A book about sorcerers, magic, Great Libraries, grimoires that actually talk and turn into monsters when provoked. Is there a book dragon alive who can resist such a story? I couldn’t.
From the beautiful cover to the intriguing blurb, Sorcery of Thorns caught my attention and held it page one to the last.
The main character, Elisabeth was an absolute menace and I say that in the nicest possible way. She was klutzy and bookish and charming in her own way. Her love of books made me like her a whole lot. I enjoyed her thoughts and the way she saw the world.
Nathaniel Thorn, a.k.a Evil Sorcerer. Ah, the gorgeous mysterious Nathaniel with his extraordinary servant, Silas, two characters who quickly became my favorites. The interactions between Nathaniel and Elisabeth left me in smiles. It was so funny to watch how baffled Nathaniel was by Elisabeth.
The plot-line was remarkable with its original concept and all the many twists that kept me on my toes. I loved how every time things seemed to settle in this book only to blow up worse.
And the grimoires! I loved how they each had their own unique voice with their little quirks. The side characters in this book all added value to the story as a whole. Sorcery of Thorns was my first book by Margaret Rogerson and this story was so good, it turned me into an instant fan.
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Sorcery of Thorns Paperback – June 30 2020
by
Margaret Rogerson
(Author)
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A New York Times bestseller!
“A bewitching gem...I absolutely loved every moment of this story.” —Stephanie Garber, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Caraval series
“If you loved the Hogwarts Library…you’ll be right at home at Summershall.” —Katherine Arden, New York Times bestselling author of The Bear and the Nightingale
From the New York Times bestselling author of An Enchantment of Ravens comes an “enthralling adventure” (Kirkus Reviews, starred review) about an apprentice at a magical library who must battle a powerful sorcerer to save her kingdom.
All sorcerers are evil. Elisabeth has known that as long as she has known anything. Raised as a foundling in one of Austermeer’s Great Libraries, Elisabeth has grown up among the tools of sorcery—magical grimoires that whisper on shelves and rattle beneath iron chains. If provoked, they transform into grotesque monsters of ink and leather.
Then an act of sabotage releases the library’s most dangerous grimoire, and Elisabeth is implicated in the crime. With no one to turn to but her sworn enemy, the sorcerer Nathaniel Thorn, and his mysterious demonic servant, she finds herself entangled in a centuries-old conspiracy. Not only could the Great Libraries go up in flames, but the world along with them.
As her alliance with Nathaniel grows stronger, Elisabeth starts to question everything she’s been taught—about sorcerers, about the libraries she loves, even about herself. For Elisabeth has a power she has never guessed, and a future she could never have imagined.
“A bewitching gem...I absolutely loved every moment of this story.” —Stephanie Garber, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Caraval series
“If you loved the Hogwarts Library…you’ll be right at home at Summershall.” —Katherine Arden, New York Times bestselling author of The Bear and the Nightingale
From the New York Times bestselling author of An Enchantment of Ravens comes an “enthralling adventure” (Kirkus Reviews, starred review) about an apprentice at a magical library who must battle a powerful sorcerer to save her kingdom.
All sorcerers are evil. Elisabeth has known that as long as she has known anything. Raised as a foundling in one of Austermeer’s Great Libraries, Elisabeth has grown up among the tools of sorcery—magical grimoires that whisper on shelves and rattle beneath iron chains. If provoked, they transform into grotesque monsters of ink and leather.
Then an act of sabotage releases the library’s most dangerous grimoire, and Elisabeth is implicated in the crime. With no one to turn to but her sworn enemy, the sorcerer Nathaniel Thorn, and his mysterious demonic servant, she finds herself entangled in a centuries-old conspiracy. Not only could the Great Libraries go up in flames, but the world along with them.
As her alliance with Nathaniel grows stronger, Elisabeth starts to question everything she’s been taught—about sorcerers, about the libraries she loves, even about herself. For Elisabeth has a power she has never guessed, and a future she could never have imagined.
- Print length480 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherMargaret K. McElderry Books
- Publication dateJune 30 2020
- Grade level9 - 12
- Reading age14 years and up
- Dimensions13.97 x 2.79 x 20.96 cm
- ISBN-101481497626
- ISBN-13978-1481497626
- Lexile measureHL820L
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Product description
Review
"If you are looking for magic you will find it inside this book. Sorcery of Thorns is a bewitching gem, full of slow burning romance, loyal friendships, and extraordinary world building. I absolutely loved every moment of this story." ― Stephanie Garber, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Caraval series.
"If you loved the Hogwarts Library, or the Great Library of the Clayr, you'll be right at home at Summershall. Tightly paced, hugely atmospheric, with a touch of wry humor, this book had me from its Gothic beginning right to the perfect end." ― Katherine Arden, author of The Bear and the Nightingale
"Brimming with twisty enchantment, Sorcery of Thorns is Margaret Rogerson at her most playfully addictive. The heir apparent to Diana Wynne Jones, no one can match her dark whimsy or joyous magic. This book is sheer delight." ― Jessica Cluess, author of the Kingdom on Fire trilogy
“Like the grimoires that fill its pages, Sorcery of Thorns lives, breathes, and beckons you closer with each enchanting word. This is classic fantasy at its very best.” ― Julie C. Dao, author of Forest of a Thousand Lanterns
* "An enthralling adventure replete with spellbinding characters, a slow-burning love story, and a world worth staying lost in." ― Kirkus Reviews, starred review
"Rogerson proves herself a worthy successor to Diana Wynne Jones in this moody, atmospheric, and lively classic fantasy...This enchanting story is sure to appeal to teen readers eager for more of the world-building, fierce friendships, and feminist heroines of Robin LaFevers and Naomi Novik." ― School Library Journal
"If you loved the Hogwarts Library, or the Great Library of the Clayr, you'll be right at home at Summershall. Tightly paced, hugely atmospheric, with a touch of wry humor, this book had me from its Gothic beginning right to the perfect end." ― Katherine Arden, author of The Bear and the Nightingale
"Brimming with twisty enchantment, Sorcery of Thorns is Margaret Rogerson at her most playfully addictive. The heir apparent to Diana Wynne Jones, no one can match her dark whimsy or joyous magic. This book is sheer delight." ― Jessica Cluess, author of the Kingdom on Fire trilogy
“Like the grimoires that fill its pages, Sorcery of Thorns lives, breathes, and beckons you closer with each enchanting word. This is classic fantasy at its very best.” ― Julie C. Dao, author of Forest of a Thousand Lanterns
* "An enthralling adventure replete with spellbinding characters, a slow-burning love story, and a world worth staying lost in." ― Kirkus Reviews, starred review
"Rogerson proves herself a worthy successor to Diana Wynne Jones in this moody, atmospheric, and lively classic fantasy...This enchanting story is sure to appeal to teen readers eager for more of the world-building, fierce friendships, and feminist heroines of Robin LaFevers and Naomi Novik." ― School Library Journal
About the Author
Margaret Rogerson is the author of the New York Times bestsellers An Enchantment of Ravens, Sorcery of Thorns, and Vespertine. She has a bachelor’s degree in cultural anthropology from Miami University. When not reading or writing she enjoys sketching, gaming, making pudding, and watching more documentaries than is socially acceptable (according to some). She lives near Cincinnati, Ohio, beside a garden full of hummingbirds and roses. Visit her at MargaretRogerson.com.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One ONE
NIGHT FELL AS death rode into the Great Library of Summershall. It arrived within a carriage. Elisabeth stood in the courtyard and watched the horses thunder wild-eyed through the gates, throwing froth from their mouths. High above, the last of the sunset blazed on the Great Library’s tower windows, as if the rooms inside had been set on fire—but the light retreated swiftly, shrinking upward, drawing long fingers of shadow from the angels and gargoyles who guarded the library’s rain-streaked parapets.
