[Review] A Darkness Forged in Fire (Iron Elves #1), by Chris Evans

Evans’ debut novel A Darkness Forged in Fire—the first instalment in the Iron Elves Trilogy—shows off Evans’ passion for military history and fantasy, by joining the two in a gritty, imaginative marriage where army life and Napoleonic era tactics coexist with fantasy staples. The trilogy continues with The Light of Burning Shadows and will be completed by Ashes of a Black Frost, due for release in summer 2011.

Konowa Swift Dragon has led his regiment into shame and exile: he murdered a Viceroy and now the honour of the Iron Elves is as bloodied as his hands. A shamed regiment, stripped of everything—including their leader—the once glorious elves are but a stain on the Calahrian Empire’s colours. Konowa, court-marshalled and banished, has had plenty of time to dwell on his predicament as he wanders the dense forests he despises so fervently, with only his loyal bengar, Jir, to keep him sane.

But with a darkness on the horizon blacker than Konowa’s mood, the former commander is wrenched from his misery and thrust back into the fray. With a new draft of soldiers to fill his beloved Iron Elves—and not a single elf amongst them—Konowa must face not only the rising elf-witch, the Shadow Monarch, as she vies for domination, but also himself. Deep in the forest, ordered to find the scattered original Iron Elves, under the constant scrutiny of an inexperienced, adventure-seeking prince, charged not only with defeating the rising evil with which his destiny intertwines, but restoring order throughout the Empire, Konowa will soon realise that his black ear-tip—the Shadow Monarch’s mark on her chosen soldiers—along with his fate, cannot be forgotten.

For the Empire

Whilst it is the grander scheme of the Shadow Monarch that underpins the series thus far, without the innovative and insightful details into the Iron Elves as a living, breathing branch of the Imperial army, the notion of a powerful sorceress bent on world destruction would come across too clichéd. Instead, the Calahrian Empire’s struggle to maintain order as she struggles to promote her own brand of progress—as equally important as defeating the Shadow Monarch—coupled with the raw mechanics of a regiment on the move, actively fighting the forces of the elf-witch, whilst dealing with its own problems, brought by injury, death and obligation, present the old cliché in brand new colours: the colours of the Imperial army. Everything is in the name of the Queen, whether Konowa and his men like it or not.

Dwarves need not apply

A regiment smells, and A Darkness Forged in Fire captures this scent in every page. The soldiers of the Iron Elves are diverse and it is through them that the regiment is given life: a religious zealot, a single grudge-bearing elf of the original Iron Elves, a sly trouble-maker and a mismatched pair whose camaraderie invites the reader deeper into the unit.

Reluctantly sworn into the Iron Elves, is Alwyn; a bespectacled young man, whose eyesight is as bad as Yimt’s manners (a veteran dwarf whose stories will make your hair curl) and whose courage is always shaken, but never shattered. Together, Alwyn and Yimt—the only dwarf in the unit and sworn in by pure cheek alone—pull the reader to the level of the soldiers, away from the lofty, tense world in which Konowa—at the side of the prince—exists in the unit, and through their friendship a real taste of what their life in the cursed Iron Elves is like is offered.

Green magic

As a counterpart to the grit of the Iron Elves, the side of those opposed to the Empire is given, though not as the Iron Elves’ adversaries, rather, as companions and allies. Visyna Tekoy—high-born noble from Elfkyna, sent to drag Konowa from exile—wields a gentle magic and even gentler respect for nature that clashes with Konowa’s strong detestation of the forests of his birth, despite the seeds of turbulent romance planted between the two. Another female seeks to balance out the thick macho cast—or would, if she weren’t brasher than most of the men combined. Rallie, official reporter for the Queen, is a cigar-smoking old crone, who whilst she is more than she first seems, remains a constant oracle, doling out guidance and advice to Konowa and to the unit, delivering both wit and wisdom as she sketches her way through trouble, chain-smoking all the while. Although brash, Rallie’s subtle gentility and mysterious powers make her a close confidant for Visyna and a solid pillar to which to wine about Konowa and the Empire.

 Marching narrative

The style is straightforward, without droning on, and whilst details about the setting are presented, they’re not as important to Evans’ as the plot. The setting is explained as the story progresses, and little time is devoted to the background of the situation: enough is divulged and explained meticulously to allow the reader to continue happily and immerse themselves in the world, although readers expecting a military-standard, encompassing description of the Empire’s rise will find themselves disappointed.

