More filters. Sort order. Jan 25, Hannah rated it it was amazing Shelves: release , what-i-ve-read-in , work , young-adult. If you need me, I'll be sobbing uncontrollably all weekend as I think about this amazing book and how it was even better than Sweet Black Waves and that I am just a ball of emotions that will never be fully able to articulate how much I adore this series with my whole heart but also I AM RUINED.
View 1 comment. Apr 27, Samm Sassenach the Book Wizard rated it it was amazing Shelves: , most-anticipated , best-of I received an ARC through my job at a library. Quick review: if authors could stop making me feel emotions of intense love that I reserve for my dogs and my dogs only, that's be great. Context, I like dogs more than humans. If you liked Sweet Black Waves, I'd honestly be floored if you didn't like this. Why did I read this like 3 months before publication?! Basically everyone but Marc and Branwen can go screw their selfish selves!
This whole romance soap opera Pentagon is giving me feels and migraines! Also, Kristina Perez needs to cool it with the endings created specifically to hurt people! I literally skipped out on an end of the event party so I could finish this damn thing. It hurt my soul, I hate the author and I need book 3 now please. Apr 14, Eleanor bookishcourtier marked it as to-read Shelves: anticipated.
I am so ready to be lost in a magical Celtic world again and only this release date can stop me. Dec 26, Teresa rated it it was amazing. And now I am silently crying because I need to know what happens to my beloved Branwen!! This novel picks right up where the previous one ends; Branwen, Tristen and Essy have landed and Essy is less than thrilled to meet her future husband.
Tristan is heartbroken that he would do what he did to Branwen and Branwen is livid at both of them although if we are being honest it is kinda her fault. Upon arriving in court, Branwen learns that her new full time job will be keep Essy and Tristan apart from each other her away from her to quell the rumors that begin to swirl. Branwen struggles to keep her magic hidden as well and pretty soon she realizes that if she is going to keep her home country safe maybe she needs to learn the darker side of her magic Kristina Perez has killed it Sep 14, Georgina rated it it was amazing Shelves: young-adult.
A deepening of the story that Perez so ably began in Sweet Black Waves. The character of Branwen continues to be compelling despite or because of? The introduction of a sympathetic and admirable King Marc, the interesting mercurial Ruan, and the formidable queen mother makes this book a pleasure to read. The story kept me on the edge of my seat and I blew through it in just a few days! So curious about what will happen in the third book.
Jul 04, Breanna marked it as to-read. I just read through all of the reviews for this and now I'm super nervous Rachel I am considering saving this one until 3 is out, because I think it might kill me. Jul 04, PM. Breanna Rachel wrote: "I am considering saving this one until 3 is out, because I think it might kill me. The first b Rachel wrote: "I am considering saving this one until 3 is out, because I think it might kill me. Jun 10, Erin Arkin rated it it was amazing Shelves: read-in I'm going to need book 3 real soon.
Review to come. View 2 comments. Jun 02, Lindsay rated it really liked it Shelves: arcs , brilliant , strong-characters. Usually the second book in a trilogy is terrible compared to the first. I was surprised because this wasn't the case. It picked up right where Sweet Black Waves left off, with Branwen, Tristan, and Essy arriving in enemy territory where Essy will marry a king she doesn't know, love, or want to marry. Branwen transforms into Essy and Tristan's guardians since she dedicates all her time to keeping them away from each other before King Usually the second book in a trilogy is terrible compared to the first.
Branwen transforms into Essy and Tristan's guardians since she dedicates all her time to keeping them away from each other before King Marc or anyone else catches whim that something is up between the two secret lovers. Not everyone at court is keen to welcome Branwen and Essy and with more obstacles presented, Branwen must make more sacrifices to ensure peace between their two nations. I liked the romance between Branwen and Ruan, though it was rash and had no stability.
I would like to see it grow in the third book, but then again, Branwen is an extremely strong character and I would also like to see her remain independent and dedicated to the Land and the Old Ones. Ruan wasn't the perfect beau, but I liked him much more than Tristan who was broody, whiny, and frustrating.
Eseult was more enjoyable this time around. She wasn't as bratty and immature so I have a tad more respect for her. Just a small degree. She and Tristan continuously made stupid decisions that very easily could have comprised their nations and poor Branwen had to fix the mess and scold them like a parent. There was one turning point towards the end where I finally grew aggravated with Essy's self-absorption and Tristan quickly followed that I honestly wanted Branwen to kill them to finally be rid of their infinite web of headaches. That didn't happen unfortunately, but I rejoiced when Branwen endured a revelation and came to her senses by saying "screw you" to Essy, Tristan, Ruan, and King Marc at different intervals.
