Nicole Brinkley

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An ibex stands on a mountain, peacefully grazing, until they are challenged for “the top spot.” In response, the ibex asks, “But what are we even fighting for?” When the ibex receives an attack instead of an answer, they flee from the challenge. Fleeing does not solve problems, however—and it certainly doesn’t get them the top spot. 

A scraggly goat might hold the answers as to how to claim the strange prize. Can the ibex take the goat’s advice, return to the ibex herd and outwit the others? And even if they do, what does winning the top spot really mean?

Frank Weber’s new picture book The Top Spot offers wry commentary on exceptionalism: Why claim the top spot at all? 

Perfect for fans of We Are Definitely Human, The Top Spot explores the strength to be found in cunning over size, as well as how the things we fight over may, ultimately, be pointless. Sparse text lets the artwork shine, leading its unconventional jokes to hit all the harder, with unexpected payoffs as the book progresses. 

Existentialist humor combined with expressive illustrations and a muted, earthy palette makes this picture book one that readers of Jon Klassen will particularly enjoy. Children will be encouraged to examine why they might be competitive with their friends and what, in the end, it actually gets them. The answer might surprise.

Frank Weber’s new picture book The Top Spot offers wry commentary on exceptionalism: Why claim the top spot at all?
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When circumstances force Christopher to spend time at his grandfather’s house in the middle-of-nowhere in Scotland, he expects it to be a bore—until he discovers the Archipelago. Home to creatures of myth and items of magic, Christopher’s family has protected the door to the Archipelago for generations. When a young girl named Mal breaks through the entrance and begs Christopher to help save her life and the lives of all magical creatures, his “allegiance” to “wild and living things”—and his own curiosity—leads him to follow her back into the Archipelago.

With its immortal protector missing, dangerous creatures swarming and a strange force trying to take the world’s magic for its own, the Archipelago is no place for children. But Christopher and Mal are the only people who can save it, even if that means working with pirates, peculiar scientists, odd dragons and sphinxes that could easily kill them. If they survive, it will be quite the story to tell. If they fail, everything will fall to ruin.

Bestselling author Katherine Rundell returns to middle grade with the powerful and charming Impossible Creatures, a modern fantasy with a classic feel. It’s hard not to fall in love with the Archipelago: From Mal’s unique flying coat to the myriad of magical creatures, there is much in the world-building to enjoy. Artwork from Ashley Mackenzie highlights the story’s most fantastical moments, adding to the book’s classic adventure feel and immersing readers in its magic. A fully illustrated guide to the mythological creatures in the back matter fleshes out the fictional world, expanding upon little details only hinted at in the text.

Mal and Christopher serve as alternating narrators before the book settles into Christopher’s point of view, which may leave Mal’s early fans a little in the lurch as they hope for more of her perspective. Her role in the story, however, becomes one of utmost importance, and though the book comes to a satisfying conclusion, readers will be itching to see if and how her arc continues in the rest of the series.

Impossible Creatures is an ode to children’s ability to hope and to make hard decisions. As one character puts it, “Children have been underestimated for hundreds of years.” Younger readers who don’t handle dark moments well should wait until they are older to pick this up: The battle of goodness against despair involves death and does not stray away from a harsher narrative. 

But for readers who devour adventure fantasy stories like The Ogress and the Orphans by Kelly Barnhill as well as classics like Philip Pullman’s The Golden Compass, Impossible Creatures is a must-read.

Bestselling author Katherine Rundell returns to middle grade with the powerful and charming Impossible Creatures, a modern fantasy with a classic feel.
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When three distinguished visitors crash their “car”—which is definitely not a spaceship—and knock on Mr. Li’s door to ask for help, they’re disappointed that he doesn’t have the parts they need to repair their vehicle. Dejected, they start to walk away, but Mr. Li kindly offers them a place to sleep and to take them shopping for parts the next day.

The customers at the general store are also fascinated by Mr. Li’s blue-skinned guests, and offer to help them fix their oddly shaped car. Though the travelers don’t understand local customs, like parties or music, the help of their new friends might get these “definitely human” visitors back to their home.

Which, despite their claims, probably isn’t Europe.

Jon Klassen fans, rejoice: a new laugh-out-loud book can be added to the read-aloud rotation. X. Fang’s We Are Definitely Human is a delightful, humorous romp about human kindness towards strangers.