Keep it moving

The weakest point of the book is movement, especially during battles: it appears at times that Evans’ has completed forgotten to move his characters as they fight. This is especially true of the final battle of the book, where it seems Konowa and another officer observe the fight from stationary places, like cardboard cut outs, when in fact, the narrative and dialogue suggest they actively participate. Furthermore, the descriptions of both the elf-witch’s magic and its effects, especially during battles, bring down the overall excellence of the book, as sometimes it is just too difficult to grasp precisely what is transpiring, and the reader needs to grasp at the following narrative to understand the resulting situation.

Why should you read this book?

A Darkness Forged in Fire is a different take on commonplace fantasy elements, combining both sorcery and military conquest, with classic sword-clashing and a struggle to save the world from death and darkness. It is a vivid and gripping debut, by an imaginative and strong writer, whose strengths far outweigh his weaknesses, and whose original, vibrant characters bring the world to life in place. If you’re a fan of elves, but fancy something grittier, something different, then give Konowa and his Iron Elves a try.

4/5

[Review] The Light of Burning Shadows (Iron Elves #2), Chris Evans

The second instalment of Evans’ Iron Elves (you can read my review of the first, A Darkness Forged in Fire over at The Ranting Dragon) sees him further explore the world he created in the first of the trilogy, taking the story to an entirely different geographical region, and push the concept and use of magic in his setting and plot.

His characters not only grow and evolve as people, but as instruments of the plotline, too, which progresses to a deeper level in this second sitting, paving the way for the third and final instalment—Ashes of a Black Frost—later this year (2011).

Konowa Swift Dragon—formerly banished, then reinstated to lead (under royal supervision) the Iron Elves—has a problem. Several problems, in fact.  With another star on the horizon, and a rising shadow that threatens to destroy the Empire and everything else that stands in its path, the Iron Elves had better get marching.

Forced by circumstance, Konowa adds his father and mother—formerly a shape-changing squirrel, and powerful witch respectively—to the company he must travel with. Insomuch as his father is tolerable, his mother’s constant ‘motherness’ is wearing him to the nerve. As if one controlling female wasn’t enough, his decisions and actions are constantly questioned by the closest thing he’s had to a ‘love interest’ in years, in the shape of another witch—Visyna—whose tongue bites deeper than he’d like to admit.

With two female witches flanking him, it’s little surprise that Konowa could do without the Queen’s reporter, Rallie, still dogging his regiment’s steps. She’s supposedly there to report all that transpires back to Her Majesty, but of course, even the Major knows he needs the mysterious old woman. Her memory about her own past and age is as sketchy as the magically imbued drawings she produces in times of need, and her wisdom and advice might grate, added to the constant tirades from the other two witches, but Rallie’s proven she’s twice as competent as any of Konowa’s “Iron Elves.”

Adding insult to injury, his superior in the regiment he used to head is an adventuring princeling, still focussed more on adding artefacts and knowledge to his collection, than defeating the dark evil spreading across the land. With Prince Tykkin comes a higher station, and having ventured to the very desert lands his original Iron Elves were banished to, Konowa is less than pleased having to play politics. He should be out there, hunting the Shadow Monarch down.

Although that in itself is easier said than done, when Konowa himself still feels her power, senses her call. The acorn his father stole from her mountain has become both a point of power and comfort; with it, he believes he’s able to use the power imbued in him by being born with her mark—his shorn-off black ear tip—but control it, rather than succumb to it.

With the Shadow Monarch’s power spreading, along with her black forest, and with the curse hanging over the regiment’s collective head, time is of the essence to find the original Iron Elves before they fall into the hands of their enemy. The Major knows to hope is futile, yet deep down he hopes once recovered, the elves he used to fight with will rejoin his ranks.

But if Kritton is anything to go by, when they find the elves, they’d probably sooner stick him with a bayonet, than look at him.

                      

A further complication arises within Konowa’s own ranks. Since his brush with death, Ally has been acting strangely, and since their arrival in the desert, stranger yet. Touched deeper by both the curse, and something unexplained, Ally’s power is great. Plagued constantly by the pain in his leg, and warned of an evil in the desert, his mind is not where it should be—it is fading. But to where, even Alwyn doesn’t yet know. With the notion of burning shadows, and white hot pain in his mind, the deeper into the desert they venture, the more restless Ally becomes, until events come to a head, in a more terrifying fashion that anyone could imagine.