A gilt insignia shone upon the carriage’s side as it rattled to a halt: a crossed quill and key, the symbol of the Collegium. Iron bars transformed the rear of the carriage into a prison cell. Though the night was cool, sweat slicked Elisabeth’s palms.
“Scrivener,” said the woman beside her. “Do you have your salt? Your gloves?”
Elisabeth patted the leather straps that crisscrossed her chest, feeling for the pouches they held, the canister of salt that hung at her hip. “Yes, Director.” All she was missing was a sword. But she wouldn’t earn that until she became a warden, after years of training at the Collegium. Few librarians made it that far. They either gave up, or they died.
“Good.” The Director paused. She was a remote, elegant woman with ice-pale features and hair as red as flame. A scar ran from her left temple all the way to her jaw, puckering her cheek and pulling one corner of her mouth permanently to the side. Like Elisabeth, she wore leather straps over her chest, but she had on a warden’s uniform beneath them instead of an apprentice’s robes. Lamplight glinted off the brass buttons on her dark blue coat and shone from her polished boots. The sword belted at her side was slender and tapered, with garnets glittering on its pommel.
That sword was famous at Summershall. It was named Demonslayer, and the Director had used it to battle a Malefict when she was only nineteen years old. That was where she had gotten the scar, which was rumored to cause her excruciating agony whenever she spoke. Elisabeth doubted the accuracy of those rumors, but it was true that the Director chose her words carefully, and certainly never smiled.
“Remember,” the Director went on at last, “if you hear a voice in your mind once we reach the vault, do not listen to what it says. This is a Class Eight, centuries old, and not to be trifled with. Since its creation, it has driven dozens of people mad. Are you ready?”
Elisabeth swallowed. The knot in her throat prevented her from answering. She could hardly believe the Director was speaking to her, much less that she had summoned her to help transport a delivery to the vault. Ordinarily such a responsibility fell far above the rank of apprentice librarian. Hope ricocheted through her like a bird trapped within a house, taking flight, falling, and taking flight again, exhausting itself for the promise of open skies far away. Terror flickered after it like a shadow.
She’s giving me a chance to prove that I’m worth training as a warden, she thought. If I fail, I will die. Then at least I’ll have a use. They can bury me in the garden to feed the radishes.
Wiping her sweaty palms on the sides of her robes, she nodded.
The Director set off across the courtyard, and Elisabeth followed. Gravel crunched beneath their heels. A foul stench clotted the air as they drew nearer, like waterlogged leather left to rot on the seashore. Elisabeth had grown up in the Great Library, surrounded by the ink-and-parchment smell of magical tomes, but this was far from what she was used to. The stench stung her eyes and stippled her arms with goose bumps. It was even making the horses nervous. They shied in their traces, scattering gravel as they ignored the driver’s attempts to calm them down. In a way she envied them, for at least they didn’t know what had ridden behind them all the way from the capital.
A pair of wardens leaped down from the front of the carriage, their hands planted on the hilts of their swords. Elisabeth forced herself not to shrink back when they glowered at her. Instead she straightened her spine and lifted her chin, endeavoring to match their stony expressions. She might never earn a blade, but at least she could appear brave enough to wield one.
The Director’s key ring rattled, and the carriage’s rear doors swung open with a shuddering groan. At first, in the gloom, the iron-lined cell appeared empty. Then Elisabeth made out an object on the floor: a flat, square, iron coffer, secured with more than a dozen locks. To a layperson, the precautions would have appeared absurd—but not for long. In the twilit silence, a single, reverberating thud issued from within the coffer, powerful enough to shake the carriage and rattle the doors on their hinges. One of the horses screamed.
“Quickly,” the Director said. She took one of the coffer’s handles, and Elisabeth seized the other. They hefted its weight between them and proceeded toward a door with an inscription carved atop it, the arching scroll clasped on either side by weeping angels. OFFICIUM ADUSQUE MORTEM, it read dimly, nearly obscured by shadow. The warden’s motto. Duty unto death.
They entered a long stone corridor burnished by the jumping light of torches. The coffer’s leaden weight already strained Elisabeth’s arm. It did not move again, but its stillness failed to reassure her, for she suspected what it meant: the book within was listening. It was waiting.
Another warden stood guard beside the entrance to the vault. When he saw Elisabeth at the Director’s side, his small eyes gleamed with loathing. This was Warden Finch. He was a grizzled man with short gray hair and a puffy face into which his features seemed to recede, like raisins in a bread pudding. Among the apprentices, he was infamous for the fact that his right hand was larger than the other, bulging with muscle, because he exercised it so often whipping them.
She squeezed the coffer’s handle until her knuckles turned white, instinctively bracing herself for a blow, but Finch could do nothing to her in front of the Director. Muttering beneath his breath, he heaved on a chain. Inch by inch, the portcullis rose, lifting its sharp black teeth above their heads. Elisabeth stepped forward.
And the coffer lurched.
“Steady,” the Director snapped, as both of them careened against the stone wall, barely keeping their balance. Elisabeth’s stomach swooped. Her boot hung over the edge of a spiral stair that twisted vertiginously down into darkness.
The horrible truth dawned on her. The grimoire had wanted them to fall. She imagined the coffer tumbling down the stairs, striking the flagstones at the bottom, bursting open—and it would have been her fault—
The Director’s hand clasped her shoulder. “It’s all right, Scrivener. Nothing’s happened. Grip the rail and keep going.”
