Action & Adventure
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In a Garden Burning Gold: A Novel
Twins imbued with incredible magic and near-immortality will do anything to keep their family in power-even if it tears the family apart-in the first book of a mythic epic fantasy duology from the New York Times bestselling author of Wilder Girls.
"Unapologetically vicious, with gorgeous, searing prose and a world that left me reeling."-Heather Walter, author of Malice
ONE OF THE MOST ANTICIPATED BOOKS OF 2022-BookPage
Rhea and Lexos were born into a family unlike any other. Together with their siblings, they control the seasons, the tides, and the stars, and help their father rule their kingdom. Thanks to their magic, the family has ruled for an eternity, and plan to rule for an eternity more.
But Rhea and Lexos are special: They are twins, bonded down to the bone, and for the past hundred years, that bond has protected them as their father becomes an unpredictable tyrant-and his worsening temper threatens the family's grip on power.
Now, with rival nations ready to attack, and a rebel movement within their own borders, Rhea and Lexos must fight to keep the kingdom-and the family-together, even as treachery, deceit, and drama threaten to strand the twins on opposite sides of the battlefield.
In a Garden Burning Gold is a vividly written, atmospheric saga that explores the limits of power and the bonds of family-and how far both can be bent before they break.
"Unapologetically vicious, with gorgeous, searing prose and a world that left me reeling."-Heather Walter, author of Malice
ONE OF THE MOST ANTICIPATED BOOKS OF 2022-BookPage
Rhea and Lexos were born into a family unlike any other. Together with their siblings, they control the seasons, the tides, and the stars, and help their father rule their kingdom. Thanks to their magic, the family has ruled for an eternity, and plan to rule for an eternity more.
But Rhea and Lexos are special: They are twins, bonded down to the bone, and for the past hundred years, that bond has protected them as their father becomes an unpredictable tyrant-and his worsening temper threatens the family's grip on power.
Now, with rival nations ready to attack, and a rebel movement within their own borders, Rhea and Lexos must fight to keep the kingdom-and the family-together, even as treachery, deceit, and drama threaten to strand the twins on opposite sides of the battlefield.
In a Garden Burning Gold is a vividly written, atmospheric saga that explores the limits of power and the bonds of family-and how far both can be bent before they break.
Editorial Reviews
"Distinguished by a stunningly crafted world, a fascinating magic system, and nail-biting political intrigues, In a Garden Burning Gold is a vividly woven tapestry of love, power, and betrayal."-Claire Legrand, New York Times bestselling author of Furyborn
"Unapologetically vicious, with gorgeous, searing prose and a world that left me reeling . . . Rory Power has crafted my favorite kind of story, in which love and betrayal are one and the same."-Heather Walter, author of Malice
"Set against a dazzling Mediterranean backdrop, In a Garden Burning Gold is a strikingly original and thoughtful fantasy."-BookPage
"Unapologetically vicious, with gorgeous, searing prose and a world that left me reeling . . . Rory Power has crafted my favorite kind of story, in which love and betrayal are one and the same."-Heather Walter, author of Malice
"Set against a dazzling Mediterranean backdrop, In a Garden Burning Gold is a strikingly original and thoughtful fantasy."-BookPage
Short Excerpt Teaser
One
Rhea
A week was too long to be a widow. Even after all her marriages, Rhea had never got used to it. The black, the singing, the veils-it was enough to drive anybody mad. At least no one ever expected her to cry.
She leaned forward in her seat as her carriage rattled up the road toward her father's house, Stratathoma, where it was perched on the edge of a sheer black cliff. From here she could only see the thick perimeter wall and above it the peaks of the stone-shingled roof. Somewhere inside, past the courtyards and double doors, were her siblings. Of them all, Alexandros would be most glad to see her, and she him; it was always strange being separated from her twin, no matter how many times they parted. Nitsos, their younger brother, would have barely noticed her absence, tucked away as he was in his workshop from morning until night. And Chrysanthi would be excited to see her, if only for the stories Rhea brought back from her trips.
Little Chrysanthi-although, Rhea reminded herself, they were none of them so little anymore-gathered up the stories Rhea told about her consorts and kept them in a small tin box by the side of her bed. Sometimes, if Rhea listened closely during the night, she could hear Chrysanthi open the box and munch contentedly on a story or two, leaving crumbs strewn across her bedsheets. Well, she wouldn't be disappointed this time. Rhea had a few stored up with just the right flavor. A flavor: a sweet, spicy autumn sort of crispness. Those were Chrysanthi's favorites.
At last the carriage reached the double doors breaching Stratathoma's perimeter wall, their gnarled surface painted a deep blue, the color most closely associated with their family name, Argyros. Rhea's father was quite proud of their name and insisted that his children and his house bear his colors whenever possible. He was the country's Stratagiozi, her father, in charge of all of Thyzakos, and as his children she and her siblings each had their own responsibilities to contend with. Only hers took her away from home, to some bed in some house in some city that fell under her father's watch.
She had dawdled with this last consort. He'd made the inconvenient mistake of falling a bit in love with her, and Rhea had seen the flicker of it in his eyes and found herself somehow unable to slide her knife under his ribs, plagued by a thing she supposed she had to call guilt. It was only when the time was well past for a chill to dust across the high grasses and olive trees that she had managed, over their morning meal, to ask him to turn away from her and hold still. It had not been a clean death, and so not a clean season. It worked much better when she could get right to their hearts, as she would be sure to with her next consort-winter's, to be chosen in a fortnight.