As an old evil—as old as the Shadow Monarch herself—is awakened from beneath the sand and monsters of a different sort thwart the regiment’s attempts against the Shadow Monarch, things begin to look bleak. Living as he has been, already somewhat detached from the regiment and the “Ally” he used to be, constantly drawn to the cursed Darkly Departed soldiers, Alwyn undergoes a devastatingly terrible transformation that sees him change forever. The old Alwyn might soon be gone.

Evans’ marching narrative was one of the best parts of A Darkness Forged in Fire, and although The Light of Burning Shadows sees the story move to a different continent, and spends more time travelling by boat than foot at first, the excellently paced narrative remains. The regiment is still “marching” onward, despite being afloat, and then stationary for a time. The relentless pace of the narrative mimics a regiment—constantly moving at a steady, yet determined pace. Obviously this can pose problems when battle descends, as the narrative must either break rhythm, or remain slow and cumbersome during fast-pace skirmishes. This is where Evans’ issue with ‘movement’ in battle likely comes from. Just as in A Darkness Forged in Fire, Evans struggles to convey clarity when describing actions and events during battle; characters don’t move as much as they should, and what actually happens can be confusing to discern. Often during longer battle scenes, re-reading entire paragraphs is necessary to truly understand what is happening. This is especially true of the use of magic.

As we saw in the first of the trilogy, Evans’ use of magic is somewhat unique, in that his antagonist possesses some of her power through a somewhat cancerous forest that spreads across the land. This, mixed with the new magic Evans introduces in the desert, married with Rallie, Visyna’s and his mother’s magic, becomes somewhat messy and strained. If all these magics could co-exist clearly and be understood next to one another, there would be no issue. This doesn’t happen; especially when in the thick of battle and more magics than in the final battle of a Dungeons & Dragons game are flying about. The descriptions and clarity of the black forests are not comprehensive enough for Evans to toss the new magic relevant to the desert, as well as all other characters’ magics into the fray.

Why should I read this book?

Because it’s an excellent follow-up to A Darkness Forged in Fire, and is a good step forward in the Iron Elves trilogy. It has its failings, yet none are detrimental enough to simply put the book down and walk away. True enough, this is somewhat of a let-down after the mesmerising start to the trilogy; it’s simply not as good, and the content—in places—crosses a little too close to cliché-land. All of this book’s problems are in the desert. It feels as though Evans’ got a little lost in his own plot, by introducing such a large plot point—another old magic—in the desert, whilst the regiment is merely searching for the previous Iron Elves. Understanding that the Iron Elves is to be a trilogy, and having read the synopsis for the third book—which seems to completely brush aside events of book two, retaining only what happens with Alwyn—it’s difficult to praise The Light of Burning Shadows as part of the series. The plot, issues and events in book one set the tone and the world, as well as the tone of things to come; for Evans’ to seemingly stray so far from the initial point of the trilogy seems a little distressing. Most of what made A Darkness Forged in Fire an excellent read, is missing here, replaced instead by clichéd monsters and a climax that—if not for the appearance of a dragonlike thing—would be better placed in The Mummy films. It just didn’t work for me.

That said, I did enjoy the book: the characters keep the reader there. Konowa, with all his imperfections and inner and outer conflicts keeps the reader glued to the page, wondering how he’ll overcome the Shadow Monarch. The regiment as a whole, with its unique and interesting characters, keeps the reader wondering what will happen to them, the cursed regiment. Characters and characterisation keeps the reader interested, and the very last page of the book does more to keep the reader glued to the trilogy than any other point of the book, rectifying some of the ‘damage’ done by the lack of clarity and awkward last battle.

Not fantastic, but perhaps a necessary step in the trilogy. The third, and final book, should invariably be much better.

3.5/5

[Review] Among Thieves (A Tale of the Kin) by Douglas Hulick

I’d heard a great deal about the book I’m reviewing today—I’d heard people say great things; interesting things; and even a few things I was unsure of, especially regarding a certain Amazon.co.uk blurb. However, I’m a sucker for books that everyone’s talking about—especially if they’re fantasy.

The first thing that strikes about Among Thieves: A tale of the Kin, is that Drothe is the bad guy—at least in part—and that whilst the reader should already be flagging him as a ruffian and a lowlife, already the intrigued reader is merely altering the bearings of their moral compass to fit.