Fang, author of Dim Sum Palace, pleasantly subverts the text with illustrations that will leave kids giggling as Mrs. Li finds the guests sleeping on couches in all the wrong ways, serves breakfast only for one of the strangers to use their toast to clean their armpits, and listens as they explain their European identities and jobs like “making business” and “wearing hat.” The strong, striking shapes of the definitely human visitors, which Mr. Li finds “very hard to describe,” make for memorable character design.

This warm and giggle-worthy tale will please young readers—whether human or definitely human. Pair with Klassen’s The Rock from the Sky and Jess Hannigan’s Spider in the Well for a perfect storytime.

A new laugh-out-loud book can be added to the read-aloud rotation: X. Fang’s We Are Definitely Human is a delightful, humorous romp about human kindness towards strange visitors.
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Sometime during the bleak 11th century, 17-year-old Roscille’s father sends her away to marry Macbeth, the fact that she does not wish to leave the land of her birth inconsequential to father’s need for allies. The large, brutish Thane looks “born right from the land of Glammis itself, right out of the earth,” and Roscille senses no warmth from him—only deep, unending cruelty.

Macbeth wants to marry Roscille for one reason: her magic. Roscille wears a veil at all times to hide her eyes, which can compel mortal men to do as she wishes. That power, combined with the witches Macbeth keeps chained beneath his castle, can help him fulfill the numerous prophecies about him and improve his political position. But Roscille does not wish to be his partner nor share his marital bed, to “submit herself to him like all the world’s women have before,” and as she fearfully starts to try and pull the strings of power, it sets off a chain of events that could both destroy the few people she cares about and force her to join the witches in the cold and the dark.

Author Ava Reid (Juniper and Thorn, The Wolf and the Woodsman) seems unconcerned with exploring the original themes and dynamics of the Scottish play. Instead, Macbeth is used as set dressing for a story about a young girl wed into terrible circumstances, a decision that will please fans of historical-inspired horror more than it will Shakespeare aficionados. Roscille’s main goal is to manipulate her way out of sharing Macbeth’s marital bed; unlike her theatrical counterpart, she is not concerned with power outside of how it keeps her safe. Despite the signs of distress and uncertainty Macbeth shows early on, any nuances in the Thane’s character vanish as he becomes a leader consumed by foolish and cruel ambition, a misandrist caricature that feels vaguely anti-Scottish and eradicates any moral complexity in Reid’s retelling.

Reid’s attention to stark, dark historical details combined with Roscille’s constant fear and anxiety (“her mind writhes with possibilities, like maggots in rotten meat”) gives Lady Macbeth an unearthly, nightmarish quality. Fans of the romance in Reid’s previous works will not find it here. Though Roscille does get a few moments of reprieve in her conversations with a spindly yet protective hagseed prince—”hagseed” meaning the son of a witch, and thus immune to Roscille’s eyes—Lady Macbeth is a horror novel about survival. Roscille has heard stories about sexual assault, spends the entire book fearing it and ultimately endures being raped by her husband as well as threats and physical abuse from men she once considered manipulable allies. Roscille feels herself going mad, though mileage may vary on whether readers find this ever-present danger thematically appropriate or wearying. Only in the last few chapters, as Roscille begins to understand her power, does retribution both magical and personal arrive.

Readers seeking stories of abuse survivors finally conquering their abuser and fans of grimdark historical fantasy will find Lady Macbeth elegantly written and right up their alley.

Readers seeking stories of abuse survivors finally conquering their abuser and fans of grimdark historical fantasy will find Lady Macbeth elegantly written and right up their alley.
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Tara didn’t expect that her academic success would cause her to skip eighth grade and hurl her away unexpectedly from middle school and into the labyrinthian hallways of high school. At 13, she doesn’t feel ready for any of it: not the raucous boys, the way her interests suddenly seem juvenile, or the seemingly constant changes exploding around her.

Tara’s imagination serves her well when playing with her little brother, but it also causes her anxiety to run rampant—until she meets Libby, a girl in her English class. Libby is smart and funny and makes the classroom full of wrestling-obsessed boys tolerable. But how can Tara impress Libby enough to convince her to become her friend? It’s not enough for Tara to just be herself, right?

Eisner Award-nominated cartoonist Emma Hunsinger makes her graphic novel debut with the candid and comical How It All Ends. This book simply gets the weirdness tweens and teens can feel when shoved into a new situation; the strange and hilarious mundanity of high school; and the inner strength it takes to be who you are in the face of all that chaos.