That was a major pivotal point for her character since she refused to put others before herself anymore. She grew tired of cleaning up the messes from selfish, arrogant, and stupid individuals so she detached herself from everyone and focused on herself. That cliffhanger tore me apart and now I have to wait another year to find out what happens next.
Jun 16, Lissa Hawley rated it it was amazing Shelves: future-releases. Wild and savage are definitely appropriate adjectives for this story book 2, I am already miserable for 3. Branwen, the MC tries so hard to cope with her errors from the first book and to do what's right, though she stumbles and full out falls in that endeavor frequently. I can't think of much more to say without spoilers, but I really enjoyed the characters, includ I have been dying to read this book since I first read an ARC of Sweet Black Waves over a year ago, and it did not disappoint.
I can't think of much more to say without spoilers, but I really enjoyed the characters, including some with personalities I wouldn't normally find appealing.
Highly recommended. May 21, Morrighan Rose rated it it was amazing Shelves: arc. The entire story was beautifully written; the world a lush, fantastical landscape reminiscent of ancient Ireland, complete with a castle on the cliffs and the sounds of the ocean crashing below. I was equally invested in the characters— Branwen, a powerful wielder of the ancient magic of the old ones was a strong, fierce femme.
Her loyalty to those she loved was awe-inspiring and I found myself falling in love with her strength with each passing page. Iveriu and Kernyv have been warring for centuries; loving a man that hails from her enemy country is forbidden and could label her as a traitor to the land that she loves. As Branwen and Tristan fall in love, she must make the hardest decision of her life; to betray the family that raised her and the land that she loves for a man that makes her heart sing? Unfortunately, she must base all of her choices around the happiness of her cousin, Eseult. I despised her. An alliance in place between the countries ensures Tristan and Branwen can be together.
Eseult is broken by the fact that she will marry her enemy and be a prisoner in his land, so Branwen brews a potion that is to be consumed on her wedding night. It will ease her heart and help her to fall in love with the enemy king. All seems well, until the last freaking 20 pages of the book. On the ship to Kernyv, Eseult and Tristan become friends. He is helping Branwen keep an eye on her after she attempted suicide. Eseult finds the freaking love potion, and her and Tristan share it. As Branwen walks into the cabin, she finds Tristan and Eseult having sex.
I was devastated. The strength of her power and the seduction to release it terrifies her. The sequel picks up right where the first one left off; Branwen is ready to set foot on the shore of her enemies. Completely alone. The vow to protect Princess Eseult and her homeland still requires her to be the lady in waiting, but that is all she will be. No longer a friend to her selfish cousin, she feels a freedom that she never has before. Kernyv is nothing like she has imagined it to be. It is a lot like her home, and the Court of King Marc reminds her of the castle she grew up in. This is the story of a powerful magic wielder, free from past burdens, forging a new path in a foreign land.
She is able to find many allies among the court, one being the Queen Mother. I loved her character, and her open minded ability to accept Branwen as she is. So much this quote. I feel like it should be written on billboards everywhere. What an important sentiment to speak about in a YA novel. There is another quote which definitely hits home; both are from the Queen Mother and parallel to our own society here in America.
Yet men had made these compromises, bartered with the bodies of women without consulting them. The political intrigue thickens, and war could come from an enemy they never thought about before. The court is full of enemies, and she must root out the ones that would harm the alliance. Eseult is still a selfish brat— no shocker there. I enjoyed seeing her less, but the moments we did have to read about her, she was twice as bad as the first book. She just pisses me off and I want to poke her in the eye over and over again.
The world is rich in ancient lore and mythology, the political intrigue is thick, and the characters are so well written. Jun 27, Michelle Guidry rated it it was amazing Shelves: arcs , fantasy-romance , long-series , ya-fantasy , these-were-so-good. After reading: "Are you okay? I have been waiting on this book for what seems like forever only a year, but I love dramatics.
You know how the second book is usually not as good? Not this one. It was even better. The care she takes in crafting the world is so evident. The story picks up right where it left off, with Branwen dealing with the aftermath of Essy and Tristians' relationship while navig After reading: "Are you okay?