Drothe is a Nose (those unfamiliar with this sort of street-talk can probably discern the nature of his work, but for those who’re purer in the fantasy they read, told in the first person, by Drothe himself, explanations of the more important aspects are helpfully included); a damn good nose, at that. From the get-go there are no illusions as to his nature, but despite his grey areas, Drothe instantly presents as a likeable, fun and downright awesome character.

Among Thieves is atmospheric above all else: the setting is artfully vague, but presents enough stock fantasy architecture to allow the reader to assimilate a view of the city. For me, Ildrecca (my own jury is still out on the pronunciation, as I’m seeing Italian double-c sounds here, assisted by the knowledge that Douglas Hulick totes a degree in Medieval History, and fences in the Italian style) is a warm, sandy—or muddy, or cobbled, it depends!—city with old air and older stone. A city constantly built, torn down, and rebuilt again, Ildrecca captures a warm, Southern European medieval vibe, whilst sprinkling in its own fantasy imaginings.

City-set fantasies draw me in far quicker than vast plains and valleys traversed on horseback, and I’d rather streets, than tracts: Ildrecca delivers here, and Hulick’s obvious talent brings the city to life within mere pages. Ildrecca is his city. Moreover, it is Drothe’s city, and as he guides us around, going about his life, we see, hear, smell and taste it firsthand.

The basic premise is that Drothe is Kin: a member of the criminal underworld, essentially preying on other Kin, occasionally the Rags, and finally, the Lighters (‘normal’ people who live in the ‘light’, instead of the ‘dark’ the Kin permeate). In addition, Drothe is looking for a relic—a pen, we find out in due course—and its acquisition is proving not only difficult, but appears to be involving him in something deeper and darker in nature. Relics are tricky things as it is—trinkets touched by one of the incarnations of the eternal emperor, highly valued and even higher risk—let alone a trinket that happens to contain blasphemous musings of a woman once close to the emperor, before he became eternal, before the practice of his endless reincarnation.

Drothe wouldn’t usually get involved—too high risk, too messy, and definitely out of a Nose’s league when there’re Degans, White Sashes and (worst of all) the Grey Princes of the Kin after the book—but choice isn’t always easily come by, and the Nose winds up finding himself light a few pounds of the luxury.  

Before long, the Nose realises that to stay alive in this game—let alone stay ahead—he’s going to have to insert himself right where he doesn’t want to be: in the thick of it. With an organisation, a secret family relation, and, whilst he’s at it, the entire Kin to protect, Drothe’s decision to play this dangerous game is not as much his own as his bravado will have you think.

With excellent pacing, mysterious relics and a handful of secret players who’ve not yet taken to the stage, let alone placed their markers, Drothe soon realises that he’ll not only be playing one side against the other, but might have to factor a few things he’s not so willing to gamble on in the stakes—friendship, loyalty, and despite himself, honour.

There may be no honour amongst thieves, but when it comes to Drothe, he clearly missed the memo.

Hulick’s debut is literally stunning: there’s nothing to fault. Friendships are handled superbly, and contrasted perfectly against his relationships with the fellow Kin he must use and abuse along the way. Drothe’s desperation, panic and sheer terror drive the plot onwards, and each chapter adds to the breathtakingly wide-reaching plot. Twists are delivered skilfully, whilst the overall plot is seamlessly joined, with the links between events and characters hidden beneath layer upon layer of smooth storytelling.

There is nothing in this book that doesn’t surprise or delight. Absolutely nothing.

Among Thieves should appeal to fans outside the genre, too: the city setting is almost­-historical, and although the story revolves around glimmer (magic), it’s not too far a stretch to liken it to the alchemical and historical occult ‘magic’ found in so many alternative-history settings—especially in Medieval Europe.

At the heart of Among Thieves lies a mystery: a great portion of the book is dedicated to unravelling it, before the various puzzles can be threaded and linked together. In part, it’s also a treasure hunt—the relic is treasure. It’s old, it’s valuable, and it’s been lost for centuries.

Everything in this book aims to please, and it delivers effortlessly.

Why should I read this book?

You should read this book, not because Brent Weeks called it an ‘unalloyed pleasure’, and not because praise for this book has been splashed all over the internet. Not even because Hulick’s fresh and exciting new talent has been likened to the debuts of both Rothfuss and Abercrombie—but rather, because Among Thieves might possibly be the best book you’ll read for some time.