With an effort, Elisabeth turned away from Finch’s condemning scowl. Down they went. A subterranean chill wafted up from below, smelling of cold rock and mildew, and of something less natural. The stone itself bled the malice of ancient things that had languished in darkness for centuries—consciousnesses that did not slumber, minds that did not dream. Muffled by thousands of pounds of earth, the silence was such that she heard only her own pulse pounding in her ears.
She had spent her childhood exploring the Great Library’s myriad nooks and crannies, prying into its countless mysteries, but she had never been inside the vault. Its presence had lurked beneath the library her entire life like something unspeakable hiding under the bed.
This is my chance, she reminded herself. She could not be afraid.
They emerged into a chamber that resembled a cathedral’s crypt. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all carved from the same gray stone. The ribbed pillars and vaulted ceilings had been crafted with artistry, even reverence. Statues of angels stood in niches along the walls, candles guttering at their feet. With sorrowful, shadowed eyes, they watched over the rows of iron shelves that formed aisles down the center of the vault. Unlike the bookcases in the upper portions of the library, these were welded in place. Chains secured the locked coffers, which slid between the shelves like drawers.
Elisabeth assured herself that it was her imagination conjuring up whispers from the coffers as they passed. A thick layer of dust coated the chains. Most of the coffers hadn’t been disturbed in decades, and their inhabitants remained fast asleep. Yet the back of her neck still prickled as though she were being watched.
The Director guided her beyond the shelves, toward a cell with a table bolted to the floor at the center. A single oil lamp cast a jaundiced glow across its ink-stained surface. The coffer remained unsettlingly cooperative as they set it down beside four enormous gashes, like giant claw marks, that scarred the table’s wood. Elisabeth’s eyes darted to the gashes again and again. She knew what had made them. What happened when a grimoire got out of control.
Malefict.
“What precaution do we take first?” the Director asked, jolting Elisabeth from her thoughts. The test had begun.
“Salt,” she answered, reaching for the canister at her hip. “Like iron, salt weakens demonic energies.” Her hand trembled slightly as she shook out the crystals, forming a lopsided circle. Shame flushed her cheeks at the sight of its uneven edges. What if she wasn’t ready, after all?
The barest hint of warmth softened the Director’s severe face. “Do you know why I chose to keep you, Elisabeth?”
Elisabeth froze, the breath trapped in her chest. The Director had never addressed her by her given name—only her last name, Scrivener, or sometimes just “apprentice,” depending on how much trouble she was in, which was often a fantastic amount. “No, Director,” she said.
“Hmm. It was storming, I recall. The grimoires were restless that night. They were making so much noise that I barely heard the knock on the front doors.” Elisabeth could easily picture the scene. Rain lashing against the windows, the tomes howling and sobbing and rattling beneath their restraints. “When I found you on the steps, and picked you up and brought you inside, I was certain you would cry. Instead, you looked around and began to laugh. You were not afraid. At that moment I knew I couldn’t send you away to an orphanage. You belonged in the library, as much as any book.”
Elisabeth had been told the story before, but only by her tutor, never the Director herself. Two words echoed through her mind with the vitality of a heartbeat: you belonged. They were words that she had waited sixteen years to hear, and desperately hoped were true.
In breathless silence, she watched the Director reach for her keys and select the largest one, ancient enough to have rusted almost beyond recognition. It was clear that for the Director, the time for sentiment had passed. Elisabeth contented herself with repeating the unspoken vow she had held close for nearly as long as she could remember. One day, she would become a warden, too. She would make the Director proud.
Salt cascaded onto the table as the coffer’s lid creaked open. A stench of rotting leather rolled across the vault, so potent that she almost gagged.
A grimoire lay inside. It was a thick volume with disheveled, yellowing pages sandwiched between slabs of greasy black leather. It would have looked fairly ordinary, if not for the bulbous protrusions that bulged from the cover. They resembled giant warts, or bubbles on the surface of a pool of tar. Each was the size of a large marble, and there were dozens altogether, deforming nearly every inch of the leather’s surface.
The Director pulled on a heavy pair of iron-lined gloves. Elisabeth hastened to follow her example. She bit the inside of her cheek as the Director lifted the book from the coffer and placed it within the circle of salt.
The instant the Director set it down, the protrusions split open. They weren’t warts—they were eyes. Eyes of every color, bloodstained and rolling, the pupils dilating and contracting to pinpricks as the grimoire convulsed in the Director’s hands. Gritting her teeth, she forced it open. Automatically, Elisabeth reached into the circle and clamped down the other side, feeling the leather twitch and heave through her gloves. Furious. Alive.
Those eyes were not sorcerous conjurations. They were real, plucked from human skulls long ago, sacrificed to create a volume powerful enough to contain the spells etched across its pages. According to history, most sacrifices had not been willing.
“The Book of Eyes,” the Director said, perfectly calm. “It contains spells that allow sorcerers to reach into the minds of others, read their thoughts, and even control their actions. Fortunately, only a handful of sorcerers in the entire kingdom have ever been granted permission to read it.”
“Why would they want to?” Elisabeth burst out, before she could stop herself. The answer was obvious. Sorcerers were evil by nature, corrupted by the demonic magic they wielded. If it weren’t for the Reforms, which had made it illegal for sorcerers to bind books with human parts, grimoires like the Book of Eyes wouldn’t be so exceptionally rare. No doubt sorcerers had attempted to replicate it over the years, but the spells couldn’t be written down using ordinary materials. The sorcery’s power would instantly reduce the ink and parchment to ashes.
To her surprise, the Director took her question seriously, though she was no longer looking at Elisabeth. Instead she focused on turning the pages, inspecting them for any damage they might have sustained during the journey. “There may come a time when spells like these are necessary, no matter how foul. We have a great responsibility to our kingdom, Scrivener. If this grimoire were destroyed, its spells would be lost forever. It’s the only one of its kind.”
“Yes, Director.” That, she understood. Wardens both protected grimoires from the world, and protected the world from them.
She braced herself as the Director paused, leaning down to examine a stain on one of the pages. Transferring high-class grimoires came at a risk, since any accidental damage could provoke their transformation into a Malefict. They needed to be inspected carefully before their interment in the vault. Elisabeth felt certain that several of the eyes, peering out from beneath the cover, were aimed directly at her—and that they glittered with cunning.
Somehow, she knew she shouldn’t meet their gaze. Hoping to distract herself, she glanced aside to the pages. Some of the sentences were written in Austermeerish or the Old Tongue. But others were scrawled in Enochian, the language of sorcerers, made up of strange, jagged runes that shimmered on the parchment like smoldering embers. It was a language one could only learn by consorting with demons. Merely looking at the runes made her temples throb.
