The Witch Below the Dreaming Wood by H. G. Parry (audio)

I love H. G. Parry.

This is a reworking of the myth(s) of King Arthur et al, with a timeline in the second World War interacting with earlier legends. It foregrounds two women: Nimue, who is raised by Morgan le Fay, the Lady of the Lake, to be Merlin’s doom; and Elaine (Ellie) Ambrose, a librarian in 1941 London who is sent to a remote estate in Wales after the bombing of the British Museum Library. Chapters alternate between Nimue’s first-person perspective (I believe hers is first-person because she has knowledge of most all events) and Ellie’s third-person (she is still working things out). Nimue’s girlhood is spent under the lake, knowing only her mother, Morgan le Fay; Lancelot, raised as her older brother; and Mordred, raised as her younger one. She is to bring down Merlin, the greatest wizard in the land. But when she leaves her underwater home, she finds out how little she understands about people, herself, her mother’s motivations, Arthur, Guinevere, Merlin himself, etc., etc. Meanwhile, Ellie is mystified and a little peeved to have been sent away from London: the bombings, the books, the work she is so committed to. But here she is in a backwater, at Camlan House, tasked with cataloging a private collection for an absent owner. She finds the housekeeper Mrs. Leaf odd and unfriendly, but the groundskeeper, Tom Wilder, will become a dear friend.

Ellie has been mostly dismissive of the recent wave of dreams, shared by much of the British populace, about King Arthur. It is only at Camlan House that Ellie begins to dream, too: not of Arthur, but of Nimue. Staunchly practical, she persists in believing that Arthurian legend can have no bearing on the bombs and the Nazis of the present–right up until she and Tom together rescue an actual questing beast from a rock pool on the coast. And then things start to get really strange.

I won’t say too much more. Things I loved about King Arthur and the Round Table are present here: the exalted ideals of the chivalric code, the loves and tragedies of Arthur-Guinevere-Lancelot’s triangle, the brooding mystique of the Lady of the Lake; all of which benefit from the recentered women of The Mists of Avalon. T.H. White even appears as a character here! (Also Maid Marian…) And then there is the passionate librarianship of Ellie, a very shadowy character herself. I loved Tom, I loved Merlin in every version. I couldn’t wait to get back into it, even with an overlay of tragedy everywhere we turn. This book is about the same length as Breeze Spells and Bridgerooms, but felt so different. I love both–but where Bridegrooms raced past in bliss and cakes and punch and fairy lights, The Witch feels epic and inexorable. This is a matter of pacing but also content: Arthur’s time and World War II are both at least as full of darkness as of light, and hinge upon the battle between the two (in simplest, most mythic terms). It’s not a cheerful story, but it is a brave, beautiful one.

Helen Day narrates in a variety of voices and accents that felt very immediate and right to me. I think I will seek out audio versions of Parry’s work in future. Definitely recommend, for lovers of books, legend, the Arthurian stories, history, and the kind of fantasy that strives to save the world.


Rating: 8 tutting mice.

Breeze Spells and Bridegrooms by Sarah Wallace and S.O. Callahan

I had the best time with this lively tale of human-fae relations, magic, and enemies-to-lovers romance. It’s sugary sweet but hit just the right note for me.

In this alternative Regency-era London, same-sex relationships are as usual as hetero ones, and humans and fae folk live together, although not entirely with ease. Everybody (human and fae) takes the Hastings test when they are twelve. This exam claims to test magical ability, and the score assigned dictates each individual’s options for the rest of their life: who inherits, what profession one can enter, and one’s marriageability (which we know is terribly important in Regency London). As we enter this year’s social Season, one Roger Barnes (human) is less concerned with finding a mate, and more concerned with reworking the infamous Hastings test. Roger’s low score has labelled him as worthless, but his hard work on a new test rubric makes the reader suspicious of that conclusion early on. Unfortunately, Roger is assigned to work with Wyndham Wrenwhistle on this project. Wyn (fae) and Roger have known each other since childhood, but never gotten along. Wyn is beautiful, stylish, and aloof, where Roger is chubby, bookish, and deeply anxious. Their partnership for the test rubric is unlikely and prickly from the start, although from the reader’s privileged perspective, they may indeed have complementary qualities and much to offer one another. The trouble really begins when an unusual and eccentric gossip columnist prints the news that the two are engaged–this is false, but once printed, by the mores of their society, it would mean social doom for both families if retracted. And so Roger and Wyn find themselves working not only to fix the Haynes test, but to fake a romantic partnership, complete with romantic walks in the park (chaperoned, of course), deep sighs, and choreographed dances. And spells.