Unique, excellent and delivering far more than promised by the blurb, Among Thieves is an absolute pleasure and adventure to read. Fans will relish the fantasy-mystery, whilst newcomers will drink up the atmosphere of a city that appears so familiar, so real, that they’ll see the genre with fresh eyes, and understand that where there’s magic, there doesn’t have to be dragon eggs, or monsters.

All in all, an absolutely wonderful book. 

5/5

[Review] The King's Bastard (King Rolen's Kin #1), by Rowena Cory Daniells

Published in July 2010, the first instalment of The Chronicles of King Rolen’s King caught my eye thanks to the interesting blurb, and—if I’m honest—the dark style of art on the cover. Having read other novels supposedly rich in political intrigue and dangerous machinations that delivered as promised, yet lacked any characterisation whatsoever, I was expecting great things from this trilogy.

The first instalment of King Rolen’s Kin offers a deep insight into the royal family of Rolencia. Centred around the children of the present King Rolen—twins, Lence and Byren, the spare son, Fyn, and Rolen’s sole daughter, Piro—the novel sets the stage for what promises to be a ferociously witty, tense trilogy that will keep readers glued to the last word.

 Introducing an interesting magic system, clever geographical divides and a devastating game of Kings, The King’s Bastard might not be what the author set out for (“a story people can enjoy on a Saturday afternoon after a long week”—RCD), but that doesn’t mean it’s not an excellent read. In fact, it’s too quick-paced, sharp and jam-packed with betrayal, family feuds, and life-shattering secrets to be as the author describes it.

Rolencia is cold, even as the cusp of seasons approaches; snow and ice make the necessary culling of stray Affinity beasts difficult, political relations hinge on the marriage of Lence Kingsheir, and when a Warlord fails to renew his oath of loyalty to King Rolen, the world turns colder.

A game of Duelling Kingdoms is afoot, and not the tricky board-game played by Piro Kingsdaughter and her mother when the thirteen-year-old manages to push aside her approaching womanly duties as she matures. Piro longs for the adventure and freedom her brothers—even Fyn—receive, and would gladly swap her place at the palace for something more than the role she’ll eventually receive from her mother; a glorified housewife. But the secret Piro holds close to her heart might force her away from Rolenhold against her will: Piro holds Affinity and by Rolencia law (her father’s law) anyone touched by the Affinity of the Gods, gifted in the use of magic, must away to the abbeys. But perhaps Piro’s blossoming Affinity is the least of her worries…especially when her mother keeps whispering about her future and marriage.

Affinity must run in the family, then, Fyn Kingson decides. Essentially stripped of any real royal duty—save his name, which in turn creates more problems than if he were an ordinary monk at Halcyon Abbey—Fyn was shipped off to the abbey as a boy. With a kind heart and not a cruel streak about him, Fyn must find a way of becoming a Mystic, so that his Kingsheir brother, Lence, will not expect him to become the abbey’s Weaponsmaster and aid him in battle and war. At least as a Mystic he’ll still have some use to Lence, he hopes. The likelihood seems slim, however, when Fyn’s Affinity barely registered on the scale when first tested.

Bryen Kingson—seven minutes younger than the Kingsheir, Lence—knows little of Affinity, but when he happens upon a renegade Power-Worker (one touched with Affinity, but untrained at either of the abbeys) who delivers a deft prophecy, he cannot wash the old woman’s words away. Her insidious words claim the impossible, although try as he might, Byren is haunted by them. Unable to consider the old seer a fraud after she heals his lifelong friend from a fatal head wound, Byren would brush her vision away, had she not ventured to his mother—and unbeknownst to him, his brother Fyn, too—and spoke similarly penetrating words to the Queen of Rolencia.

With an increasing amount of Affinity seeps and Affinity beasts such as Manticores and Leogryfs prowling them, edging closer to the surrounding villages than comfort allows, danger leaves its mark in the Rolencian snows. Byren and his brother assist where they can, but with Byren outdoing Lence at every turn with seemingly no effort, should Byren really be surprised that his twin becomes locked in a tight friendship with their recently acknowledged bastard cousin, who does nothing but acknowledge his supremacy as Kingsheir? Desperate to disprove the old seer’s dying prophecy, Byren strives to bridge the sudden rift between them. With his own name hailed louder—“Byren Leogryfslayer!”—and those who would see him take his father’s throne, he has his work cut out—more so, given their cousin’s insidious tongue and sudden appearance in Rolencia.