Hunsinger’s unique illustrations truly shine: Rarely do text and images work in as perfect harmony to tell a story. Color tracks and heightens emotions: red as Tara’s imagination runs wild, a muted and friendly blue for lower intensity moments, and yellow when Tara is overwhelmed by feelings. The simple line work of Hunsinger’s facial expressions captures characters’ feelings perfectly and hilariously.

How It All Ends is a sensational debut, one to put Hunsinger on the must-read list of every kid who picks up the book. Hand this to fans of Raina Telgemeier and Alice Oseman: They will devour it and ask for more.

 

How It All Ends simply gets the weirdness tweens and teens can feel when shoved into a new situation; the strange and hilarious mundanity of high school; and the inner strength it takes to be who you are in the face of all that chaos.
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Hellevir can raise the dead, but Death demands a price. The gatekeeper of the afterlife makes demands of the rural herbalist for each life she reclaims, wanting a small part of Hellevir’s body as payment.

After Hellevir saves her mother from Death’s embrace, word of her ability spreads. When Princess Sullivain is assassinated, the queen demands Hellevir save the princess’ life—and once revivified, Sullivain demands Hellevir stay by her side. With Hellevir’s family under threat from the Crown if she does not comply, she is forced into the middle of court machinations and must try to find her freedom without literally carving away too much of herself. As assassins continue to come for Sullivain and as Death sets riddles for Hellevir to solve, she’ll have to trust her instincts and abilities before civil war crumbles the kingdom and destroys all the people she holds dear.

Fans of dark fairy tales and political schemes will find much to love in Marianne Gordon’s debut fantasy novel, The Gilded Crown. The only place that dwarfs Gordon’s fully realized main setting of Rochidain, a city where multiple faiths are at odds with one another, is Death’s realm, with its mirrored sky and enigmatic gatekeeper. The whole cast of characters is well-developed and compelling. Rather than foolish, Hellevir’s naiveté concerning city life and her staunch beliefs in the importance of all lives—from small ravens and cats to the princess herself—is endearing and unusually optimistic. Sullivain’s determination to do what is best for her city, despite her guilt over killing innocents to keep the peace, makes her a fascinating foil to Hellevir. Other standouts include Hellevir’s religious mother, Hellevir’s brother and the knight he loves and, of course, Death himself. 

While clearly first in a planned duology, the book’s conclusion will still satisfy readers who prefer standalones. But The Gilded Crown skimps on its romance. Sullivain and Hellevir are soulbound by Hellevir’s multiple resurrections of the princess and supposedly develop feelings for each other in their brief interactions. But the two women do not ultimately spend much time together, which makes Hellevir’s growing obsession with Sullivain at the cost of her family seem a bit unearned. Nevertheless, readers who adored Hannah Whitten’s The Foxglove King and Hannah Kaner’s Godkiller will find The Gilded Crown a lyrical, fantastical addition to their shelves.

Fans of dark fairy tales will find much to love in Marianne Gordon’s The Gilded Crown, which follows a young woman tasked with repeatedly resurrecting a princess.
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In Garden Glen, every building is the same except for the “tumbledown house” that now belongs to Millie Fleur La Fae and her mother. The barren yard needs some love, so Millie decides to fill it with her favorite poisonous plants: sore toothwort, fanged fairymoss, tentacled tansy and a dozen other curious flowers and herbs.

Unused to something so new and weird, the people of Garden Glen protest outside Millie’s fence, but Millie and her mother know that the garden is just misunderstood. Millie invites her new neighbors to tour the garden, where they find themselves “astonished,” “grossed out” and “at times, a little nervous.” Can Millie’s neighbors learn how charming her creepy plants can be?

Time to throw away summer plans: Kids will want to spend all their time digging in the dirt after reading Millie Fleur’s Poison Garden. This charming picture book from author-illustrator Christy Mandin (The Storytellers Rule) pays homage to classic and beloved creeps like those featured in Frankenstein and The Addams Family while simultaneously creating its own—in the form of original plants. From curdled milkweed to witches wort, the abundant puns are sure to please kids who love a joke, as well as those who enjoy fantastical imagery.

The heart of Millie Fleur’s Poison Garden is, of course, Millie Fleur. Young readers will leave inspired by Millie’s refusal to hide what she loves, no matter how weird it may be. Backmatter includes information on different easy-to-care-for plants and the real history of poison gardens. This plant-filled tome will be a great pick for parents and teachers looking for an educational moment on embracing identity and rebuking bullying, or a quirky gardening lesson.