The story picks up right where it left off, with Branwen dealing with the aftermath of Essy and Tristians' relationship while navigating a new kingdom. I find myself so frustrated with these characters, but I love them for their flaws. I never thought I'd be invested in a love triangle or two but I am here for one of these specifically.
I dunno, y'all, I just really, really, really love these books. I'll just be over here crying and thinking about this book for the next year. Apr 13, Maureen rated it it was amazing. Oh no! How will I wait until book 3 comes out? This novel begins right where the last left off. Due to the circumstances aboard the ship, Essy claims Tristan as her Champion and Branny is required to serve Essy as well. A new family joins in. They are Ruan, his mother, sister, and sweet younger brother. There are any number of such establishments only blocks away in Mayfair.
We, however, value our privacy. Before she could think of some way to probe further, he seized the initiative. How insistent were they? Remembered aggravation flared in her eyes. They made themselves - or rather the agent - into a definite pest. When she hesitated, he offered, "Stolemore was the agent for the sale of Number I'm on my way to speak with him. Was it he who was obnoxious, or? She grimaced. Indeed, I suspect it was the party he was acting for - no agent could remain in business if he habitually behaved in such a manner, and at times Stolemore seemed embarrassed.
She didn't want to tell him, was wishing she'd never mentioned them; that was clear in her eyes, in the way her lips set. Unperturbed, he simply waited; his gaze locked with hers, he let the silence stretch, his stance unthreatening, but immovable. As many had before, she read his message arright. Somewhat waspishly replied, "There have been two attempts to break into our house. He inclined his head; her logic, as far as it went, was sound, yet it was plain she hadn't told him all.
He debated whether to press her, to ask outright if the burglaries were the sum total of the reasons why she'd come barreling out to do battle with him, deliberately disregarding the social niceties. She cast a quick glance toward her uncle's gate. Questioning her could wait; at this juncture, Stolemore might be more forthcoming. When she glanced back at him, he smiled. When she blinked at him, he went on, "Given we're to be neighbors of sorts, I think it would be acceptable for you to tell me your name.
She eyed him, not warily but assessingly. Then she inclined her head, held out her hand. His smile broadening, he grasped her fingers briefly, was visited by an urge to hold on to them for longer. She wasn't married after all. And your uncle is?
‘American Idol’ Recap: Tristan McIintosh Eliminated, La’Porsha, MacKenzie, Trent | TVLine
His smile remained, all reassurance. Is it as peaceful a neighborhood as it seems at first glance? Her narrowing eyes told him she hadn't been deceived; she answered only his second question. Until recently. Leonora held his disturbingly sharp gaze and added, as repressively as she could, "One hopes it will remain so.
She turned, only then realized her acquiesence was a tacit acknowledgement that she'd come racing out purely to meet him. She glanced up, caught his gaze - knew he'd seen the action for the admission it was. Bad enough. The glint she glimpsed in his hazel eyes, a flash that made her senses seize, her breath catch, was infinitely more disturbing. But then his lashes veiled his eyes and he smiled, as charmingly as before. She felt increasingly sure the expression was a mask. His hand closed; his sharp, too-farseeing eyes trapped her gaze.
Pray convey my greetings to your uncle; I will call to pay my respects shortly. She inclined her head, consciously clinging to graciousness while she longed to pull her fingers free. It was an effort to keep them from fluttering in his; his touch, cool, firm, a fraction too strong, affected her equilibrium in a most peculiar way. She turned, went through the gate, then swung it shut.
Her eyes touched his briefly before she faced the house. Walking up the path, she tried to force her lungs to work, but could feel his gaze still on her. Then she heard the scrape of boots as he turned, the sound of firm footsteps as he headed down the pavement. She finally breathed in, then exhaled in relief. What was it about Trentham that so set her on edge?
The feel of his hard fingers and faintly calloused palm about her hand lingered, a sensual memory imprinted on her mind.
Recollection niggled, but as before proved elusive. She'd never met him before, of that she was sure, yet something about him was faintly familiar. Inwardly shaking her head, she climbed the porch steps, and determinedly forced her mind to the duties she'd left waiting.
Tristan strolled down Motcomb Street toward the huddle of shops midway along that housed the office of Earnest Stolemore, House and Land Agent. His discussion with Leonora Carling had sharpened his senses, stirring instincts that, until recently, had been a critical element in his daily life. Until recently his life had depended on those instincts, in reading their messages accurately, and reacting correctly.
