NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • A decadently dark gothic fantasy for readers who love “haunting atmospheres, morally tangled characters, and stories where love becomes doom” ( Booklist , starred review), the first in a duology from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of A Study in Drowning and Lady Macbeth This first edition hardcover features designed sprayed edges and full-color illustrated endpapers—while supplies last! “Gorgeously gruesome . . . reads like the gory bones of a forgotten folktale.”—Jacqueline Carey, New York Times bestselling author of the Kushiel’s Legacy series Once there was an island where the dead walked the earth, and seven noble houses ruled by the arcane secrets of necromancy. A conqueror’s blade brought them low, burning their libraries, killing their lords, and extinguishing their eldritch magic. But defiant against the new order stands the House of Teeth and its last living members: beautiful Marozia, the heiress to the House, and her cousin, the uncanny Lady Agnes. Though she has not spoken a word in seven years, Agnes is the true carrier of the House’s legacy. And she has her orders. She must recapture the secrets of death magic and avenge her family’s fallen honor. She must arrange the betrothal of her beloved cousin Marozia to Liuprand, heir to the conqueror’s throne, for access to the forbidden library in his grotesquely grand castle. Revenge burns in Agnes’s heart but so do stranger passions—and it is Liuprand, the golden prince, who speaks to her soul. This passion is as treasonous as it is powerful, poisoning the kingdom’s roots and threatening to tear the already shattered realm in two. For Agnes’s final order is the gravest: She must not fall in love. Book One of The House of Teeth Duology “Symphonically lyrical, unflinchingly dark, and terrifyingly romantic, Innamorata is old-school gothic tapestry spun by the deftest of contemporary hands.” —S.T. Gibson, Sunday Times bestselling author of A Dowry of Blood “ Innamorata is a gorgeously gruesome Gothic romance. With a sepulchral setting and cast of characters that wouldn’t seem out of place in Castle Gormenghast, it reads like the gory bones of a forgotten folktale.” —Jacqueline Carey Ava Reid is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of A Study in Drowning, Lady Macbeth, and other novels. Her books have been published in over fourteen territories. She lives in the New York area. I The body of Adele-Blanche No corpse could be left to lie long enough for maggots, but there were leeches. There must be leeches. As befit a woman of her stature, fourteen leeches stood gathered around the body of Adele-Blanche, two furnished by each of the great houses of the Septinsular Covenant. They wore sepia-colored robes, the shade of teacloths stained with tea. In order to give the leeches room to work, the noble guests stood at a distance, on smooth, elevated pews of marble, which formed an oval around Adele-Blanche’s body. Her body lay on the ground as the mud from the previous night’s rainstorm cosseted and fondled her bare limbs. The mud pooled in the hollow place between the two halves of her rib cage, each half thrusting upward like a crested white bird. Her breasts sagged like empty waterskins, only loose, wrinkled flesh with no fat to engorge them. Her nipples were shriveled chestnuts. It bothered Agnes only a little that her grandmother’s nakedness was on display. The dead were afforded no dignity in Drepane. The leeches stood about with arched backs, their spines compressed like a snake before it strikes, as the Most Esteemed Surgeon tottered up to his dais. He could not ascend without assistance, and it was one of the leeches who offered his hand. The hood of the leech’s robe fell back to reveal his bald, age-speckled head. There, just at the crease where the back of his throat connected to his skull, he had a very large, raised, and jagged birthmark in the shape of a leaping fish. At least, that was what it looked like to Agnes, from her vantage point. She supposed that Marozia, who was standing to her left and a bit forward on the pew, might think it looked like a sickle or a sliver of melon or a half-smiling mouth. At last, the Most Esteemed Surgeon was settled and standing upright. He cleared his throat four times. Agnes didn’t blame him. It was an especially moist morning, with mist oozing between the black tree branches. “This woman is dead,” he intoned. “Expired. Extinct. Forever gone.” When his voice reached Agnes’s ears, it fizzled like water dissolving on a hot pan into steam and nothingness. Her mind generated its own words to fill the space. Adele-Blanche, Mistress of Teeth, ruled her noble house for a very long time. Agnes did not know her grandmother’s exact year of birth, as it was forbidden to record such figures, so her mind supplied a rather poetic estimation. Her eyes had seen at least three-quarters of a century. She outlived her two daughters, Ma