Magic and sacrifice will collide as lovers and gods, enemies and allies vie for the fate of the world in this heart-pounding sequel to THE ISLES OF THE GODS, which Stephanie Garber called "deliciously diabolical and full of heart." When Selly and Leander began their treacherous voyage to the Isles of the Gods, the captain’s daughter and the playboy prince were strangers. But amid talk of war and a deadly attack on their ship, the unthinkable happened. They fell in love. Leander’s ritual at the island temple was meant to prevent a war between the gods. Instead, it nearly cost him his life, and drew the goddess Barrica back from exile. Now, as her Messenger, Leander is imbued with her deadly magic, and only Selly’s presence can stop it from consuming him. But Barrica wasn’t the only immortal roused from sleep. The God of Risk, Macean, was awakened by an enemy all thought dead, and across the sea he’s calling for war. The fight to save their world will take Selly and Leander from the gilded ballroom of the royal palace to the hallowed halls of an ancient library. Battle lines will be drawn, and bonds will break. With the wrath of gods and the machinations of power-hungry rulers straining their loyalties, can their love withstand the trials that await them? "An absorbing sequel that satisfyingly ties up loose ends." — Kirkus Reviews Amie Kaufman is the New York Times bestselling co-author of the Illuminae Files and the Aurora Cycle, with Jay Kristoff, and the Starbound, Unearthed, and Other Side of the Sky series with Meagan Spooner. Raised in Australia and occasionally Ireland, Amie has degrees in history, literature, law and conflict resolution, and is currently undertaking a PhD in Creative Writing. She lives in Melbourne with her husband, daughter and rescue dog, and an extremely large personal library.You can learn more about Amie at amiekaufman.com, on social, or via her podcast. Selly The Docks Kirkpool, Alinor Everything in Kirkpool that can float, from a battleship to a bathtub, is coming to greet us. Steamships and schooners, merchants and fishing boats, they’re all jostling for space in crowded harbor waters made choppy by their maneuvering. The decks are thick with bodies, and everyone’s cheering, flying sapphire-blue Alinorish flags, waving as the Emma makes her way in toward the golden city on the hill. Leander stands silently at my side, gazing out across the harbor with a calm I’m desperate to break. There’s no easy laugh, no wink to put me at ease, no joke about how this kind of welcoming committee is just another day in his charmed life, full of all the usual admirers. When I scan his eyes, I can read nothing in them. Before he became a vessel for the power of his goddess, his gaze was the warm brown mahogany of a ship’s timbers. Now it’s the same emerald green as our magician’s marks. I know he’s in there, though. I know. I grip the wheel tighter and exchange a glance with Keegan as we enter the thickest part of the cheering fleet, the boats around us sitting low in the water, every one of them loaded to the point of instability. Our scholar is taking it all in solemnly. The crowd is shouting and singing, greeting us as joyfully as if we’ve won a war for them. And I suppose we have. For all of them, this moment is more than victory. And then I hear the word in their cries. Messenger! Somehow they know what Leander is—just as they knew he was coming. “Seven hells, Keegan, do you . . . ?” “I hear it,” he murmurs. “But how word has traveled ahead of us, I don’t know.” The cries around us are of pure joy. Alinor has a Messenger, and Mellacea will be forced to cower before us. This is absolute triumph. They don’t understand that we paid for this power with their prince. Leander shifts his weight toward me, and lifts one hand to lay it over mine where I grip the wheel. A shiver of magic goes through me, like the static before a storm, my body prickling. It happens every time he touches me, this current of raw power. He’s barely left my side since we left the Isle of the Mother—and Laskia’s broken body, and Jude’s broken spirit—behind. When I sleep, Leander sits quietly with me, and when I come up on deck, he follows, never out of reach. I can tell where he is at any given moment without turning my head, feel the press of his mind against mine as clearly as if it were his fingers weaving through mine to squeeze. “We shouldn’t talk to anybody until we’ve seen to Queen Augusta,” Keegan says, walking back along the deck toward us. “I’m not planning on giving interviews,” I reply. Somehow we’d both thought we would just quietly sail back into Kirkpool, find a place to tie up, and then figure out a way into the palace. This is . . . the opposite of that. He speaks gently. “We need to tell her everything, Selly. These people must not know the decoy fleet is gone, or they wouldn’t be celebrating like this.” “Oh, goddess,” I breathe, and for a moment, as if in response t