Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult
Synopsis:
In the tropical kingdom of Rhodaire, magical, elemental Crows are
part of every aspect of life...until the Illucian empire invades, destroying
everything.
That terrible night has thrown Princess Anthia into a deep
depression. Her sister Caliza is busy running the kingdom after their mother's
death, but all Thia can do is think of all she has lost.
But when Caliza is forced to agree to a marriage between Thia and
the crown prince of Illucia, Thia is finally spurred into action. And after
stumbling upon a hidden Crow egg in the rubble of a rookery, she and her sister
devise a dangerous plan to hatch the egg in secret and get back what was taken
from them.
BOOK LINKS
REVIEW
I received an e-ARC from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Eragon meets giant crows and magic in this powerful sweeping fantasy. Anthia and her people face total destruction even from the beginning of the book, which by the way was the strongest prologue I've read in a while. But as secrets, magic and a crow egg slowly make their appearance in the course of the book, Anthia will have to face even darker enemies.
I liked some of the characters and others simply annoyed me. The magic of the crows was very interesting and yet the important fact was that the author wrote a heroine who has depression and addresses the issue. In fantasies this is rare and I liked this, as I hope that other fellow readers will do.
I hope the story in the sequel will be as interesting as it was in the first book!
EXCERPT
Prologue
I was a storm.
Adrenaline ripped through my veins like lightning
as I leaned close to the body of my Crow, preparing to execute a dive. Iyla’s
warm, steady heat kept me grounded, even hundreds of feet in the air. Cold wind
whipped tendrils of hair free from my braid, nipping at the skin around my
goggles and stealing my breath.
The thin, well-worn saddle beneath me was nothing
more than a strip of leather to bind stirrups to, the reins trailing from my
hands to Iyla’s beak, an illusion of control—this ride depended on trust and
mutual respect. Anything less, and no amount of leather would keep me seated on
Iyla’s back.
Years of Estrel’s instructions raced through my
mind: Keep your body low and tight in a dive. Give the reins slack.
Keep your knees back so you don’t put pressure on the Crow’s wing joints.
I knew it all like my own heartbeat.
I tucked close to Iyla’s body, and we dove.
Water misted my skin as Iyla’s Storm Crow magic
split apart a cloud a second before we shot through it and plummeted toward the
earth. My heart screamed into my throat, pure, unadulterated joy erupting
through me with every passing moment. I held my breath as we fell, counting the
seconds—we could only gain so much speed before Iyla’s wings wouldn’t be able
to handle the strain of opening.
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…
We burst through the clouds, Aris spread out below
us. The city was a blur as we dove, a sea of light and color fast approaching.
Twenty. I squeezed my knees, and Iyla’s wings snapped open like the slice
of a blade, catching an updraft to send us sailing in a gentle arc. Lightning
buzzed at the tips of Iyla’s wings as she let out a piercing call.
I sucked in a lungful of cold air and let it out in
a laugh, the thrill of the dive resounding through me like a thunderclap. I
craved that feeling like starved lungs craved air, letting it fill me until I
felt impossibly alive.
We circled wide and low, descending the rest of the
way until Iyla’s shadow blanketed the city streets.
Aris unfurled beneath us like a colorful map, dense
with thick green foliage and spotted with wildflowers. People called up to us,
waving from crowded streets as revelers prepared for the festival leading up to
Negnoch, the city’s yearly hatch night. In a few hours, every single Crow from
across the kingdom of Rhodaire would put on a masterful display of riding and
magic, and the year’s Crows would be hatched.
One of them would be mine. Tonight, I would choose
my own Crow and become a rider.
We dipped lower, children chasing Iyla’s shadow in
the hopes of catching a stray feather to wish upon. This was my favorite part
of flying. Even more than the thrill of diving or the magic of soaring through
endless skies, I loved gliding peacefully above Aris, the wind brushing along
my skin as the city passed below.
Even on the back of a stolen Crow. Well, not quite stolen. Iyla belonged to Estrel, my teacher and mother’s best
friend, and while Estrel had let me ride Iyla alone before, she technically
hadn’t given me permission to tonight.
Probably because I didn’t ask.
A gentle tug on the reins sent Iyla a little
higher, and we fell in line over the crystal waters of the canal in the
Rynthene Wing. To my left, Earth Crows helped work the fields, tilling land in
huge swaths with the pulse of their magic. To my right, the fading sunlight
glinted off an armored Battle Crow.