I was tickled by the combination of Regency standards and Wallace and Callahan’s worldbuilding. Human and fae magics, respectively, have long been understood for their differences, not their complementary possibilities. And some features of each will be rediscovered, by accident and with purpose, by this unlikely duo. Roger’s academic enthusiasm is absolutely genuine, and infectious. He really does need help with anxiety; and Wyn, it turns out, needs help with certain aspects of being in the city, as well. This lovely tale includes scholarship, social politicking as well as the political kind, finessing of human-fae relations, and swoon-worthy romance. Breeze Spells and Bridegrooms feels as good as fluff, but with substance. Over 400 pages flew by in an actual blink; I will be looking for more.


Rating: 9 honey-covered biscuits.

The Queen of Sorrow by Sarah Beth Durst (audio)

This third and final book in the Queens of Renthia series lives up to its name, with hardships and sorrows, but ends on a surprisingly hopeful note. The Queen of Blood was Daleina, and The Reluctant Queen was Naelin; this third titular queen is Naelin again, facing new challenges. Thematically, to some extent, these might be summed up as the tension between caring for one’s own, as individuals (in Naelin’s case, her two children) and caring for the masses (in Naelin’s case, her realm of Aratay, and perhaps even beyond it to the people of all of Renthia). A ruler with individual loved ones is ever in a position of conflicted loyalties, with no easy solutions. We also see in this book a return of an earlier antagonist. The spirits are bad enough – killers, but only by instinct, without much in the way of personality, or motivations beyond those instincts; and they may be managed, even somewhat humanely, by a queen who is both good and powerful. But then there is Merecot: powerful, but not entirely ‘good,’ she is ambitious, self-centered, and arguably amoral. Since book one she has been at least a little bit at odds with Daleina, who is undeniably good (Merecot would say, obnoxiously so), but distressingly unpowerful in her command of the spirits. Naelin is very powerful, but poorly trained, and compromised by her personal loyalties, as above; she might be the chaos to contrast with Daleina’s good and Merecot’s less-than-good. And yes, all three of these are pitted against the spirits, characterized almost as a force of nature (indeed, they are the embodiments of natural forces), but perhaps with more agency than we originally thought.

Whew.

As a series closer, The Queen of Sorrow is powerful: there is no question of the strength of the emotional experiences of each of our queens, and I’m stimulated by a number of secondary characters, too, including several loves (and one ex), a sister, and a mother-in-law-to-be, not to mention Merecot and her machinations (and predecessor). There are weddings, deaths, a wolf with a backstory, new worlds. There’s a lot of new for a series closer, and I see we do have a (standalone-ish?) “Tales of Renthia” book already, as well. I guess I appreciate that Durst left so much possibility, although it might be frustrating for the supposed final work in a series! I think the whole thing has been a feat of worldbuilding. There’s something about the darkness here that has kept me at a bit of a distance, that I can’t quite put a finger on, but I’m also gripped by the plot and completely invested – when I spotted that fourth book I knew I had to have it. I think I relate more closely to Durst’s cozier outings, but I want this kind just as badly. Maybe I’ll figure out how to better articulate this in the next edition.


Rating: 7 jewels.

three shorts from the Magic & Mystery collection

I was delighted to try out a couple of these shorts as part of the “Magic & Mystery” collection of Amazon originals. (I am not thrilled about Amazon but I do want Baldree, Fawcett, and Durst, so here we are.)

Travis Baldree’s “Miss Gentle and the Case of the Very Flat Monk” is a mystery with a mystery within it. Abbot Listrum has a dead monk on his grounds whom nobody liked, and a bishop on the way. But when he puts his trust in an odd, suit-of-armored old woman (??) who calls herself Miss Gentle, the questions seem only to multiply. This story offers Baldree’s usual sense of ridiculousness and fun, even when the monk is indeed very flat. There is less space for comraderie and developing relationships, but I’m standing by for more. Preferably from Viv and the rest of the Legends and Lattes gang!