“Apprentice…”
The whisper slithered against her mind, as alien and unexpected as the cold, slimy touch of a fish beneath the water of a pond. Elisabeth jerked and looked up. If the Director heard the voice, too, she showed no sign.
“Apprentice, I see you.…”
Elisabeth’s breath caught. She did as the Director had instructed and tried to ignore the voice, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything else with so many eyes watching her, agleam with sinister intelligence.
“Look at me… look…”
Slowly but surely, as if drawn by an invisible force, Elisabeth’s gaze began to travel downward.
“There,” said the Director. Her voice sounded dim and distorted, like she was speaking from underwater. “We are finished. Scrivener?”
When Elisabeth didn’t answer, the Director slammed the grimoire shut, cutting its voice off midwhisper. Elisabeth’s senses rushed back. She sucked in a breath, her face burning with humiliation. The eyes bulged furiously, darting between her and the Director.
“Well done,” the Director said. “You held out much longer than I expected.”
“It almost had me,” Elisabeth whispered. How could the Director congratulate her? A clammy sweat clung to her skin, and in the vault’s chill, she began to shiver.
“Yes. That was what I wished to show you tonight. You have a way with grimoires, an affinity for them that I have never seen in an apprentice before. But despite that, you still have much to learn. You want to become a warden, do you not?”
Spoken in front of the Director, witnessed by the angel statues lining the walls, Elisabeth’s soft reply possessed the quality of a confession. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Just remember that there are many paths open to you.” The scar’s distortion gave the Director’s mouth an almost rueful cast. “Be certain, before you choose, that the life of a warden is what you truly desire.”
Elisabeth nodded, not trusting herself to speak. If she had passed the test, she didn’t understand why the Director would advise her to consider forsaking her dream. Perhaps she had shown herself in some other way to be unready, unprepared. In that case, she would simply have to try harder. She had a year left before she turned seventeen and became eligible for training at the Collegium—time she could use to prove herself beyond a doubt, and earn the Director’s approval. She only hoped it would be enough.
Together, they wrestled the grimoire back into the coffer. As soon as it touched the salt, it ceased struggling. The eyes rolled upward, showing crescents of milky white before they sagged shut. The slam of the lid shattered the vault’s sepulchral quiet. The coffer wouldn’t be opened again for years, perhaps decades. It was secure. It posed a threat no longer.
But she couldn’t banish the sound of its voice from her thoughts, or the feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of the Book of Eyes—and it had not seen the last of her.
NIGHT FELL AS death rode into the Great Library of Summershall. It arrived within a carriage. Elisabeth stood in the courtyard and watched the horses thunder wild-eyed through the gates, throwing froth from their mouths. High above, the last of the sunset blazed on the Great Library’s tower windows, as if the rooms inside had been set on fire—but the light retreated swiftly, shrinking upward, drawing long fingers of shadow from the angels and gargoyles who guarded the library’s rain-streaked parapets.
A gilt insignia shone upon the carriage’s side as it rattled to a halt: a crossed quill and key, the symbol of the Collegium. Iron bars transformed the rear of the carriage into a prison cell. Though the night was cool, sweat slicked Elisabeth’s palms.
“Scrivener,” said the woman beside her. “Do you have your salt? Your gloves?”
Elisabeth patted the leather straps that crisscrossed her chest, feeling for the pouches they held, the canister of salt that hung at her hip. “Yes, Director.” All she was missing was a sword. But she wouldn’t earn that until she became a warden, after years of training at the Collegium. Few librarians made it that far. They either gave up, or they died.
“Good.” The Director paused. She was a remote, elegant woman with ice-pale features and hair as red as flame. A scar ran from her left temple all the way to her jaw, puckering her cheek and pulling one corner of her mouth permanently to the side. Like Elisabeth, she wore leather straps over her chest, but she had on a warden’s uniform beneath them instead of an apprentice’s robes. Lamplight glinted off the brass buttons on her dark blue coat and shone from her polished boots. The sword belted at her side was slender and tapered, with garnets glittering on its pommel.
That sword was famous at Summershall. It was named Demonslayer, and the Director had used it to battle a Malefict when she was only nineteen years old. That was where she had gotten the scar, which was rumored to cause her excruciating agony whenever she spoke. Elisabeth doubted the accuracy of those rumors, but it was true that the Director chose her words carefully, and certainly never smiled.
“Remember,” the Director went on at last, “if you hear a voice in your mind once we reach the vault, do not listen to what it says. This is a Class Eight, centuries old, and not to be trifled with. Since its creation, it has driven dozens of people mad. Are you ready?”
Elisabeth swallowed. The knot in her throat prevented her from answering. She could hardly believe the Director was speaking to her, much less that she had summoned her to help transport a delivery to the vault. Ordinarily such a responsibility fell far above the rank of apprentice librarian. Hope ricocheted through her like a bird trapped within a house, taking flight, falling, and taking flight again, exhausting itself for the promise of open skies far away. Terror flickered after it like a shadow.
She’s giving me a chance to prove that I’m worth training as a warden, she thought. If I fail, I will die. Then at least I’ll have a use. They can bury me in the garden to feed the radishes.
Wiping her sweaty palms on the sides of her robes, she nodded.
The Director set off across the courtyard, and Elisabeth followed. Gravel crunched beneath their heels. A foul stench clotted the air as they drew nearer, like waterlogged leather left to rot on the seashore. Elisabeth had grown up in the Great Library, surrounded by the ink-and-parchment smell of magical tomes, but this was far from what she was used to. The stench stung her eyes and stippled her arms with goose bumps. It was even making the horses nervous. They shied in their traces, scattering gravel as they ignored the driver’s attempts to calm them down. In a way she envied them, for at least they didn’t know what had ridden behind them all the way from the capital.
A pair of wardens leaped down from the front of the carriage, their hands planted on the hilts of their swords. Elisabeth forced herself not to shrink back when they glowered at her. Instead she straightened her spine and lifted her chin, endeavoring to match their stony expressions. She might never earn a blade, but at least she could appear brave enough to wield one.
The Director’s key ring rattled, and the carriage’s rear doors swung open with a shuddering groan. At first, in the gloom, the iron-lined cell appeared empty. Then Elisabeth made out an object on the floor: a flat, square, iron coffer, secured with more than a dozen locks. To a layperson, the precautions would have appeared absurd—but not for long. In the twilit silence, a single, reverberating thud issued from within the coffer, powerful enough to shake the carriage and rattle the doors on their hinges. One of the horses screamed.
