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Here is my theory from book 2: the Blyths suit me best in small doses. Robin and Maud, respectively, were the most difficult parts of their own books for me. They’re just so young, energetic, athletic, upstanding, so shiny, so beautiful, so aggressively… “normal,” for lack of a better word, when I prefer crankiness and weariness and a bit of tarnish on the bronze these days.

Here, their presence in the ensemble was a much better balance. Enough without too much.

And that clears the decks for Jack, deeply scarred, and Alan, deeply insolent, to take center stage. In book 2, they’re stalking around each other and scrapping like alley cats in the background, and that dynamic ratchets up a few notches here, to my endless pleasure.

It’s the best of the trilogy, by a long shot. And/or it just hit every one of my preferences in a perfect way. The kinky power dynamics vs. real world politics. The class differences. The exquisite emotional development. The betrayal that is immediately understood and admired. Crackling tension and careful tenderness.

Complexity galore, KJ Charles style. At least for the romance—the fantasy still lagged a step behind the best KJC plotting. There were some WTF turns, but ultimately I really liked where it went, and Marske wrote to her strengths. For the second book I’ve read recently, it upends the idea of a magic system dependent on bloodlines. I thought the metaphors and parallels of imperialism came together a lot better here than in the first two books—or maybe my expectations, by now, were just more in line with what Marske delivers.

Either way, it was excellent, I would read it straightaway again. Just given my tastes, I had the highest hopes for this book out of the three, but was still surprised and pleased at how well it delivered.

A few stray notes: