Action & Adventure
![Rory Power - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B07K2H8Z74.jpg)
In an Orchard Grown from Ash: A Novel (The Wind-up Garden series)
Siblings torn apart by betrayal grapple with their broken bonds-and fight to regain their power-in this stunning conclusion to a mythic epic fantasy duology from the New York Times bestselling author of Wilder Girls.
The Argyros siblings have lost everything. With their father dead and their family home captured, they're no longer the rulers of their fractured kingdom-and no longer bound to each other.
In the frozen north, Rhea struggles to wield her newly inherited command over death and to find her place in an increasingly distrustful rebel group. Chrysanthi travels to a distant, war-torn land in search of her elusive brother Nitsos, certain that he is there on a dangerous mission to restore the family to its former glory, this time with himself at its head. And Lexos, now stripped of all his power and a political prisoner of the Domina family, is left to rot in a hauntingly desolate palace with nothing but thoughts of revenge.
Alone and farther apart than they've ever been, the siblings must reckon with the pain of their past and find a new path forward-or risk their own destruction.
In an Orchard Grown from Ash is the dramatic finale of a darkly beautiful, atmospheric saga that explores the cost of power and the weight of legacy.
The Argyros siblings have lost everything. With their father dead and their family home captured, they're no longer the rulers of their fractured kingdom-and no longer bound to each other.
In the frozen north, Rhea struggles to wield her newly inherited command over death and to find her place in an increasingly distrustful rebel group. Chrysanthi travels to a distant, war-torn land in search of her elusive brother Nitsos, certain that he is there on a dangerous mission to restore the family to its former glory, this time with himself at its head. And Lexos, now stripped of all his power and a political prisoner of the Domina family, is left to rot in a hauntingly desolate palace with nothing but thoughts of revenge.
Alone and farther apart than they've ever been, the siblings must reckon with the pain of their past and find a new path forward-or risk their own destruction.
In an Orchard Grown from Ash is the dramatic finale of a darkly beautiful, atmospheric saga that explores the cost of power and the weight of legacy.
Editorial Reviews
"The duology's conclusion . . . is a raw, emotional journey of a family created and broken by the consequences of their actions."-Library Journal (starred review)
"Power's blood-soaked and tragic conclusion to the Wind-Up Garden duology (after In a Garden Burning Gold) follows the four royal Argyros siblings-Rhea, Lexos, Nitsos, and Chrysanthi-in the wake of personal and political loss. . . . The author probes even deeper into her series' exploration of power and corruption, but adds a hopeful note amid all the tragedy and destruction that makes the bloodshed feel worthwhile. Series fans will find this a satisfying conclusion."-Publishers Weekly
"Power's blood-soaked and tragic conclusion to the Wind-Up Garden duology (after In a Garden Burning Gold) follows the four royal Argyros siblings-Rhea, Lexos, Nitsos, and Chrysanthi-in the wake of personal and political loss. . . . The author probes even deeper into her series' exploration of power and corruption, but adds a hopeful note amid all the tragedy and destruction that makes the bloodshed feel worthwhile. Series fans will find this a satisfying conclusion."-Publishers Weekly
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter One
Alexandros
The guards were discussing his overcoat. They had been since Legerma, where Lexos had been passed into their care, and they were not being quiet about it.
It was, according to them, quite ugly and in need of mending, along with a good wash so that it might stop stinking up the carriage. One of the guards had even tugged on the hem a few minutes ago, as if expecting a seam to give and the whole thing to come apart in his hand.
Lexos had said nothing then, as he did now, sighing and settling more deeply into the corner of the carriage before shutting his eyes. He knew he looked quite Thyzak in his dour black coat and that its sleeves did nothing to hide the beautiful silver bracelets that had been bent around his wrists-ornamental chains to mark his status as a captive of Tarro Domina. But he was warm, and he could tell, from the guards' occasional shivers, that they were not. They were dressed for a standard spring; the weather they found themselves in these days was anything but standard. Snow was still falling, even as the season began to tip toward its end. It melted quickly, to be sure, but it left the ground unsteady and the air heavy with mist that took too long to burn off.
It was a shame. Trefazio was meant to be beautiful this time of year. Rhea had told him once that it was her favorite place to make a marriage, although it had been some time since she had married anyone outside of Thyzakos, since their father's efforts had turned toward securing the support of his own stewards.
It didn't do, lately, to think of his sister, but he couldn't help it. Every night on his trip across the countryside he fell asleep remembering the look on her face that day at Stratathoma, in the silence after he'd finished reciting the prayer meant to end her life. Her shock, that he had tried. His, that it hadn't worked. Wherever Rhea was now-and he was very sure that she was still alive, sure to his bones-it was with the matagios on her tongue, a little black spot marking her as their father's eldest child and successor. Had she made any peace with it, he wondered. She had never wanted that power. Especially not at the end.
But power or no, she was free. He hoped she was pleased with that, because he could not be pleased for her, not when he was stuck in this carriage on the latest leg of his tour of the countryside. Every few days they would stop, and Lexos would find himself in some city or town he'd never heard of before and be given hardly a minute to catch his breath before being paraded down the street: the Argyros prince, federation traitor, and fugitive, captured once more. He'd asked one of the guards if this was a popular Trefzan hobby-if there were other parades on the off days, perhaps for anyone who had worn a non-Domina shade of green-but apparently this was a custom Falka had invented just for him. Lexos couldn't decide if that was flattering or not.