Heather Fawcett’s “A Labyrinth of Honeybees” contains perhaps still more a sense of mischief, even though the stakes are at least as high for the priestess of the Goddess of the Garden, in a world where the king has outlawed that Goddess and all the rest of the eighty-three (or eighty-four, depending on who’s counting) of the gods that the people have long respected. Upon a visit from the royal inquisitor, the priestess must use her wits to sidestep difficult questions. Luckily, the garden itself has a role to play. I found this one a little darker than I generally expect from Fawcett: less light-hearted and playful, more sinister, but every bit as delicious. I’m reminded of course of “St. Valentine, St. Abigail, St. Brigid”, another short, by C. L. Polk, that also involved honeybees and darkness. I’d happily return to this world.

Finally, I think my personal favorite of these three was “The Wednesday Witches Book Club” by Sarah Beth Durst, perhaps because, while magical, it approached most closely a world I live in. Ashley believes absolutely that “Every witch needs a book club,” and following a divorce and cross-country move, she’s ready to give one a try, even if her new acquaintances, and the home they meet in, are uncomfortably put-together and awfully… beige. They have some very interesting problems, however, and in facing them together, Ashley finds a book club and a new group of friends. Despite some serious themes (friendship, belonging) and stakes (remaining human), this story of the three had by far the greatest sense of fun, which is often something I seek, especially in fantasy.

I am glad to take some small bites from several authors whose writings I am always eagerly, anxiously awaiting. These were enjoyable, but I’m still so much looking forward to more full-length works from each!


Rating: 7 ears.

The Somewhat Wicked Witch of Brigandale by C. M. Waggoner (audio)

Props to my colleague Jaclyn Fulwood’s Shelf Awareness review which sold me on this title.

Gretsella was firmly opposed to life lessons of all kinds. There were, in her view, two proper ways to come to an understanding about the ways of the world: through native intelligence and old-fashioned common sense, as she had, or by having the ways of the world firmly explained to you by Gretsella, as she preferred for everyone else. It was much simpler for everyone that way, so long as she wasn’t forced to repeat herself.

The Somewhat Wicked Witch of Brigandale is a joy, starring a grumpy curmudgeon of a witch who thinks herself a bit less sentimental than she turns out to be.

Gretsella has built a life that suits her, as the witch with the reasonable prices, who lives alone in a cottage in the woods, mostly unbothered – until someone deposits a baby on her doorstep. She raises him to be a handsome ninny of a young man, deeply kind but not burdened by much intellect, a hairdresser’s apprentice who is developing his craft when the woodland creatures identify him as heir to the throne. Gretsella is able to push this aside until the knights show up with the same message, and one very handsome knight in particular. Bradley cannot resist a handsome knight. And so he is off to try to run a kingdom, with barely the sense needed to serve as hairdresser’s apprentice in a small village where he lives with his mother.

Gretsella, who loves to be useful (and right), is gratified when Bradley asks her for help. She arrives at the palace in the capitol to try and put things back together, hiring a council of sensible elders to help guide Bradley’s actions. He is likeable enough, and absolutely well-meaning, but unfit to rule, and would be happy to step down if he could figure out how to do it. Leave it to Gretsella to arrange to overthrow her son’s rule – with love. What could go wrong?

This novel is part fairy tale, part political satire; a completely hilarious, gleeful piece of escapism; and a lovely, earnest study on the different kinds of love, familial and otherwise, how we get hurt and that we must keep going anyway. It’s touching, exuberant, and cantankerous, like Gretsella herself. She is nothing if not opinionated: “No mother should have to endure anything half so dreadful as her own son developing the ability to formulate independent thoughts.”

Rebecca Stern’s narration felt perfect: I was lost in another world with this book (even as we were critiquing bureaucracy!), and couldn’t wait to get back there. In fact, I’m hopeful that Gretsella may not be done adventuring and advising on the fate of the kingdom. I’ll be looking up this author’s backlist, as well. I hope you enjoy this somewhat wicked witch as much as I did.


Rating: 8 slices of delectable cake.

The Art of Charming a Changeling by Sylvie Cathrall

A plucky art conservator must travel into Fairy lands to save her job and a dreamy Fairy imprisoned in a painting.

The Art of Charming a Changeling is an endearing, enthralling fantasy-romance by Sylvie Cathrall, whose imagination takes readers through Folk and Fairy lands, into a painting, and back again.