All over Aris, the Crows and riders integrated into
the city’s inner workings would be finishing up the day’s tasks. Later, they’d
join the military pouring in from Rhodaire’s outer reaches in preparation for
the Sky Dance.
We followed the canal to the castle at the city’s
heart. The giant, gray stone structure stretched into the sky, Delladon vines
sprawling across its pale face like laugh lines. From each of the four sides of
the central tower, a crescent-shaped landing platform jutted out, and I used
the nearest one as a marker to veer Iyla right toward the royal rookery. It was
a tall, circular tower with wide windows on the third floor for easy landing.
My nerves jittered. Landing was the hardest part,
even with Estrel’s lessons branded into my mind.
Let the Crow do the work; it knows
what it’s doing. Keep your weight back. Never dismount while a Crow’s folding
its wings, or you risk straining the joints.
We glided easily through one of the rookery’s
large, open windows, Iyla as practiced in this maneuver as breathing. Her wings
flared back, sending straw swirling across the stone floor as her massive black
claws reached out, taking hold of the nearest T-shaped perch. We fell to a
standstill, her wings tucking in tight to her muscled form. She was almost
reptilian with a lean, muscular body, the proportions a little longer, a little
more limber than a normal bird.
I let out a whoop, grinning as I tugged down my
goggles and swung off her back, throwing my arms around her. Her long neck
straightened as she stiffened, but I’d learned long ago that she’d not only
tolerate hugs but secretly liked them.
“Anthia!”
My excitement went cold at my mother’s sharp voice.
A flurry of black wings filled the opposite window as her Battle Crow, Tyros,
landed effortlessly on the perch across from Iyla, sending a gust of
straw-filled wind into my face.
My mother swung down, stalking toward me with the
smooth litheness of a jungle cat. With the setting sun at her back, she looked
every inch the queen she was, the light making her brown skin and polished
flying leathers gleam with an inner fire.
“What in Saint’s name do you think you’re doing?”
she demanded.
“Um, talking to Iyla?” I offered. Lying had never
been my strong suit. To her credit, the Crow let out a low caw, as if she were
indeed part of the conversation.
My mother didn’t smile. I didn’t expect her to.
“Relax, Alandra.” Estrel emerged from the nearby
staircase at my side, her long, dark curls bound in a thick braid like mine. “I
gave her permission.”
The only person who could tell my mother to relax
without getting eviscerated was Estrel, my aunt in every way but blood. They
even looked like sisters, though my mother was taller and leaner. She and
Estrel had grown up together, and I’d even heard a rumor Estrel’s sister and my
mother had courted as teenagers.
My mother frowned, and I
straightened beneath the sharpness of her steel-colored gaze. Her eyes always
reminded me of knives, forever sculpting me in an endless quest for perfection.
“I executed a perfect dive,” I offered as if my
ability to perform riding techniques far more advanced than my seventeen years
might soften her gaze.
It only made her eyes narrow. “Taking another
rider’s Crow out for a joyride to perform dangerous maneuvers is not only
foolish, it’s insulting.” I flinched. “If you want to prove yourself capable of
being a leader among the riders, you can start by not disrespecting every rule
and custom we live by.”
I refused to wilt beneath the heat of her words.
“Well, maybe if you spent more than a waking second in my presence, I’d know
the rules better.”
Estrel drew a sharp breath, but my mother went
stiller than a Shadow Crow concealed in darkness. For a fraction of a second, I
swore something pained flashed through her iron gaze, but it vanished quickly.
The circlet of silver feathers on her brow gleamed
like molten starlight. “I expect you back here before the hatching.” She turned
to Tyros, who leapt from his perch to the wide window ledge, a perfect tableau
of strength against a backdrop of approaching night. With a grace I hadn’t yet
mastered, she swung up into the saddle. Wings tucked in tight, Tyros leapt.
They plummeted from view, gone for barely a breath before they soared up past
the window, climbing into the darkening sky.
AUTHOR
INFORMATION
Kalyn
Josephson is a Technical Writer in Silicon Valley, which leaves room for too
many bad puns about technically being a writer. She grew up in San Luis Obispo,
CA, but now lives in the Bay Area with four awesome friends (because it’s the
Bay and she’d like to be able to retire one day) and two black cats (who are
more like a tiny dragon and an even tinier owl). When not writing YA Fantasy,
she loves baking, reading, playing sports, and watching too many movies.
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