At least Tarro had gone back to Vuomorra. The first few cities had been the worst, when Lexos and his guards had been accompanied by Tarro and Falka both, the two of them riding at the head of their dubious little procession, waving to the people and basking in the wrath Lexos could not keep from clouding his expression, much as he tried to seem unaffected.
He'd gotten better at that part. The guards had to work harder to get a rise out of him and even sometimes switched from Trefza to poorly accented Thyzaki, as if the problem was simply that Lexos couldn't understand them. Never mind that he spoke Trefza very well, and never mind that of everything that had gone catastrophically wrong in his life over the past season, being dressed unfashionably was the most palatable.
The least was that after years of serving his father and of keeping the Argyros family safe and well, the four siblings were scattered. Chrysanthi was probably following her older sister, or charming her way into some secluded rich household in the countryside if she knew what was good for her, and Nitsos . . . well. Lexos couldn't begin to imagine what his younger brother might be busy with. Nitsos had stepped into the garden as a man in control, and meanwhile Lexos had still been picturing him as a child sulking at the dinner table. What else had Lexos missed? Who else had Nitsos taken for his own?
"Wake up, Argyros," one of the guards barked from across the carriage, and Lexos jolted upright as an elbow connected with his ribs. Somehow the guards all managed to make Trefza sound harsh, a true feat. "We're almost there."
"There" meant Vuomorra, a return at last to the capital. Three months ago, Lexos had been quite prepared to vomit over the side of the ship a...
Alexandros
The guards were discussing his overcoat. They had been since Legerma, where Lexos had been passed into their care, and they were not being quiet about it.
It was, according to them, quite ugly and in need of mending, along with a good wash so that it might stop stinking up the carriage. One of the guards had even tugged on the hem a few minutes ago, as if expecting a seam to give and the whole thing to come apart in his hand.
Lexos had said nothing then, as he did now, sighing and settling more deeply into the corner of the carriage before shutting his eyes. He knew he looked quite Thyzak in his dour black coat and that its sleeves did nothing to hide the beautiful silver bracelets that had been bent around his wrists-ornamental chains to mark his status as a captive of Tarro Domina. But he was warm, and he could tell, from the guards' occasional shivers, that they were not. They were dressed for a standard spring; the weather they found themselves in these days was anything but standard. Snow was still falling, even as the season began to tip toward its end. It melted quickly, to be sure, but it left the ground unsteady and the air heavy with mist that took too long to burn off.
It was a shame. Trefazio was meant to be beautiful this time of year. Rhea had told him once that it was her favorite place to make a marriage, although it had been some time since she had married anyone outside of Thyzakos, since their father's efforts had turned toward securing the support of his own stewards.
It didn't do, lately, to think of his sister, but he couldn't help it. Every night on his trip across the countryside he fell asleep remembering the look on her face that day at Stratathoma, in the silence after he'd finished reciting the prayer meant to end her life. Her shock, that he had tried. His, that it hadn't worked. Wherever Rhea was now-and he was very sure that she was still alive, sure to his bones-it was with the matagios on her tongue, a little black spot marking her as their father's eldest child and successor. Had she made any peace with it, he wondered. She had never wanted that power. Especially not at the end.
But power or no, she was free. He hoped she was pleased with that, because he could not be pleased for her, not when he was stuck in this carriage on the latest leg of his tour of the countryside. Every few days they would stop, and Lexos would find himself in some city or town he'd never heard of before and be given hardly a minute to catch his breath before being paraded down the street: the Argyros prince, federation traitor, and fugitive, captured once more. He'd asked one of the guards if this was a popular Trefzan hobby-if there were other parades on the off days, perhaps for anyone who had worn a non-Domina shade of green-but apparently this was a custom Falka had invented just for him. Lexos couldn't decide if that was flattering or not.
At least Tarro had gone back to Vuomorra. The first few cities had been the worst, when Lexos and his guards had been accompanied by Tarro and Falka both, the two of them riding at the head of their dubious little procession, waving to the people and basking in the wrath Lexos could not keep from clouding his expression, much as he tried to seem unaffected.
He'd gotten better at that part. The guards had to work harder to get a rise out of him and even sometimes switched from Trefza to poorly accented Thyzaki, as if the problem was simply that Lexos couldn't understand them. Never mind that he spoke Trefza very well, and never mind that of everything that had gone catastrophically wrong in his life over the past season, being dressed unfashionably was the most palatable.
The least was that after years of serving his father and of keeping the Argyros family safe and well, the four siblings were scattered. Chrysanthi was probably following her older sister, or charming her way into some secluded rich household in the countryside if she knew what was good for her, and Nitsos . . . well. Lexos couldn't begin to imagine what his younger brother might be busy with. Nitsos had stepped into the garden as a man in control, and meanwhile Lexos had still been picturing him as a child sulking at the dinner table. What else had Lexos missed? Who else had Nitsos taken for his own?
"Wake up, Argyros," one of the guards barked from across the carriage, and Lexos jolted upright as an elbow connected with his ribs. Somehow the guards all managed to make Trefza sound harsh, a true feat. "We're almost there."
"There" meant Vuomorra, a return at last to the capital. Three months ago, Lexos had been quite prepared to vomit over the side of the ship a...