Florrie Hyverfell loves her work as an art conservator. It’s people she finds challenging. Constantly arranging her face, rehearsing conversations ahead of time, seeking out comforting textures, and managing her interactions with the world exhaust her. She feels fortunate to be employed by Prince Ardant at the Commonplace Palace Museum, where she cares for his extensive collection. He even shares her passion for Fairy paintings, which have become embarrassingly outmoded. The painting he cares the most about is The Resolute Portrait of Vibrant Lord Vernal Mauve Among the Ruins; but to her dismay, Florrie quickly determines it has been replaced by a Fairy forgery. Worse, the counterfeit painting is holding hostage a changeling, a minuscule, near-perfect copy version of Lord Vernal Mauve, who asks that she call him Vern.

Florrie feels a little overwhelmed. According to the Conservators’ Code (which she has memorized), “one must only introduce the mere possibility of a counterfeit after acquiring at least five forms of incontrovertible evidence.” To save her job, and to help Vern escape from the beautiful but closed world of his painting, Florrie is compelled to find the original stolen painting. To do so, she must travel into Fairy lands, where Folk seldom travel. Meanwhile, there is the utter allure and magnetism of Vern, and does he have tiny, impossibly adorable dimples?

Cathrall (A Letter to the Luminous Deep) invites readers into a curious world in which Folk and Fairies have parted ways, with Folk generally preferring simpler technologies (rejecting levitating carts because “nothing feels so real as a wheel”) and eschewing Fairies and their overly embellished art. Finding herself attracted to Vern presents another layer of difficulty to a woman who frequently struggles to find her way. But Florrie is stronger than some might think.

The Art of Charming a Changeling offers an absorbing foray into an imaginative setting populated by art-focused princes, haughty collectors and conservators at odds with one another, fanciful Fairies, and the occasional predatory duck. It contains a sweet and cozy romance, a woman’s journey of self-actualization within a society that undervalues her, and a whimsical fantasy of changeling art. It also features a quest, for those seeking adventure. This first in a planned series will leave all sorts of readers hungry for more.


This review originally ran in the June 23, 2026 issue of Shelf Awareness for the Book Trade. To subscribe, click here.


Rating: 7 seed-loaves.

Brothersong by TJ Klune (audio)

As ever, here you will find spoilers from previous books in the series. And, well, I’m revealing the ‘ship of this novel, but that will surprise no one who read book three.


I love these books and am very sad that the series is over.

Each of four books has focused on the development of a certain couple, and the development of one of the two characters in particular. Wolfsong was Ox’s story, and followed his relationship with Joe. Ravensong was Gordo, and his with Mark. Heartsong followed Robbie on his way back to Kelly. Now Brothersong sees Carter, eldest of the Bennett brothers, move fully into his relationship with Gavin. As the final book, it also wraps the whole larger story, and circles back around to Ox, who has become arguably the heart of the Bennett pack. I laughed, I cried.

I prefer this cover image

One of the things I love most about the Carter-and-Gavin development is that Carter has, until recently, thought he was a straight man. None of the other three couples seemed to struggle with being men attracted to men, although Ox dated some girls before deciding he was bi (or pan – I think they used the term bi). Carter is over 30 and has always been clear that women were for him. But now it is finally clear to Carter (as it has been clear to literally everyone else in his life for years) that his mate – the wolfish term for a deeply felt life partner and soulmate – is Gavin. Carter is a member of ‘like, the gayest pack ever’ (their words), with two gay brothers, etc., etc., and that’s all fine with him, but he’d never expected to be trying to figure out sex with a man himself. He’s both fine with it and quite shaken, and nervous about the actual sex part. I find this a fascinating line of inquiry. Not least, I’ve always wondered how I’d do if I found myself in love with a woman (hasn’t happened yet); I feel like I understand his confusion. And when I talk to young people these days I think about keeping our language open, and I admire the fluidity or the lack of labels that they seem to enjoy. Something about this aspect of the story really appealed to me.

Klune continues to engage me with action, intrigue, drama, pain, love, and yes, sex; I love that we can laugh in the middle of a very compelling sex scene. And he also continues to play with my feelings, threatening to off a major-major character, not for the first time. We continue to learn the rules of this werewolfed world. We have human heroes as well as werewolf ones (not that that’s new). And the pack continues to develop and grow.

I am bereft that this is over. I will miss these people forever. All the kudos to Kirt Graves, as ever.


Rating: 8 sparkles.