“Quickly,” the Director said. She took one of the coffer’s handles, and Elisabeth seized the other. They hefted its weight between them and proceeded toward a door with an inscription carved atop it, the arching scroll clasped on either side by weeping angels. OFFICIUM ADUSQUE MORTEM, it read dimly, nearly obscured by shadow. The warden’s motto. Duty unto death.
They entered a long stone corridor burnished by the jumping light of torches. The coffer’s leaden weight already strained Elisabeth’s arm. It did not move again, but its stillness failed to reassure her, for she suspected what it meant: the book within was listening. It was waiting.
Another warden stood guard beside the entrance to the vault. When he saw Elisabeth at the Director’s side, his small eyes gleamed with loathing. This was Warden Finch. He was a grizzled man with short gray hair and a puffy face into which his features seemed to recede, like raisins in a bread pudding. Among the apprentices, he was infamous for the fact that his right hand was larger than the other, bulging with muscle, because he exercised it so often whipping them.
She squeezed the coffer’s handle until her knuckles turned white, instinctively bracing herself for a blow, but Finch could do nothing to her in front of the Director. Muttering beneath his breath, he heaved on a chain. Inch by inch, the portcullis rose, lifting its sharp black teeth above their heads. Elisabeth stepped forward.
And the coffer lurched.
“Steady,” the Director snapped, as both of them careened against the stone wall, barely keeping their balance. Elisabeth’s stomach swooped. Her boot hung over the edge of a spiral stair that twisted vertiginously down into darkness.
The horrible truth dawned on her. The grimoire had wanted them to fall. She imagined the coffer tumbling down the stairs, striking the flagstones at the bottom, bursting open—and it would have been her fault—
The Director’s hand clasped her shoulder. “It’s all right, Scrivener. Nothing’s happened. Grip the rail and keep going.”
With an effort, Elisabeth turned away from Finch’s condemning scowl. Down they went. A subterranean chill wafted up from below, smelling of cold rock and mildew, and of something less natural. The stone itself bled the malice of ancient things that had languished in darkness for centuries—consciousnesses that did not slumber, minds that did not dream. Muffled by thousands of pounds of earth, the silence was such that she heard only her own pulse pounding in her ears.
She had spent her childhood exploring the Great Library’s myriad nooks and crannies, prying into its countless mysteries, but she had never been inside the vault. Its presence had lurked beneath the library her entire life like something unspeakable hiding under the bed.
This is my chance, she reminded herself. She could not be afraid.
They emerged into a chamber that resembled a cathedral’s crypt. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all carved from the same gray stone. The ribbed pillars and vaulted ceilings had been crafted with artistry, even reverence. Statues of angels stood in niches along the walls, candles guttering at their feet. With sorrowful, shadowed eyes, they watched over the rows of iron shelves that formed aisles down the center of the vault. Unlike the bookcases in the upper portions of the library, these were welded in place. Chains secured the locked coffers, which slid between the shelves like drawers.
Elisabeth assured herself that it was her imagination conjuring up whispers from the coffers as they passed. A thick layer of dust coated the chains. Most of the coffers hadn’t been disturbed in decades, and their inhabitants remained fast asleep. Yet the back of her neck still prickled as though she were being watched.
The Director guided her beyond the shelves, toward a cell with a table bolted to the floor at the center. A single oil lamp cast a jaundiced glow across its ink-stained surface. The coffer remained unsettlingly cooperative as they set it down beside four enormous gashes, like giant claw marks, that scarred the table’s wood. Elisabeth’s eyes darted to the gashes again and again. She knew what had made them. What happened when a grimoire got out of control.
Malefict.
“What precaution do we take first?” the Director asked, jolting Elisabeth from her thoughts. The test had begun.
“Salt,” she answered, reaching for the canister at her hip. “Like iron, salt weakens demonic energies.” Her hand trembled slightly as she shook out the crystals, forming a lopsided circle. Shame flushed her cheeks at the sight of its uneven edges. What if she wasn’t ready, after all?
The barest hint of warmth softened the Director’s severe face. “Do you know why I chose to keep you, Elisabeth?”
Elisabeth froze, the breath trapped in her chest. The Director had never addressed her by her given name—only her last name, Scrivener, or sometimes just “apprentice,” depending on how much trouble she was in, which was often a fantastic amount. “No, Director,” she said.
“Hmm. It was storming, I recall. The grimoires were restless that night. They were making so much noise that I barely heard the knock on the front doors.” Elisabeth could easily picture the scene. Rain lashing against the windows, the tomes howling and sobbing and rattling beneath their restraints. “When I found you on the steps, and picked you up and brought you inside, I was certain you would cry. Instead, you looked around and began to laugh. You were not afraid. At that moment I knew I couldn’t send you away to an orphanage. You belonged in the library, as much as any book.”
Elisabeth had been told the story before, but only by her tutor, never the Director herself. Two words echoed through her mind with the vitality of a heartbeat: you belonged. They were words that she had waited sixteen years to hear, and desperately hoped were true.
In breathless silence, she watched the Director reach for her keys and select the largest one, ancient enough to have rusted almost beyond recognition. It was clear that for the Director, the time for sentiment had passed. Elisabeth contented herself with repeating the unspoken vow she had held close for nearly as long as she could remember. One day, she would become a warden, too. She would make the Director proud.
Salt cascaded onto the table as the coffer’s lid creaked open. A stench of rotting leather rolled across the vault, so potent that she almost gagged.
A grimoire lay inside. It was a thick volume with disheveled, yellowing pages sandwiched between slabs of greasy black leather. It would have looked fairly ordinary, if not for the bulbous protrusions that bulged from the cover. They resembled giant warts, or bubbles on the surface of a pool of tar. Each was the size of a large marble, and there were dozens altogether, deforming nearly every inch of the leather’s surface.
The Director pulled on a heavy pair of iron-lined gloves. Elisabeth hastened to follow her example. She bit the inside of her cheek as the Director lifted the book from the coffer and placed it within the circle of salt.
The instant the Director set it down, the protrusions split open. They weren’t warts—they were eyes. Eyes of every color, bloodstained and rolling, the pupils dilating and contracting to pinpricks as the grimoire convulsed in the Director’s hands. Gritting her teeth, she forced it open. Automatically, Elisabeth reached into the circle and clamped down the other side, feeling the leather twitch and heave through her gloves. Furious. Alive.
Those eyes were not sorcerous conjurations. They were real, plucked from human skulls long ago, sacrificed to create a volume powerful enough to contain the spells etched across its pages. According to history, most sacrifices had not been willing.
“The Book of Eyes,” the Director said, perfectly calm. “It contains spells that allow sorcerers to reach into the minds of others, read their thoughts, and even control their actions. Fortunately, only a handful of sorcerers in the entire kingdom have ever been granted permission to read it.”
