with the immediate fallout of that cliffhanger, and I appreciated that Fox gives those events the attention they deserve before moving into the larger conflict. Cedric’s desperation to find Elyria is palpable, and their eventual reunion is enormously satisfying. From the second part onward, the story shifts into the epic conclusion we’ve been anticipating, bringing together the characters, alliances, and magical discoveries established throughout the trilogy.

I’ve said in my reviews of both previous books — Smoke and Scar and Splintered Kingdom — that Cedric has one of my favorite character arcs, and Shadow and Son brings that journey to a wonderfully satisfying conclusion. When we first meet him, he’s a dutiful knight whose entire worldview has been shaped by Lord Church, the very person responsible for perpetuating so much of the hatred and violence that Cedric eventually learns to reject. Watching him dismantle those inherited beliefs, confront the lies on which his identity was built, and gradually discover who he wants to be has been one of the greatest gifts of this series. His transformation isn’t simply about overcoming prejudice; it’s about recognizing that the systems and people he once trusted were fundamentally wrong and developing the courage to imagine something better. And look how far he’s come! From an obedient soldier to a powerful magic wielder, a loving partner, and eventually the ruler of a kingdom! Our boy really is the people’s princess!

Before you, without you, I was drowning. You brought me back to life, and were I faced with eons in this world alone or a single day together, I would choose you every time.

Gretchen Powell Fox, Shadow and Son

Elyria’s journey is equally rewarding, particularly because her circumstances force her to confront vulnerability in a way she rarely has before. She’s spent much of the series relying on herself, but the relationships she’s forged become essential to her ability to survive, recover, and reclaim her strength. I love that her development doesn’t require her to abandon the irreverent, reckless personality that makes her so entertaining. Instead, she’s learned that independence and accepting help aren’t mutually exclusive. That emphasis on connection also makes the found family aspect especially meaningful in this final installment of the series. Fox has assembled an impressively large cast of memorable characters, and I was delighted to see Tristan, Nox, Thraigg, Jocelyn, and the others working together. I would happily read an entire spinoff about Nox, whose story seems especially ripe for further exploration. But more importantly, I would like to renew my request for a Tristan novella! I adore that man and spent an unreasonable amount of time worrying about his survival. Thankfully, he emerges from the finale relatively intact. Not unscathed, exactly. Let’s call it moderately scathed. But I’ll take it!

One of Fox’s greatest strengths throughout the trilogy has been her vivid imagery and richly developed worldbuilding. Arcanis is remarkably easy to visualize, from its landscapes and architecture to the distinctive appearances of its inhabitants. But what impresses me even more is how thoughtfully the world supports the series’ larger examination of power, identity, and prejudice. The divisions between humans and fae are sustained by generations of inherited beliefs, political manipulation, and systems designed to preserve existing hierarchies. Malakar’s treatment of Elyria makes the consequences of that desire for domination horrifyingly literal, reducing her body and magic to resources he believes he’s entitled to exploit. And Cedric’s transformation offers a compelling counterpoint, demonstrating that breaking cycles of oppression requires more than defeating those in power. It also means challenging the beliefs and institutions that enabled their cruelty in the first place. I appreciate that these ideas are woven into the characters’ personal journeys rather than simply presented as abstract political conflicts.

I don’t think anyone in the history of this wretched world has ever loved another person as much as I do you.

Gretchen Powell Fox, Shadow and Son

The final battle is everything I hoped it would be, bringing together the characters and conflicts that Fox has carefully developed across three books. Series finales can easily become underwhelming after so much anticipation, but I found both the confrontation and its resolution satisfying. The ending gives the characters room to appreciate how far they’ve come while providing a sense of closure that feels earned.

On a personal note, I feel especially fortunate to have followed this trilogy from its beginning. I discovered Gretchen Powell Fox through a post on Threads looking for ARC readers for Smoke and Scar, which she pitched as a subversion of some of my favorite romantasy tropes. I applied, received an advance copy, and absolutely loved it. It was such a refreshing take on familiar fantasy conventions that I couldn’t wait to return to Arcanis. So I was thrilled to receive an ARC of Splintered Kingdom and incredibly touched when Gretchen included me in the acknowledgments section. Getting to read the ARC for this final installment feels like a particularly special ending to this journey. There’s something remarkable about watching a story develop from a clever reimagining of familiar tropes into such an expansive examination of identity, belonging, power, and the possibility of change. Ending a beloved series is no easy feat, especially when readers have become so invested in the characters and their futures. But Shadow and Son delivers a conclusion that feels both emotionally rewarding and true to the larger story Fox set out to tell. I’m sad to say goodbye to this world, but so happy that Gretchen Powell Fox created it and shared it with us all.