Millie Fleur’s Poison Garden is made for the oddballs, who will love it. Pair with Flavia Z. Drago’s Gustavo the Shy Ghost and Jess Hannigan’s Spider in the Well.

Time to throw away summer plans: Kids will want to spend all their time digging in the dirt after reading Millie Fleur’s Poison Garden.

Running Close to the Wind

Avra Helvaçi is lucky, perhaps supernaturally so, but he refuses to believe that. Luck can’t be proven, after all. Did he test the limits of his luck by drunkenly traipsing into a highly protected vault of the Arasti government and stealing the most powerful secret of the empire without getting caught? Well, yes, but that could just be coincidence.

With copies of Arasti intelligence hidden on him, Avra flees to the high seas and back into the arms of his on-again, off-again partner, the intimidating pirate captain Teveri az-Haffar. Tev wants nothing more to do with the spy-turned-poet-turned-traitor, but selling Avra’s secret could solve his ship’s financial problems. Can they get to the Isles of Lost Souls to fence what Avra stole before the Arasti government finds them, the hot monk on the ship drives them mad or before the isles’ infamous cake competition concludes?

A standalone novel set in the world of author Alexandra Rowland’s A Taste of Gold and Iron, Running Close to the Wind and its self-proclaimed “silly little slut” of a narrator will have readers laughing on every page. Despite the book’s zany, breezy to a fault tone, the Isle of Souls and the many political machinations of background characters are refreshingly complex, and Avra’s “Is it blessed?” luck is a fascinating story element. Yet it is the characters that make this story shine. Though some readers are sure to find Avra’s gremlin-esque behavior aggravating, as Tev often does, the rest of the cast makes up for it. Standouts include the flustered yet noble Tev, knowledge-driven and rebellious monk Julian, secretly softhearted fence Black Garda and friendly sex worker Cat.

Though Avra thinks—and speaks—constantly of sex and how hot Julian and Tev both are, there are few actual romantic moments, and Rowland cuts away from any on-page love scenes. Fantasy romance aficionados will find themselves as blue-balled as Avra often claims to feel. However, “Our Flag Means Death” devotees looking for a lighthearted solace after the show’s unfortunate cancellation and fans of whimsical main characters a la Alexis Hall’s Mortal Follies will enjoy Running Close to the Wind.

—Nicole Brinkley

Dreadful

Dread Lord Gavrax has somehow lost his memory, and is unable to recall why he decided to become a Dread Lord in the first place. Gav, as he now calls himself, decides to change his life for the better by vanquishing his rage and toxic masculinity. Complicating matters is the presence of Princess Eliasha, whom Gavrax kidnapped before his hard cognitive reset. Eliasha is determined not to trust her captor’s sudden change of heart, and understandably so: Dread Lord Gavrax has committed a great many crimes. The princess is also a key ingredient in a mysterious ritual of great power. Dread Lord Gavrax is one of four Dark Wizards that are collaborating to do something very important . . . if only Gav could remember what that something is.

Throughout Caitlin Rozakis’ Dreadful, Gav faces several simple yet charming challenges, such as finding a way to save a starving village and undoing years of fear he instilled in his goblin staff. While Gav grows and learns from his and his former self’s mistakes, a series of sitcom-esque events nudge him onto the path of righteousness. His goblin cook, Orla, is thrilled to don an apron and cook truly good food—but she only knows how to cook steaks, bake bread and shove whole (occasionally alive) animals into pie crust. The village decides to throw a garlic festival to make up for the fact that all of their other crops failed. Heroes run in by the hundreds, tripping over each other in an effort to rescue the princess. Dreadful never takes itself too seriously, so moments that could induce secondhand cringe become hilarious escapades instead.

However, Rozakis’ story is not all jokes and gags. Gavrax had serious issues with his own masculinity alongside his relationship with women, and Gav is not immune to his former self’s impulses. Violence is still a reflex, and he must resist incinerating anyone who annoys him. He also must learn to choose other people and his dawning sense of morality over his own self-preservation. Rozakis unobtrusively guides the reader through Gav’s evolution via his inner monologue, never allowing the lessons to get preachy.

With its charming cast and unique mixture of slapstick and sincerity, Dreadful is a heartwarmingly earnest story about how to grow into a better person.