The carriage continued along the cobblestone path through the grounds and toward the outer courtyard, its studded wooden doors swinging back on their own, operated by a network of chains and gears. Nitsos's design obviously. He was the middle child, slotted between the twins and Chrysanthi, and while Alexandros followed Baba like a shadow, Nitsos was left to while away the time in his workshop. Windup animals with steam-beating pulses, clockwork gardens full of fabric flowers. Tinkering with machines and mechanics to make sure everything operated smoothly, in every corner of the world.
Beyond the doors, the drive straightened out and the cobblestones turned to patchwork flagstone. Rhea pressed close to the carriage window to get a first glimpse of the doors into the private inner courtyard. They were too narrow for carriages, and the lintel hung too low to allow a single rider through. When you entered Baba's house, you entered on your own feet, with no weapons in your hands and no ill will in your heart.
A pair of women were waiting, and as Rhea's carriage came to a complete stop they darted forward, one to fetch the luggage strapped to the back of the carriage and the other to open Rhea's door. But Rhea was too eager to get a breath of fresh air after so many hours bouncing around inside a small box. She shouldered the door fully open, the first servant jumping back to avoid its swing, and hopped down, her boots landing lightly on stones still warm from the afternoon sun.
The grass was well tended here, trimmed short, and the roses that trailed across every wall were fully in bloom, as always. Chrysanthi spent a great deal of time out here tending to the landscape, painting everything in careful strokes, making sure every rose was evenly pink.
"Kiria Rhea? Are you ready to go in?"
It was always startling to hear her true name for the first time after a marriage. In the rest of Thyzakos, and across the ...
Rhea
A week was too long to be a widow. Even after all her marriages, Rhea had never got used to it. The black, the singing, the veils-it was enough to drive anybody mad. At least no one ever expected her to cry.
She leaned forward in her seat as her carriage rattled up the road toward her father's house, Stratathoma, where it was perched on the edge of a sheer black cliff. From here she could only see the thick perimeter wall and above it the peaks of the stone-shingled roof. Somewhere inside, past the courtyards and double doors, were her siblings. Of them all, Alexandros would be most glad to see her, and she him; it was always strange being separated from her twin, no matter how many times they parted. Nitsos, their younger brother, would have barely noticed her absence, tucked away as he was in his workshop from morning until night. And Chrysanthi would be excited to see her, if only for the stories Rhea brought back from her trips.
Little Chrysanthi-although, Rhea reminded herself, they were none of them so little anymore-gathered up the stories Rhea told about her consorts and kept them in a small tin box by the side of her bed. Sometimes, if Rhea listened closely during the night, she could hear Chrysanthi open the box and munch contentedly on a story or two, leaving crumbs strewn across her bedsheets. Well, she wouldn't be disappointed this time. Rhea had a few stored up with just the right flavor. A flavor: a sweet, spicy autumn sort of crispness. Those were Chrysanthi's favorites.
At last the carriage reached the double doors breaching Stratathoma's perimeter wall, their gnarled surface painted a deep blue, the color most closely associated with their family name, Argyros. Rhea's father was quite proud of their name and insisted that his children and his house bear his colors whenever possible. He was the country's Stratagiozi, her father, in charge of all of Thyzakos, and as his children she and her siblings each had their own responsibilities to contend with. Only hers took her away from home, to some bed in some house in some city that fell under her father's watch.
She had dawdled with this last consort. He'd made the inconvenient mistake of falling a bit in love with her, and Rhea had seen the flicker of it in his eyes and found herself somehow unable to slide her knife under his ribs, plagued by a thing she supposed she had to call guilt. It was only when the time was well past for a chill to dust across the high grasses and olive trees that she had managed, over their morning meal, to ask him to turn away from her and hold still. It had not been a clean death, and so not a clean season. It worked much better when she could get right to their hearts, as she would be sure to with her next consort-winter's, to be chosen in a fortnight.
The carriage continued along the cobblestone path through the grounds and toward the outer courtyard, its studded wooden doors swinging back on their own, operated by a network of chains and gears. Nitsos's design obviously. He was the middle child, slotted between the twins and Chrysanthi, and while Alexandros followed Baba like a shadow, Nitsos was left to while away the time in his workshop. Windup animals with steam-beating pulses, clockwork gardens full of fabric flowers. Tinkering with machines and mechanics to make sure everything operated smoothly, in every corner of the world.
Beyond the doors, the drive straightened out and the cobblestones turned to patchwork flagstone. Rhea pressed close to the carriage window to get a first glimpse of the doors into the private inner courtyard. They were too narrow for carriages, and the lintel hung too low to allow a single rider through. When you entered Baba's house, you entered on your own feet, with no weapons in your hands and no ill will in your heart.
A pair of women were waiting, and as Rhea's carriage came to a complete stop they darted forward, one to fetch the luggage strapped to the back of the carriage and the other to open Rhea's door. But Rhea was too eager to get a breath of fresh air after so many hours bouncing around inside a small box. She shouldered the door fully open, the first servant jumping back to avoid its swing, and hopped down, her boots landing lightly on stones still warm from the afternoon sun.
The grass was well tended here, trimmed short, and the roses that trailed across every wall were fully in bloom, as always. Chrysanthi spent a great deal of time out here tending to the landscape, painting everything in careful strokes, making sure every rose was evenly pink.
"Kiria Rhea? Are you ready to go in?"
It was always startling to hear her true name for the first time after a marriage. In the rest of Thyzakos, and across the ...