Thank you to the author, Gretchen Powell Fox, as well as NetGalley and Scarlett Press, for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

Damned If I Do by Alexandria Bellefleur

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Damned If I Do by Alexandria Bellefleur is a paranormal romance where a centuries-old demon discovers she is still technically married to the husband she left behind in sixteenth-century Scotland, which is a problem considering she’s now engaged to a prince from Hell. To fix it, Effie has to track down Finn, who has been reincarnated over and over again with no memory of their marriage, and convince him to renounce their vows. Except Finn takes one look at this strange woman who has walked into his bar and feels immediately, inexplicably drawn to her. Effie, meanwhile, has the slightly bigger problem of Finn looking exactly like the man she has spent centuries trying not to mourn.

Book cover for Damned If I Do by Alexandria Bellefleur.

Just like heartbreak was death by a thousand cuts, love was a million little moments that together made the feeling what it was.

Alexandria Bellefleur, Damned If I Do

This was such a fun, sexy read, but I think what I liked most was the melancholy underneath all of it. I have a soft spot for stories about the afterlife (especially ones that get into what it might actually mean to exist beyond the life you were supposed to have). Effie made a deal with the devil, and now she’s had centuries to live with that choice. She’s prickly, resigned, and fully avoiding her feelings about everything she lost to get where she is. As a result, she has this sad goth girl energy to her that’s actually perfect for a spooky season read.

Finn exudes his own version of that loneliness. He’s spent lifetime after lifetime searching for connection without ever understanding why nothing quite fits. His soul is tied to someone who isn’t even on the mortal plane, so of course he can travel and meet all kinds of people, yet still feel like he’s looking for something he can’t name. The book also contains an interlude chapter showing us more about his background, and I have to say I love the placement because it comes right when you think you know how all the pieces on this chessboard are arranged. We also find out just how desperately he’s sought connection all his life. We love a lover boy, but more importantly, we love a man who yearns, and Finn has apparently been yearning across multiple lifetimes.

Everyone talks about sparks, but he’s holding out for a love that sets his soul on fire.

Alexandria Bellefleur, Damned If I Do

That also made the way Effie and Finn are reluctantly pulled toward each other incredibly satisfying. On top of that, their chemistry and banter are great, the spicy scenes will have you melting because they’re so deliciously sexy, and it was just ridiculously easy to root for them. Also worth noting is that the book explicitly states Finn is bisexual! It comes up naturally through his history, but the book names it clearly rather than leaving his attraction to men somewhere in subtext, so I really appreciated the intentional bi visibility.

I also loved the small-town setting around Effie and Finn. There’s something weirdly charming about putting all the eternal bureaucracy, demons, soul bargains, and general badness of Hell next to a lovable little Georgia town (the Devil went down to Georgia, yall!). Somehow that combination gives the story an almost cozy quality despite, y’know, Hell. I also enjoyed that this story picks up from events at the end of The Devil She Knows by Alexandria Bellefleur. You don’t need that story for this one to work, but it is a fun little Easter egg for anyone already familiar with this universe.

She’d hardly known she was starving until she wasn’t.

Alexandria Bellefleur, Damned If I Do

Mostly, I’m just very into what Bellefleur is doing with this world. Damned If I Do has soulmates, demons, small-town charm, some very delectable spice, and several centuries’ worth of unresolved romantic yearning. I don’t know about you, but that’s an extremely effective combination for me. Fingers crossed Bellefleur treats us to more stories from this universe. (I’d love to see one for Belphegor and the mess that he is…just saying!)

Thank you to NetGalley and Berkley for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

The Gods Will Sing Our Song by Autumn Krause

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The Gods Will Sing Our Song by Autumn Krause is a YA historical fantasy romance about two Japanese American teenagers, Ren and Violet, who are imprisoned in an internment camp during World War II. Against this devastating backdrop, they find themselves drawn to one another while confronting uncertain futures and a strange magic tied to their cultural heritage. Both are living through a moment that has stripped away so much of their freedom, dignity, and safety. And yet, they are still teenagers who fall for each other, dream about what comes next, and find moments of beauty within circumstances designed to deny them exactly that.