“Why would they want to?” Elisabeth burst out, before she could stop herself. The answer was obvious. Sorcerers were evil by nature, corrupted by the demonic magic they wielded. If it weren’t for the Reforms, which had made it illegal for sorcerers to bind books with human parts, grimoires like the Book of Eyes wouldn’t be so exceptionally rare. No doubt sorcerers had attempted to replicate it over the years, but the spells couldn’t be written down using ordinary materials. The sorcery’s power would instantly reduce the ink and parchment to ashes.
To her surprise, the Director took her question seriously, though she was no longer looking at Elisabeth. Instead she focused on turning the pages, inspecting them for any damage they might have sustained during the journey. “There may come a time when spells like these are necessary, no matter how foul. We have a great responsibility to our kingdom, Scrivener. If this grimoire were destroyed, its spells would be lost forever. It’s the only one of its kind.”
“Yes, Director.” That, she understood. Wardens both protected grimoires from the world, and protected the world from them.
She braced herself as the Director paused, leaning down to examine a stain on one of the pages. Transferring high-class grimoires came at a risk, since any accidental damage could provoke their transformation into a Malefict. They needed to be inspected carefully before their interment in the vault. Elisabeth felt certain that several of the eyes, peering out from beneath the cover, were aimed directly at her—and that they glittered with cunning.
Somehow, she knew she shouldn’t meet their gaze. Hoping to distract herself, she glanced aside to the pages. Some of the sentences were written in Austermeerish or the Old Tongue. But others were scrawled in Enochian, the language of sorcerers, made up of strange, jagged runes that shimmered on the parchment like smoldering embers. It was a language one could only learn by consorting with demons. Merely looking at the runes made her temples throb.
“Apprentice…”
The whisper slithered against her mind, as alien and unexpected as the cold, slimy touch of a fish beneath the water of a pond. Elisabeth jerked and looked up. If the Director heard the voice, too, she showed no sign.
“Apprentice, I see you.…”
Elisabeth’s breath caught. She did as the Director had instructed and tried to ignore the voice, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything else with so many eyes watching her, agleam with sinister intelligence.
“Look at me… look…”
Slowly but surely, as if drawn by an invisible force, Elisabeth’s gaze began to travel downward.
“There,” said the Director. Her voice sounded dim and distorted, like she was speaking from underwater. “We are finished. Scrivener?”
When Elisabeth didn’t answer, the Director slammed the grimoire shut, cutting its voice off midwhisper. Elisabeth’s senses rushed back. She sucked in a breath, her face burning with humiliation. The eyes bulged furiously, darting between her and the Director.
“Well done,” the Director said. “You held out much longer than I expected.”
“It almost had me,” Elisabeth whispered. How could the Director congratulate her? A clammy sweat clung to her skin, and in the vault’s chill, she began to shiver.
“Yes. That was what I wished to show you tonight. You have a way with grimoires, an affinity for them that I have never seen in an apprentice before. But despite that, you still have much to learn. You want to become a warden, do you not?”
Spoken in front of the Director, witnessed by the angel statues lining the walls, Elisabeth’s soft reply possessed the quality of a confession. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Just remember that there are many paths open to you.” The scar’s distortion gave the Director’s mouth an almost rueful cast. “Be certain, before you choose, that the life of a warden is what you truly desire.”
Elisabeth nodded, not trusting herself to speak. If she had passed the test, she didn’t understand why the Director would advise her to consider forsaking her dream. Perhaps she had shown herself in some other way to be unready, unprepared. In that case, she would simply have to try harder. She had a year left before she turned seventeen and became eligible for training at the Collegium—time she could use to prove herself beyond a doubt, and earn the Director’s approval. She only hoped it would be enough.
Together, they wrestled the grimoire back into the coffer. As soon as it touched the salt, it ceased struggling. The eyes rolled upward, showing crescents of milky white before they sagged shut. The slam of the lid shattered the vault’s sepulchral quiet. The coffer wouldn’t be opened again for years, perhaps decades. It was secure. It posed a threat no longer.
But she couldn’t banish the sound of its voice from her thoughts, or the feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of the Book of Eyes—and it had not seen the last of her.
Product details
- Publisher : Margaret K. McElderry Books; Reprint edition (June 30 2020)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 480 pages
- ISBN-10 : 1481497626
- ISBN-13 : 978-1481497626
- Item weight : 372 g
- Dimensions : 13.97 x 2.79 x 20.96 cm
- Best Sellers Rank: #57,910 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #101 in Paranormal Romance for Young Adults
- #104 in Dark Fantasy for Young Adults
- #279 in Action & Adventure for Young Adults
- Customer Reviews:
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Margaret Rogerson is the New York Times bestselling author of An Enchantment of Ravens. An Ohio native, she currently lives near Cincinnati. She has a bachelor's degree in anthropology, and when not busy reading or writing, she enjoys watching more documentaries than most people consider socially acceptable.
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4.5 out of 5 stars
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2.0 out of 5 stars
The cover is not whats in the picture
Reviewed in Canada on August 13, 2021
I loved the book but I hate how they cut the cover... cut out her eyes and made the cover page smaller then the rest of the book...
Reviewed in Canada on August 13, 2021
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Reviewed in Canada 🇨🇦 on December 9, 2022
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Reviewed in Canada 🇨🇦 on June 9, 2022
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Came quickly and no damage. Really glad to have bought the book from them
Reviewed in Canada 🇨🇦 on June 20, 2021
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I liked the book. I would give it more of a 3.5 stars. The cover is beautiful and I bought it for that.
Reviewed in Canada 🇨🇦 on June 23, 2019
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I would have given this a 5 star, except that it took several chapters to engage me, but once I was in, it was captivating. This is the second book I have read by Margaret Rogerson. An Enchantment of Ravens, her first novel, had me spellbound from the first moment, so while this was a very well written book, it didn't quite live up to the first one. That said, it is still a good read.
Reviewed in Canada 🇨🇦 on August 5, 2021
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the books condition was perfect when it arrived. i am halfway through the book and so far the world building and plot is spectacular!
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Reviewed in Canada 🇨🇦 on March 2, 2021
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Great book, easy to get into but the story is wrapped up into one book. Only one book! I grieved for more but there was none..
Reviewed in Canada 🇨🇦 on August 13, 2021
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I loved the book but I hate how they cut the cover... cut out her eyes and made the cover page smaller then the rest of the book...

2.0 out of 5 stars
The cover is not whats in the picture
Reviewed in Canada 🇨🇦 on August 13, 2021
I loved the book but I hate how they cut the cover... cut out her eyes and made the cover page smaller then the rest of the book...