Brigands and Breadknives by Travis Baldree (audio)

I am crazy about these books, and their narration (by the author, who has more audio-narration credits than author ones to his name). This is the third in the Legends and Lattes series, and there is a collection of related short stories promised which I am definitely excited for, but I deeply wish for more novels!

As a series, I find the chronology interesting and a little unusual. In Legends and Lattes, we saw Viv end her mercenary career and open a coffee shop (bravely, in a town that had never heard of coffee). As far as Viv’s storyline, we left her fairly settled – no obvious sequel there. So, instead, book two, Bookshops and Bonedust, rewound time and saw a young Viv, early in the career we have seen her leave behind. She faced a different challenge there, and resolved it as she made an important new friend – and then rode off into the sunset to make an earnest go of that mercenary career. (We have now seen her start it, and end it, but the time itself is still largely untouched. Maybe that’s where another novel fits!) In book three, we now follow up with Fern, the friend Viv made in book two and then parted from. Years later – following Viv’s successful coffee shop, marriage, and settling – they reunite. And then Fern goes off on her own adventures, leaving Viv largely outside of the narrative. So firstly, as a series, I find this one fascinating in its sequencing. I like it fine. I wonder about the author’s creation process, and suspect he’s one of those who discovers his stories as they unfold for him, no plotting. Whatever it is, it’s working!

So. Fern, years after the events of Bookshops, has left her bookshop and her lifelong home behind. It will take much of the book to clearly label what she’s experienced: depression, ennui, boredom? In some desperation to find a new spark, she takes an old friend – Viv – up on an offer via correspondence, and travels to the city of Thune with an elderly Pot Roast in tow. They reunite, it is wonderful, and Viv (and Tandri and Cal and Thimble) help set Fern up in a new bookshop. But this does not solve her existential suffering. And so Fern gets drunk and flees: specifically, she semi-on-purpose goes to sleep in the cart of wildly famous, centuries-old hero Astryx One-Ear, the Oathmaiden, a warrior elf of great renown. Thus she stows away and becomes a member of a rollicking expedition to transport the bounty prisoner Zyll, an orange-haired goblin, across the Territories.

The motley crew is then made up of Astryx (ancient elf warrior), Fern (former-bookseller rattkin), Zyll (goblin criminal of few but hilarious words), occasionally a demonic chicken sort of thing, Astryx’s fabled Elder Blade, Nigel, who is sentient and talks (quite a lot), and eventually a former Elder Blade which has been “diminished” into a breadknife. He winds up with Fern, who calls him Breadlee. They encounter courtly and polite antagonists as well as murderous and duplicitous ones. The ending is a wonderful and wildly funny surprise. Zyll’s one-liners are K I L L I N G me; I can’t stop thinking about her.

These books are funny, sweet, thoughtful, imaginative, and totally absorbing. Please, Travis, please, write more of this world.


Rating: 8 pieces of paper.

The Astral Library by Kate Quinn (audio)

I don’t recall where I got this book recommended, but it was likely this enticing Shelf review by my colleage Katie. And what’s not to like: escaping into magical libraries, with some fantastical threats to manage, but also, spinning off into fictional worlds and making a difference. I found the start a little slow, or a little negative: we meet Alix on a truly bad day. A twenty-something aged out of the foster system, alone in the world, broke, she loses one of her three terrible jobs, gets her hours cut at another, and finds out her bank account has been hacked, making her measly $36.82 unavailable to her. Oh, and she gets kicked out of her shitty apartment. The one bright note is that the handsome Beau Sato-Jones, who runs a sumptuous boutique making lush historical costumes, needs her to work a couple of bookkeeping hours. The reader suspects that he think of Alix as an actual friend, but she doesn’t seem to take that seriously. And so, like so many bookish desperates before her, Alix heads to the library. There, she stumbles through a door.

From here, Alix finds the Astral Library and meets the Librarian. She learns of the option to live inside a book’s world – every bookworm’s dream, we are told (strangely, I’m not sure I’ve fantasized about this, although I’ll keep considering) – and is wholeheartedly ready to make the leap. But strange happenings in the Astral Library inspire her to instead ally herself with the Librarian. Alix becomes, however temporarily, a page. She travels to Arthur Conan Doyle’s London, and onward. On her way to finding her own home in a fictional world, she inhabits many, eventually making the cause of the Astral Library her own. And Beau will of course reappear, because obviously traveling to the worlds of Brontë and Austen require costume changes, and wouldn’t you know it, the Astral Library’s costuming department was getting threadbare.