Book cover for The Gods Will Sing Our Song by Autumn Krause.

Magic, in this city of oranges and opportunity, is like that big black dot you see after looking at the sun. It’s the aftereffect of something brilliant, a negative image that’s dwindled over time.

Autumn Krause, The Gods Will Sing Our Song

One of the things I appreciated most about this book is how approachable it makes this history without ever making it feel less horrific. I knew about the internment of Japanese Americans during WWII, but I realized while reading that I couldn’t think of another novel I had read centered on it. Whether that says something about my own reading or about how few of these stories reach a wide audience, I’m not sure. Either way, this feels like such an important entry point. Krause gives us a story we can move through within the covers of a single novel while still asking us to sit with how something this unconscionable was allowed to happen at all.

Part of what makes all of this work so well is Krause’s prose. Her writing is so vivid and distinctive that there were moments I had to stop just to appreciate the images she created. At one point, Ren thinks, “I’m going to punch him in the mouth and watch his teeth drop like autumn leaves,” and I have genuinely not stopped thinking about it. The gruesomeness of that potential violence juxtaposed with something as beautiful and inevitable as falling autumn leaves? What an image! And that’s just one example. That kind of unexpected juxtaposition happens again and again, giving the writing this gorgeous sharpness even when the story itself is painful.

If you understand only your own side and cannot grasp the other, I fear you can’t say you know either one, yours or theirs.”

Autumn Krause, The Gods Will Sing Our Song

I also loved the yearning between Ren and Violet. Their romance is incredibly sweet, even as they live through something so dehumanizing and terrifying. They’re teenagers who want to flirt, fall in love, spend time together, and imagine what their lives might look like in the future. There’s something important about how familiar those desires feel. History can flatten people into what happened to them, especially when we’re looking back at an atrocity from decades ago. But we understand what it’s like to have a crush, to wonder if someone likes us back, to imagine a future we haven’t lived yet. And that recognition closes some of the distance between reader and history. Alongside the profound violations of freedom, dignity, safety, and autonomy, the novel reminds us of all the ordinary, deeply human parts of a life that internment disrupted, too.

Knowing that Krause drew from her own family’s experiences made the story even more affecting for me. There is something so powerful about taking an inherited family history this painful and turning it into a story that can carry those experiences forward. These histories deserve to be remembered, especially when forgetting makes it easier to distance ourselves from how something like this was even allowed to happen in the first place. I thought Krause honored the people who lived through internment while still asking difficult questions about the fear, racism, and failures that made it possible.

Some people go to war out of hate. But some people go to war out of love.

Autumn Krause, The Gods Will Sing Our Song

My one real wish is that we had gotten more of the fantasy and mythology. The gods, relics, and culturally rooted magic were such a compelling way into Japanese traditions, and I would have loved to see that part of the story developed even further. At the same time, I understand how much the novel is already balancing between its historical, romantic, and fantastical elements. Mostly, I wanted more because I was so interested in what was already there.

Overall, The Gods Will Sing Our Song is a triumph! It finds beauty without romanticizing its history, hope without diminishing the horror, and tenderness in a story about people whose humanity was so profoundly disregarded. It makes this history approachable without making it easy, and I’m incredibly glad I got to read it.

Thank you to NetGalley and Delacorte Press for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

Every Exquisite Thing by Laura Steven

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Every Exquisite Thing by Laura Steven is a sapphic young adult dark academia retelling of The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. (There’s NO WAY I could resist a premise like that!) The novel follows Penny Paxton, who arrives at the elite Dorian Drama School convinced it will transform her into someone beautiful enough, talented enough, and unforgettable enough to matter. As the daughter of a famous supermodel, Penny already understands the brutal logic of her world: beauty is currency, and for women and girls, it can feel like the only path to power or control. But as Penny chases perfection, she quickly discovers all that glitters is not, in fact, gold. It’s something far more sinister and rotten that has been waiting to consume girls like her.

Book cover for Every Exquisite Thing by Laura Steven.

Girls want power. And sometimes beauty is the closest substitute.