He wasn't sure what he made of Miss Carling - Leonora as he thought of her, only reasonable given he'd been silently watching her for three weeks. She'd been physically more attractive than he'd deduced from afar, her hair a rich mahogany in which veins of garnet glowed, those unusual blue eyes large and almond-shaped beneath finely drawn dark brows. Her nose was straight, her face finely boned, cheekbones high, her skin pale and flawless. But it was her lips that set the tone of her appearance; full, generously curved, a dusky rose, they tempted a man to take, to taste. His instantaneous reaction, and hers, had not escaped him.
Her response, however, intrigued him; it was almost as if she hadn't recognized that flash of sensual heat for what it was. Which raised certain fascinating questions he might well be tempted to pursue, later. At present, however, it was the pragmatic facts she'd revealed that exercised his mind. Her fears about the attempted burglaries might be simply a figment of an overactive feminine imagination aroused by what he assumed had been Stolemore's intimidatory tactics in trying to gain the sale of the house. In his previous occupation, reading people, assessing them, had been crucial; he'd long ago mastered the knack.
Leonora Carling was, he would swear, a strong-willed, practical female with a healthy vein of commonsense. Definitely not the sort to start at shadows, let alone imagine burglaries. If her supposition was correct and the burglaries were connected with Stolemore's client's wish to buy her uncle's house His eyes narrowed.
The full picture of why she'd come out to beard him formed in his mind. He didn't, definitely didn't, approve. Face set, he strolled on. To the green painted frontage of Stolemore's enterprise. Tristan's lips curved; no one viewing the gesture would have labelled it a smile. He caught sight of his reflection in the glass of the door as he reached for the handle, as he turned it, substituted a more comforting face. Stolemore, no doubt, would satisfy his curiosity. Tristan entered. The rotund figure of Stolemore was not behind his desk.
The small office was empty. A doorway opposite the front door was masked by a curtain; it led into the tiny house of which the office was the front room. Shutting the door, Tristan waited, but there was no sound of shuffling feet, of the lumbering gait of the heavily-built agent. Again he waited. A minute ticked by and still there was no sound.
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He had an appointment, one Stolemore would not have missed. He had the bank draft for the final payment for the house in his pocket; the way the sale had been arranged, Stolemore's commission came from this last payment. Hands in his greatcoat pockets, Tristan stood perfectly still, his back to the door, his gaze fixed on the thin curtain before him. He drew in his attention, focused it, then walked forward, slowly, absolutely silently, to the curtain. Reaching up, he abruptly drew the folds aside, simultaneously stepping to the side of the doorway. A narrow, dimly lit corridor led on.
He entered, keeping his shoulders angled, his back toward the wall. A few steps along he came to a stairway so narrow he wondered how Stolemore got up it; he debated but, hearing no sound from upstairs, sensing no presence, he continued along the corridor. A figure lay slumped on the flags on the other side of the ricketty table that took up most of the space. There was no one else in the house; Tristan was certain enough to dispense with caution.
From the look of the bruises on Stolemore's face, he'd been attacked some hours ago. One chair had tipped over. Tristan righted it as he edged around the table, then went down on one knee by the agent's side. The briefest examination confirmed Stolemore was alive, but unconscious. It appeared he'd been staggering to reach the pump handle set in the bench at the end of the small kitchen.
Rising, Tristan found a bowl, placed it under the spout and wielded the handle. A large handkerchief was protruding from the nattily-dressed agent's coat pocket; Tristan took it and used it to bathe Stolemore's face. Tension stabbed through the large frame. Panic flared in Stolemore's eyes, then he focused, and recognized Tristan. Tristan grabbed his arm and hauled him up. Stolemore pointed to a cupboard. Tristan opened it, found the bottle and a glass, and poured a generous amount.
He pushed the glass to Stolemore, recorked the bottle and placed it on the table before the agent. Slipping his hands into his greatcoat pockets, he leaned back against the narrow counter. Gave Stolemore a minute to regain his wits. Stolemore squinted up at him through one half-closed eye.
The other remained completely closed.
Prince of Dreams: A Tale of Tristan and Esyllte
He took another sip of brandy, dropped his gaze to the glass, then murmured, "Fell down the stairs. Stolemore glanced up at him fleetingly, then lowered his gaze to the glass and kept it there. At the note in his voice, one of menace that chilled the spine, Stolemore looked up, lips parting. His eye now wide, he rushed into speech. And it don't affect you gentlemen, not at all. I swear. Tristan read what he could from the agent's face, difficult given the swelling and bruising. But there was no point, given Stolemore's present condition, in going further down that road.