Reviewed in Canada 🇨🇦 on August 13, 2021
Images in this review

One person found this helpful
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Reviewed in Canada 🇨🇦 on May 10, 2021
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Arrived on time, but the hardcover was squished and broken. I had to order a replacement.
It has really good story and with a really strong female protagonist.
It has really good story and with a really strong female protagonist.
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Laura Machado
5.0 out of 5 stars
Um livro de fantasia completo!
Reviewed in Brazil 🇧🇷 on July 27, 2019Verified Purchase
Eu admiro muito, especialmente como escritora, quem consegue escrever um livro único de fantasia que seja completo e bem escrito. É tão mais fácil desenvolver um universo complexo e até mesmo uma jornada de herói durante mais livros. É por isso que existem tantas séries de fantasia por aí, e poucos livros únicos. Margaret Rogerson fez um trabalho excelente com Sorcery of Thorns, a ponto de eu até não querer outro livro nesse mesmo universo. Não é por falta de amor, pelo contrário. Este livro ficou perfeito demais para ter continuação!
Não são todos os autores que conseguem fazer o que ela fez, é verdade, mas não é questão de competência. Pessoas diferentes têm escritas diferentes. A da Margaret é bastante sucinta, o que lhe dá tempo e espaço para desenvolver um enredo cheio de ramificações e acontecimentos sem deixar a impressão de estar apressado. Normalmente, eu prefiro autores que demoram em cada cena, que as exploram com cuidado e tempo para o leitor ver detalhes sutis e sentir a tensão delas. Mesmo assim, momentos assim aqui não fizeram tanta falta. Não vou dizer que não senti nenhuma, mas foram poucas as vezes em que quis voltar algumas páginas e reler partes só para que elas durassem um pouco mais.
Uma das maiores dificuldades de criar um universo fantástico para um livro só é deixá-lo crível, mas a autora também não falhou nesse ponto. Claro que não daria tempo de ela explicar o mundo todo com muitos detalhes, não sem transformar seu livro em um didático, mas ela ainda conseguiu passar tanta credibilidade sobre ele, que em nenhum momento falta firmeza nessa criação. As menções dos personagens sobre sua história e geografia são tão naturais, ao mesmo tempo informativas, que foi o jeito ideal de explicar como é o país de Austermeer. O universo mágico que a autora criou de livros, ou seja, grimórios, vivos e com personalidade, de magia, magos e os guardiões dos livros de feitiços, é tão rico e interessante! Principalmente para quem também ama livros!
Acontece muita coisa aqui, aliás. Nenhum capítulo foi desperdiçado, nenhuma parte da história se arrasta ou fica chata. Talvez esse seja o ponto alto, o enredo movimentado! O ponto baixo do livro é, afinal, a escrita da autora, que ama metáforas e muitas vezes usa floreios demais. Isso me incomodou mais no primeiro capítulo, pois depois me acostumei e até senti que ela deu uma maneirada. Mas nem chega a ser algo verdadeiramente ruim.
Como não poderia faltar, o que garantiu meu amor por esse livro foram os personagens. Elisabeth não é uma personagem extremamente única, nenhum deles é, mas ela é mais do que competente como protagonista, não deixa a desejar, não dá raiva de suas atitudes, nem tem buracos na sua construção e desenvolvimento. Nathaniel também é incrível, me conquistou em sua primeira cena, e poderia ser mais complexo e único, mas também não chega em nenhum momento a incomodar. Pelo contrário, ele é um amor e todas as cenas em que estava presente melhoraram só por isso.
A Katrien, melhor amiga da Elisabeth, foi uma surpresa, mas bem querida também. Amo ver outras personagens femininas que não competem e em nenhum momento se vêem como rivais. Minha única crítica para os personagens é sobre algo que deveria ser uma coisa boa. A escolha da autora de fazer a Katrien assexual e o Nathaniel bi seria linda, se essas duas informações não tivessem sido só mencionadas e nunca realmente provadas durante o livro. Eu só queria outras cenas ou outras menções também, para que não parecessem um detalhe adicionado só para dizer que tinha diversidade.
Já o Silas foi quem realmente marcou esse livro. Claro que não teria história sem ele, mas é mais do que isso. Toda a relação dele com Nathaniel e com Elisabeth é bem complicada, complexa, cheia de camadas, e cria questões muito importantes sobre o que é o bem e o mal, o que é certo e o que é errado. O final foi emocionante principalmente por ele!
Até em questão de romance esse livro acertou! Não é nem de longe o foco, mas ainda é bem bacana e me ajudou a ficar ainda mais feliz com o enredo! Sim, eu amo romances! E seria impossível não shippar Elisabeth com Nathaniel quando ele é apaixonante!
Tem várias cenas de lutas aqui, de magia, de sofrimento, de batalhas emocionais e físicas e de afeição e carinho entre os personagens. É muito lindo ver tanta história em um livro só! Eu mais do que recomendo, praticamente exijo que todo mundo leia! E que tragam logo para o Brasil, porque esse livro precisa ser espalhado para o mundo!
Não são todos os autores que conseguem fazer o que ela fez, é verdade, mas não é questão de competência. Pessoas diferentes têm escritas diferentes. A da Margaret é bastante sucinta, o que lhe dá tempo e espaço para desenvolver um enredo cheio de ramificações e acontecimentos sem deixar a impressão de estar apressado. Normalmente, eu prefiro autores que demoram em cada cena, que as exploram com cuidado e tempo para o leitor ver detalhes sutis e sentir a tensão delas. Mesmo assim, momentos assim aqui não fizeram tanta falta. Não vou dizer que não senti nenhuma, mas foram poucas as vezes em que quis voltar algumas páginas e reler partes só para que elas durassem um pouco mais.
Uma das maiores dificuldades de criar um universo fantástico para um livro só é deixá-lo crível, mas a autora também não falhou nesse ponto. Claro que não daria tempo de ela explicar o mundo todo com muitos detalhes, não sem transformar seu livro em um didático, mas ela ainda conseguiu passar tanta credibilidade sobre ele, que em nenhum momento falta firmeza nessa criação. As menções dos personagens sobre sua história e geografia são tão naturais, ao mesmo tempo informativas, que foi o jeito ideal de explicar como é o país de Austermeer. O universo mágico que a autora criou de livros, ou seja, grimórios, vivos e com personalidade, de magia, magos e os guardiões dos livros de feitiços, é tão rico e interessante! Principalmente para quem também ama livros!