Laura Steven, Every Exquisite Thing

Every classical novel has inevitably inspired retellings, reimaginings, and the occasional “what if we made this gayer?” reinvention. But the best ones don’t just swap names and settings. They figure out what made the original story endure, then twist that question toward a different wound. Every Exquisite Thing does exactly that. Steven takes the old Dorian Gray question, “what would you sacrifice to stay beautiful?” and gives it to girls who have already been taught that beauty is the thing most worth sacrificing for. Wilde’s Dorian is a beautiful young man whose face allows him to move through society untouched while his portrait bears the evidence of his corruption. Penny’s version of that bargain is different because her desire for beauty has been trained into her long before anything supernatural enters the picture. Penny wants beauty because she has inherited a world that treats it as evidence of value. The real tragedy is that she has been taught to confuse being beautiful with being worthy.

Penny is a really compelling FMC for this kind of story because her vanity is so familiar. She is ambitious, jealous, insecure, hungry, and sometimes (especially at the beginning of the novel!) so deeply unlikable I wondered how long I could sympathize with her. But as the story unfolds, it becomes harder to separate Penny’s worst impulses from the world that taught her to survive this way. She has grown up close enough to fame to understand its power, but not close enough to feel secure in it. That juxtaposition gives her obsession with beauty and perfection the rancid edge of a survival instinct gone septic. She wants the lead role. She wants the perfect body. She wants the stunning face. She wants proof that she isn’t just someone’s daughter. And Steven is very good at showing how that desperation can curdle into cruelty without flattening Penny into a cautionary tale.

My grandmother, meticulously measuring herself with a pink dressmaker’s tape, and my mother, observing, internalizing. A generational curse passed down like a set of ancient pearls, impossible to escape from once they were hanging around your neck.

Laura Steven, Every Exquisite Thing

One of my favorite parts of Every Exquisite Thing is how pointed the Shakespeare productions feel in a story about girls learning which versions of themselves are allowed to exist. Steven is reimagining Wilde rather than simply performing Dorian Gray back to us, while the students are doing the opposite with Shakespeare: stepping into scripts that have already been written, studied, admired, and repeated for centuries. So the school’s emphasis on performance goes far beyond the stage. Everyone is learning how to fit themselves into roles other people already understand. Penny’s casting as Lady Macbeth makes that even more pointed. Lady Macbeth knows what it means to want power from a position where she cannot simply claim it outright, and Penny is rehearsing that same impossible lesson: how to want something without being punished for wanting too much.

I also really liked that the sapphic relationships are not treated like a glossy update to a classic text. They are messy, charged, and tangled up in the same questions of beauty, wanting, and self-image that shape the rest of the novel. The Picture of Dorian Gray has always felt deeply queer to many readers, even when its queerness lives in implication, obsession, secrecy, and the fear of being exposed. Every Exquisite Thing brings that desire into the open. In a world where girls are constantly taught to measure themselves through desirability, attraction can blur very quickly with admiration, envy, rivalry, and hunger. Sometimes these characters want each other. Sometimes they want to beat each other. Sometimes they want to become each other. And sometimes all of that is happening at once. Queerness here is not an escape from the beauty economy. It disrupts it and shows how difficult it can be to desire someone clearly when you have been taught to compare yourself to everyone.

I was so perfect before the world told me otherwise.

Laura Steven, Every Exquisite Thing

The portrait itself also gets a smart modern update. Wilde’s portrait can be hidden away, left to rot in private, while Dorian’s face remains untouched. Steven understands that contemporary image culture does not work like that. In Penny’s world, beauty is documented, circulated, screenshotted, weaponized, and preserved by everyone with a phone. A photograph can be evidence, social currency, punishment, or proof of who someone is supposed to be. That makes the portraits feel even stranger when they appear because they’re not just gothic decoration. They are part of a much larger ecosystem of images haunting these girls from every angle. Mirrors, photos, paparazzi shots, portraits on the wall—all of them become versions of the same question: what happens when the image becomes more powerful than the person it claims to capture?

By the end, Steven has created a retelling that feels more like excavation than homage. She does not simply ask, “What if Dorian Gray were sapphic?” Instead, she imagines what Dorian Gray becomes in a world where girls are taught to curate themselves before they know who they are, and where beauty is marketed as empowerment while still being used as a leash. The result is gothic, bitter, romantic, and vicious in all the right places. I absolutely devoured this book, and so will you!