Darker shadows stalk Fyn’s footsteps at the Abbey, with a game of power unfolding before his very eyes; a game in which he is the prized piece, despite his obliviousness to it thus far. Threats are issued, strong accusations seek to see him severely reprimanded, and vicious bullies move against him merely for being “Kingson”. Little does Fyn know, however dark his days at the Abbey may appear, that he should keep his friends close and his nerves steeled, for a deeper shadow is due to settle across his life at the Abbey, a shadow he knows he is barely equipped to fight.

    

Fresh in King Rolen’s mind is the betrayal of the Servants of Palos; lovers of men. Imagine Byren’s horror to find his friend to be one—a lover of men. With his friend disinherited by his father, and afraid of his own father’s reaction having been implicated as his friend’s lover somehow, Byren vows to protect his friend’s secret—but at what cost? The Kingson knows his father cannot separate “lover of men”, from “Servant of Palos”.

Whilst the inclusion of homosexuality is increasingly relevant, it seems in this instance to be only vaguely considered and barely thought-out. The relevancy of having been a Servant of Palos, and being homosexual is actually never discussed, and the reader is to simply accept that all followers of Palos were gay, and that all gay men are (considered) followers of this secret society steeped in betrayal. Of course, this is merely conveying the view of the culture, and can be accepted.

What further lets Daniells’ attempt at a very relevant theme down, is her characters’ reactions to it: whilst it is acceptable that Lence—the ‘headstrong’ twin—would be blinkered in his views, taking into account the character she has built for Byren, the younger twin would not be as judgemental in his views as he ends up being. Although Byren does accept that his friend is not a Servant of Palos, and merely prefers men, his behaviour swings from normal, to suspicious, to awkward. Acting as though he is in constant ‘danger’ from his friends’ (nonexistent) advances, whilst commenting in an offhand fashion that homosexuality amongst women is normal because “women are lovely”, degrades Byren’s whole intelligence and character. Byren is smarter than that, and he deserves to have been portrayed to the best of his wit and intelligence throughout.

Finally, the notion that homosexuality is wrong from a religious (or moral, or cultural) viewpoint—like Mark Charan Newton’s Legends of the Red Sun series—is a concept readers can grasp; it makes sense. To mark homosexuality (only for men) as wrongdoing, and linking it to a treacherous secret society in one country (it is not “illegal” in other countries in the novel) seems clumsy and pointless. Worse; it seems like an awkward plot device, as many occurrences revolve around Orrade’s homosexuality, and Byren’s desperation to conceal it, without incriminating himself.

At times during The King’s Bastard the plot speeds along so gracefully, so quickly that as the reader, there is a tangible tension; the expectation that something is going to crack is constant. This is a good thing. The plot is so well-paced, so full of subtle and poisonous machinations that the reader grows a little nervous at times, waiting for events to turn ill. Danger descends so swiftly and silently, that even the sleepier, relaxed scenes become filled with tension: this keeps the book interesting and pulls the reader along with every page. Seeing the story from three character’s viewpoints serves only to speed up the narrative and make the action come fast and quick, rather than trickling by. Although the first half of the book isn’t as gripping as the latter half, there is something to be said for the slower start; it settles the reader, welcomes them to this new world where Affinity is magic, King Rolen holds the throne, and war could be brewing. The pace of the latter half of The King’s Bastard varies from break-neck fast, to agonisingly controlled; Daniells’ draws out tension in all the right places, but ensures fights and action are as deft and sharp as a blade.

Why should I read this book?

The King’s Bastard is a tense book of political and—better yet—royal intrigue. It’s a game of Duelling Kingdoms played out on a real-life board, with people, loyalties and crowns at stake. The story of a king’s sons and daughter striking out on their own in whatever ways they must, the first in the trilogy introduces three amazingly addictive, likeable characters who carry the story forward effortlessly. It is a story of magic and illegal magic, friendship and betrayal, and the dangerous game of power. Full of misguided hearts, fiercely loyal friends and simply seeing things through someone else’s eyes, The King’s Bastard is a book that at once gently raises philosophical issues of perspective, whilst telling a story of a family struggling to tread water. 

4/5