As I said, the beginning of this book had me a bit down, with Alix’s string of unlikely and dour bad luck. But as soon as we hit that world of magic (and a delightfully grumpy Librarian), things picked up considerably. Alix’s crusade against bureaucracy, in defense of human rights, and centrally, in favor of the lofty raison d’être of libraries themselves can feel a bit pat, for those who have dwelt in this righteous space for a while; but honestly, it’s still not stale. There is a rousing speech or two, in advance of a satisfying ending.

The Astral Library has notes of romance, plenty of luxuriating in the power of story, lavish costuming, body positivity, and badass librarians. Also some critique of technology, as well as double-crossings and pain, but all resolved at the finish. Saskia Maarleveld narrates with great style, and I also enjoyed Kate Quinn’s reading of her own author’s note, and a conversation between Quinn and Maarleveld. I savored this presentation, and this was a solid work of escapism (Alix’s favorite) as well as an indulgent soak in library love, fantasy-style. I’d do it all over again – and, if Quinn is listening, I’d love to spend more time with Alix.


Rating: 7 tablets.

The Reluctant Queen by Sarah Beth Durst (audio)

Following The Queen of Blood is The Reluctant Queen, at center position in this trilogy. I continue to admire Durst’s worldbuilding and characters, imagination, and the hard choices and moral gray areas she presents. On the other hand, the sedate pacing that I felt worked in the Spellshop series is getting a little less effective here.

I fully expected the title to refer to Queen Daleina, who took the crown at, I think, nineteen years old. Not the strongest heir to the throne – in fact, she might be the weakest in terms of pure magical power – she is the only survivor of the massacre in the coronation grove, and therefore the new Queen of Renthia. She was decidedly reluctant… but is not the titular character. Instead, here comes a big plot twist and a spoiler but from quite early in this novel: Daleina is sick, soon to die, and therefore Renthia needs a new heir on standby, stat – but, let’s review again from book one, all the other heirs were killed when Daleina became queen. So, unusually, there ensues a great big scramble for one. Here we learn that, before the academies where Daleina and her peers were trained, Renthia used to find its women and girls of power – its heirs – in an older way: the champions traveling the villages, looking for regular citizens. And so that’s what Champion Ven does here.

And he finds a gem. Naelin is a woodswoman, a wife (to a pretty worthless husband) and a mother to two young children. She has always kept her power hidden, believing it will only get her killed, as it did her mother before her. But when Ven discovers her, he finds that she is the most powerful woman he has ever known, even in her raw, untrained form. She is also staunchly opposed to taking on responsibility beyond her family unit. It takes much of the book to convince her that the sense of duty she feels toward her own children may need to expand to the entire land.

One thing this book kept me thinking about was the tension between ego and chest-thumping, and a true sense of service. I already said that Daleina struck me as a pretty reluctant queen in her own right; by contrast to Naelin, she was there on purpose, training with the specific goal of maybe becoming queen, but not because she thought she deserved it or was owed it or wanted the glory. She struck me as being always clear that it would be a burden, a responsibility, and it was about keeping people safe, not about promoting herself – in contrast to the previous queen, and to some of her classmates at the academy (one in particular). Naelin is even more reluctant, resistant to helping anyone she did not birth herself – at a level that eventually felt pretty selfish to me, in fact. I felt a little impatient with her slowness to realize that queendom is not a prize, but a responsibility; and in turn, those around her who were in a position to advise, never took this tack directly enough for my tastes.

Some of this is due to the classic need, in storytelling, to hold back the revelation of certain details. Some of this is due to an accurate portrayal of human nature. But I sometimes felt like we could have moved things along a little more quickly than we did. Durst excels in painting a picture, a scene, and an inner turmoil. Sometimes she may indulge in a little more of that than serves her story. Especially when we got into some really high-stakes action episodes, I think we could move past the inner monologue, and especially when the inner monologues were reviews of character elements already very well established throughout the book.

I’m still stoked on these characters and the stakes of their world, and excited about where Durst chose to leave the plot hanging for book three – I’m genuinely invested in finding out what our queens will do next about the tricky situation we’ve left them in. So, a little impatient with pacing sometimes, but still in.


Rating: 7 cakes.