Thank you to NetGalley and Wednesday Books for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

Burn the Kingdom Down by Addie Thorley

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Burn the Kingdom Down by Addie Thorley is a young adult enemies-to-lovers romantasy where a second-born princess infiltrates an enemy kingdom to avenge her sister’s suspicious death, only to discover that the truth behind that death, and the kingdom she was taught to hate, is far more complicated than she imagined. What starts as a revenge-driven premise quickly shifts into something more uncertain, as Indira navigates grief, political tension, and a marriage she never wanted. With enemies-to-lovers tension, memory-based magic, and a mystery at its core, the novel sets itself up as a thrilling story about vengeance, truth, and the real cost of both.

Book cover for Burn the Kingdom Down by Addie Thorley.

A gilded cage is still a cage, little sister.

Addie Thorley, Burn the Kingdom Down

I really wanted to love this one. The premise alone is so compelling: a crown princess is sent away in chains, returns home dead, and her younger sister steps into her place with a plan to infiltrate, investigate, and burn everything down if necessary to get revenge. I mean, a title like Burn the Kingdom Down sets a very specific expectation, and for me, that expectation was feminine rage! I was ready for sharp edges, decisive action, and a heroine actively pursuing vengeance. Instead, much of the story feels far more internal and, at times, very static.

Indira is a character with a lot of potential. I liked the idea of her as the “spare,” someone not raised to rule, yet suddenly forced into a role that requires both political strategy and emotional resilience, all while she’s grieving her sister’s death. There’s something inherently interesting about a character who is underestimated by everyone around her but still determined to succeed. Her magic, too, stood out to me. The ability to nurture and grow plants initially reads as soft or passive, but the story does a nice job of showing how powerful that kind of magic can be. That contrast between perceived weakness and actual strength is one of the more compelling elements of her character.

That said, spending time in Indira’s head was often where the book lost me. Much of the narrative is driven by her internal monologue, and it tends to circle the same doubts and suspicions without evolving in a way that feels engaging. Indira second-guesses herself constantly, and while some of that makes sense given her circumstances, it starts to feel repetitive rather than illuminating. The repeated conversations she has with an imagined version of her sister, Rowenna, especially stand out. What could have been an interesting way to explore grief and memory instead drags on for way too long.

Love isn’t finite. A portion isn’t taken from one recipient when it’s shared with another. It simply grows.

Addie Thorley, Burn the Kingdom Down

Where the book really shines is in its worldbuilding and magic system. The idea of memories as a source of power that can be harvested, manipulated or even stored is genuinely fascinating. It opens up questions about how memory shapes identity and how easily it can be distorted, which ties nicely into the broader mystery of what really happened to Rowenna. I also loved the contrast between the two kingdoms: Tashir, rooted in soil and growth, and Vanzador, built on stone and mountains. They feel like complete opposites, but the story hints at how they’re meant to function in balance rather than in opposition, adding an extra layer of thematic depth.

The central mystery is what really kept me reading, even when the pacing lagged. As Indira uncovers more about her sister’s life in Vanzador, the narrative effectively complicates what she thought she knew. Watching her slowly realize that Rowenna may not have been the person she believed was one of the more interesting arcs in the book. There’s a strong thread here about how we idealize the people we love, and what happens when that image starts to fracture.

However, the plot sometimes leans too heavily on telling rather than showing. We’re often told that Indira is investigating, researching, or searching for answers, but we don’t always see those moments play out meaningfully. Instead, they’re summarized or skipped over, which makes parts of the story feel like connective tissue rather than fully realized scenes. It creates a sense of moving from point A to point B without the emotional or narrative weight that should exist in between.

The romance also fits into this pattern. The connection between Indira and Prince Alaric develops alongside the unraveling mystery, and I did appreciate how their bond ties back to themes of family and understanding. But like other elements of the book, it felt somewhat underdeveloped compared to the strength of the concept.

I am choosing to build rather than burn.

Addie Thorley, Burn the Kingdom Down

Overall, this is one of those books where the idea is stronger than the execution. There’s a really intriguing story here about grief, memory, and the narratives we build around both people and nations. The worldbuilding and magic system are genuinely compelling, and Indira as a character is layered and interesting. I just wish the overall character development and pacing had matched the ambition of the premise. For a book that promises to burn a kingdom down, I wanted to feel way more of that fire on the page.

Thank you to NetGalley and Sourcebooks Fire for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.