He would simply lose consciousness again. Reaching into his pocket, Tristan withdrew the banker's draft. Stolemore grunted. A small part of his mind tracked the lumbering agent as he moved through the house, identified the location of his "safe place" as under the third stair.
For the most part, however, he stayed leaning against the counter, quietly adding two and two. When Stolemore limped back, a title deed tied with ribbon in one hand, Tristan straightened. He held out a commanding hand; Stolemore gave him the deed. Unraveling the ribbon, he unrolled the deed, swiftly checked it, then rerolled it and slipped it into his pocket. Tristan met his eyes. Raised the draft, held between two fingers. The agent didn't need to answer; the truth was there in his bloated face as he followed the carefully spaced words.
Only when he had to decide how to reply did he stop to think. He blinked, painfully, then met Tristan's gaze. His own remained dull. Tristan let a half minute slide by, then inclined his head. He flicked his fingers; the bank draft sailed down to the table, sliding toward Stolemore. He put out a large hand and trapped it. Half an hour after returning to the house, Leonora escaped the demands of the household and took refuge in the conservatory.
The glass-walled and -roofed room was her own special place within the large house, her retreat. Her heels clicked on the tiled floor as she walked to the wrought iron table and chairs set in the bow window. Henrietta's claws clicked in soft counterpoint as she followed. Presently heated against the cold outside, the room was filled with rioting plants, with ferns, exotic creepers and strange-smelling herbs.
Combining with the scents, the faint yet pervasive smell of earth and growing things soothed and reassured. Sinking into one of the cushioned chairs, Leonora looked out over the winter garden. She should report meeting Trentham to her uncle and Jeremy; if he called later and mentioned it, it would appear odd if she hadn't. Both Humphrey and Jeremy would expect some description of Trentham, yet assembling a word picture of the man she'd met on the pavement less than an hour ago was not straightforward.
Dark-haired, tall, broad-shouldered, handsome, dressed elegantly and patently of the first stare - the superficial characteristics were simple to define. Less certain was the impression she'd gained of a man outwardly charming and inwardly quite different. That impression had owed more to his features, to the sharpness in his heavy-lidded eyes, not always concealed by his long lashes, the almost grimly determined set of mouth and chin before they'd softened, the harsh lines of his face before they'd eased, adopting a cloak of beguiling charm.
It was an impression underscored by other physical attributes - like the fact he'd not even flinched when she'd run full - tilt into him. She was taller than the average; most men would at least have taken a step back. There were other anomalies, too. His behavior on meeting a lady he'd never set eyes on before, and could not have known anything of, had been too dictatorial, too definite. He'd actually had the temerity to interrogate her, and he'd done it, even knowing she'd noticed, without a blink.
She was accustomed to running the house, indeed, to running all their lives; she'd performed in that role for the past twelve years. She was decisive, confident, assured, in no way intimidated by the male of the species, yet Trentham The remembered sensations their physical contact had evoked, not once but multiple times, rose in her mind; she frowned and buried them. Doubtless some disordered reaction on her part; she hadn't expected to collide with him - it was most likely some strange symptom of shock. Moments passed; she sat staring through the windows, unseeing, then shifted, frowned, and focused her mind on defining where she and her problem now were.
Regardless of Trentham's disconcerting presence, she'd extracted all she'd needed from their meeting. She'd learned the answer to what had been her most pressing question - neither Trentham nor his friends were behind the offers to buy this house. She accepted his word unequivocally; there was that about him that left no room for doubt. Likewise, he and his friends were not responsible for the attempts to break in, nor the more disturbing, infinitely more unnerving attempts to scare her witless.
A rush of thoughts tumbled through her mind; a flurry of unfamiliar feelings flitted in her stomach. Inwardly frowning, she quelled them and rose; Henrietta rose, too, and shook herself. Are my uncle and brother in the library? Head high, she glided into the front hall, then stopped. She eyed the closed door of the morning room.
See a Problem?
She paused. At her age, she hardly needed to be missish over being alone for a short time in the morning room with a gentleman. She could go in, greet Trentham, learn why he'd asked to speak with her, all in private, yet she couldn't think of anything he might have to tell her that would require privacy. Some lions were better left untempted; she had a strong suspicion Trentham was one. With a swish of her skirts, she head for the safety of the library.