—Ralph Harris

Two tales of swords and sorcery from Alexandra Rowland and Caitlin Rozakis look on the brighter side of life.
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Maya Hoshimoto swears that her time as a thief is behind her. She used to travel across the galaxy returning stolen artifacts to nonhuman civilizations, until a job gone wrong nearly cost both her life and the life of her best friend, the Frenro alien Auncle. Studying anthropological archives as a graduate student is much safer, but Maya is plagued with visions of a future only she can prevent, one seemingly connected to the doomed expedition of a long-dead space archaeologist who stole a Frenro artifact. 

With government officials breathing down their necks, Maya and Auncle tear off into deep space with the help of a new motley crew to find the so-called stardust grail first. If they can decipher the clues and figure out the hidden location of the relic, it could help save Auncle’s civilization and keep the interstellar gates around Earth open. But it isn’t long before Maya discovers how many people are keeping secrets and how close to war the universe is—and it may be up to her to decide who gets saved. 

Star Trek meets Indiana Jones in this anti-colonial space heist from The Deep Sky author Yume Kitasei. The Stardust Grail blends horror, adventure and fantastical whimsy into an expeditious adventure. Kitasei’s explorations of various nonhuman civilizations will fascinate, and her alien characters are so endearing. Auncle’s whimsical optimism—and love of hats—makes for an especially standout character. 

There are no easy answers to the moral and political quandaries presented in The Stardust Grail. Ultimately, it’s Maya’s hope she’s doing the right thing and belief in her friends that guide her through the story’s breakneck, if occasionally muddled, finale. Fans of Ryka Aoki, Ann Leckie and Becky Chambers will find much to love in this fast-paced, expansive adventure.

Star Trek meets Indiana Jones in Yume Kitasei’s anti-colonial space heist, The Stardust Grail.
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Little Shrew lives a life similar to most people: He wakes up, goes to work and comes home to do his daily chores. But certain ordinary things are exciting enough to disrupt his neatly maintained schedule: solving his Rubik’s Cube, finding an old television set for sale and having friends visit his house. Soon, Little Shrew has a dream to leave behind his mundane life and visit a tropical island, “a beautiful place, like the one on the television.” But can the life he has continue to enchant him until that day?

Akiko Miyakoshi (I Dream of a Journey) quietly charms with Little Shrew, a cozy collection of three stories in which muted visuals in a rustic palette—created with Miyakoshi’s signature mix of wood charcoal, acrylic gouache and pencil—are paired perfectly with soothing yet sparse text, truly setting the mood of each story. 

Though Little Shrew dreams of going somewhere grand, it is the small things in his life that shine brightest. The best part of his day is when Little Shrew “buys two rye bread rolls and one white roll,” inspiration for an illustration that will immediately make readers long for a bakery. He lists beloved gifts from friends, which are as meaningful as any trip: “A jar of cherry blossom honey harvested in the spring. Mushrooms and chestnuts gathered in autumn. Fancy chocolate bars.” 

Little Shrew feels calm and grounded in a way that few picture books do. Readers will be left considering  the quiet, enchanting moments they can find amidst the humdrum of their daily lives. Little Shrew will be a beloved addition to the shelves of readers who loved Phoebe Wahl’s Little Witch Hazel or Yeorim Yoon’s It’s Ok, Slow Lizard, or fans of cozy classics and their film adaptations like Paddington and Winnie the Pooh.  

Little Shrew feels calm and grounded in a way that few picture books do. Readers will be left considering the quiet, enchanting moments they can find amidst the humdrum of their daily lives.
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Marigold Claude is the least talented woman in her artsy family. She’s resigned to her fate as a spinster, flouncing away from suitors and fleeing balls to dance barefoot with spirits beneath the full moon. So when her grandmother offers Marigold the chance to be the next Honey Witch, the protector of the isle of Innisfree, the decision feels easy. Marigold doesn’t feel like she belongs in her town, but Innisfree, with its magical guardians and abundant plant life, could be home.

The title of Honey Witch, however, comes with consequences: An Ash Witch wants the isle for herself and has cursed the Honey Witches to live without romantic love. It isn’t until her grandmother dies that Marigold realizes how lonely a curse that can be—especially once Lottie, a beautiful, grumpy skeptic who refers to magic as “mythwork,” arrives in her life and upends everything she thought about love.

But the Ash Witch is waiting for a moment of weakness. If Marigold doesn’t learn how to control her magic and break the curse, her island, her family and the feisty woman who holds her heart are all at risk.

“Wild women are their own kind of magic” in Sydney J. Shields’ The Honey Witch. The pacing of this ambrosiac fantasy might leave diehard romance fans wanting more—Lottie is not involved in the first third, which rushes the sweetly erotic love story—but the whimsical world is more than enough to keep most readers enthralled. Shields’ descriptions of elements such as the landvaettir spirits that guard Innisfree and the blossoming gardens of Marigold’s familial home are impeccably lush. The coziness of the setting is offset by grief and a sense of impending disaster. Marigold spends much of her time reminiscing on loneliness and lost love, and even as the book buzzes towards its predictable, happy finale, the curse and the Ash Witch’s arrival bring destruction and terror.

At its heart, however, The Honey Witch focuses on the internal strength of its characters and how “anyone can be capable of something impossible.” Shields’ warmhearted fantasy will satisfy readers of sapphic romances who love the alternate historical world of “Bridgerton” or who grew up rewatching Halloweentown and Practical Magic.

The Honey Witch will satisfy readers of sapphic romances who love the alternate historical world of “Bridgerton” and grew up rewatching Halloweentown and Practical Magic.
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Being afraid of the dark is “a family thing” for the young moth protagonist of Shine. When the sun goes down, he doesn’t want to leave his cozy home, but the twinkling stars give him the strength to fly away from his family and discover how many creatures there are to befriend—in particular, a host of fireflies.  

However, fireflies aren’t the only animals in the dark. Despite his fright, can the moth discover the bravery he needs to keep his new friends safe? 

Debut author-illustrator Bruno Valasse pulls from his own childhood fear of the dark in this inspirational picture book, which encourages children with the knowledge that “together, we can always be a light in the darkness.” 

Where Shine glows brightest is in Valasse’s illustrations. An earthy, muted palette allows Valasse’s fantastic creatures to take center stage as our moth friend hides among mushrooms, camouflages against an owl and hides other bugs within his wings. This beautiful artwork may inspire parents to theme a room around its imagery, and make little kids want to design big, beautiful wings of their own.

The sparse text of Shine is perfect for its message, but the short book may not be enough for eager young readers who fall in love with Valasse’s whimsical illustrations. Those kids will find that Shine pairs well with books like Phoebe Wahl’s Little Witch Hazel and Yeorim Yoon’s It’s Ok, Slow Lizard. But for parents who love to read nature-driven, emotional tales to their children before bed, Shine will provide a beautifully illustrated, bite-sized storytime.

For parents who love to read nature-driven, emotional tales to their children before bed, Shine will provide a beautifully illustrated, bite-sized storytime.
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When royal guard Reyna almost dies in service of wicked Queen Tilaine, she decides that it’s time to hang up her boots and take up an offer from her longtime girlfriend, Kianthe, to run away and open a bookshop. Is it technically treason? Yes, but Reyna is an expert swordsperson and Kianthe is the Arcandor, the most powerful mage in the world. With their talents, they’re sure they can stay beneath the queen’s radar.

Together, the two women flee to Tawney, a tiny mountain town on the border of the Queendom. Despite being plagued with dragon attacks and bandits, it offers the perfect sanctuary for the couple to craft their dream store, which features wooden floors, abundant plant life, a lending library of books and a wide selection of teas. As long as they stick to their pseudonyms and fake backstories, they should be fine. But the town is full of mishaps and mysteries, and the couple can’t help but stick their noses into everything. Did the previous town leaders steal dragon eggs? Who is sending aspiring kid bandits to their store? And most importantly: Can Reyna and Kianthe make this strange new life work?

Rebecca Thorne’s Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea is a fantasy for readers itching for soft escapism above all else. There’s a creative world around Reyna and Kianthe, but it’s primarily a backdrop as Thorne focuses on the townsfolk of Tawney and the gentle emotional drama of her central couple. Despite the illusion of high stakes, problems big and small are quickly fixed or hand-waved away. Though the couple frets about money, repairs and inventory are purchased with funds to spare; larger issues, from the murderous queen to the raiding dragons, remain in the background and are resolved with ease. Even spats between Kianthe and Reyna are swiftly and affectionately settled as they reassure each other that they’ve made the right decision and that their love, like Kianthe’s ever-flame, will never fade. 

Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea is an ambling romantic adventure for those who prefer episodic, sentimental stories. Fans of emotionally-driven tabletop games like Wanderhome and cozy fantasies like Legends & Lattes will find this a soothing addition to their shelves.

Rebecca Thorne’s Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea is a romantic fantasy for readers itching for soft escapism above all else.

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