Acontece muita coisa aqui, aliás. Nenhum capítulo foi desperdiçado, nenhuma parte da história se arrasta ou fica chata. Talvez esse seja o ponto alto, o enredo movimentado! O ponto baixo do livro é, afinal, a escrita da autora, que ama metáforas e muitas vezes usa floreios demais. Isso me incomodou mais no primeiro capítulo, pois depois me acostumei e até senti que ela deu uma maneirada. Mas nem chega a ser algo verdadeiramente ruim.
Como não poderia faltar, o que garantiu meu amor por esse livro foram os personagens. Elisabeth não é uma personagem extremamente única, nenhum deles é, mas ela é mais do que competente como protagonista, não deixa a desejar, não dá raiva de suas atitudes, nem tem buracos na sua construção e desenvolvimento. Nathaniel também é incrível, me conquistou em sua primeira cena, e poderia ser mais complexo e único, mas também não chega em nenhum momento a incomodar. Pelo contrário, ele é um amor e todas as cenas em que estava presente melhoraram só por isso.
A Katrien, melhor amiga da Elisabeth, foi uma surpresa, mas bem querida também. Amo ver outras personagens femininas que não competem e em nenhum momento se vêem como rivais. Minha única crítica para os personagens é sobre algo que deveria ser uma coisa boa. A escolha da autora de fazer a Katrien assexual e o Nathaniel bi seria linda, se essas duas informações não tivessem sido só mencionadas e nunca realmente provadas durante o livro. Eu só queria outras cenas ou outras menções também, para que não parecessem um detalhe adicionado só para dizer que tinha diversidade.
Já o Silas foi quem realmente marcou esse livro. Claro que não teria história sem ele, mas é mais do que isso. Toda a relação dele com Nathaniel e com Elisabeth é bem complicada, complexa, cheia de camadas, e cria questões muito importantes sobre o que é o bem e o mal, o que é certo e o que é errado. O final foi emocionante principalmente por ele!
Até em questão de romance esse livro acertou! Não é nem de longe o foco, mas ainda é bem bacana e me ajudou a ficar ainda mais feliz com o enredo! Sim, eu amo romances! E seria impossível não shippar Elisabeth com Nathaniel quando ele é apaixonante!
Tem várias cenas de lutas aqui, de magia, de sofrimento, de batalhas emocionais e físicas e de afeição e carinho entre os personagens. É muito lindo ver tanta história em um livro só! Eu mais do que recomendo, praticamente exijo que todo mundo leia! E que tragam logo para o Brasil, porque esse livro precisa ser espalhado para o mundo!


Laura Machado
Reviewed in Brazil 🇧🇷 on July 27, 2019
Não são todos os autores que conseguem fazer o que ela fez, é verdade, mas não é questão de competência. Pessoas diferentes têm escritas diferentes. A da Margaret é bastante sucinta, o que lhe dá tempo e espaço para desenvolver um enredo cheio de ramificações e acontecimentos sem deixar a impressão de estar apressado. Normalmente, eu prefiro autores que demoram em cada cena, que as exploram com cuidado e tempo para o leitor ver detalhes sutis e sentir a tensão delas. Mesmo assim, momentos assim aqui não fizeram tanta falta. Não vou dizer que não senti nenhuma, mas foram poucas as vezes em que quis voltar algumas páginas e reler partes só para que elas durassem um pouco mais.
Uma das maiores dificuldades de criar um universo fantástico para um livro só é deixá-lo crível, mas a autora também não falhou nesse ponto. Claro que não daria tempo de ela explicar o mundo todo com muitos detalhes, não sem transformar seu livro em um didático, mas ela ainda conseguiu passar tanta credibilidade sobre ele, que em nenhum momento falta firmeza nessa criação. As menções dos personagens sobre sua história e geografia são tão naturais, ao mesmo tempo informativas, que foi o jeito ideal de explicar como é o país de Austermeer. O universo mágico que a autora criou de livros, ou seja, grimórios, vivos e com personalidade, de magia, magos e os guardiões dos livros de feitiços, é tão rico e interessante! Principalmente para quem também ama livros!
Acontece muita coisa aqui, aliás. Nenhum capítulo foi desperdiçado, nenhuma parte da história se arrasta ou fica chata. Talvez esse seja o ponto alto, o enredo movimentado! O ponto baixo do livro é, afinal, a escrita da autora, que ama metáforas e muitas vezes usa floreios demais. Isso me incomodou mais no primeiro capítulo, pois depois me acostumei e até senti que ela deu uma maneirada. Mas nem chega a ser algo verdadeiramente ruim.
Como não poderia faltar, o que garantiu meu amor por esse livro foram os personagens. Elisabeth não é uma personagem extremamente única, nenhum deles é, mas ela é mais do que competente como protagonista, não deixa a desejar, não dá raiva de suas atitudes, nem tem buracos na sua construção e desenvolvimento. Nathaniel também é incrível, me conquistou em sua primeira cena, e poderia ser mais complexo e único, mas também não chega em nenhum momento a incomodar. Pelo contrário, ele é um amor e todas as cenas em que estava presente melhoraram só por isso.
A Katrien, melhor amiga da Elisabeth, foi uma surpresa, mas bem querida também. Amo ver outras personagens femininas que não competem e em nenhum momento se vêem como rivais. Minha única crítica para os personagens é sobre algo que deveria ser uma coisa boa. A escolha da autora de fazer a Katrien assexual e o Nathaniel bi seria linda, se essas duas informações não tivessem sido só mencionadas e nunca realmente provadas durante o livro. Eu só queria outras cenas ou outras menções também, para que não parecessem um detalhe adicionado só para dizer que tinha diversidade.
Já o Silas foi quem realmente marcou esse livro. Claro que não teria história sem ele, mas é mais do que isso. Toda a relação dele com Nathaniel e com Elisabeth é bem complicada, complexa, cheia de camadas, e cria questões muito importantes sobre o que é o bem e o mal, o que é certo e o que é errado. O final foi emocionante principalmente por ele!
Até em questão de romance esse livro acertou! Não é nem de longe o foco, mas ainda é bem bacana e me ajudou a ficar ainda mais feliz com o enredo! Sim, eu amo romances! E seria impossível não shippar Elisabeth com Nathaniel quando ele é apaixonante!
Tem várias cenas de lutas aqui, de magia, de sofrimento, de batalhas emocionais e físicas e de afeição e carinho entre os personagens. É muito lindo ver tanta história em um livro só! Eu mais do que recomendo, praticamente exijo que todo mundo leia! E que tragam logo para o Brasil, porque esse livro precisa ser espalhado para o mundo!
Images in this review


Justine (I Should Read That)
4.0 out of 5 stars
Swashbuckling fantasy fun
Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on August 5, 2019Verified Purchase
I was sent a digital copy of this book by the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This is a spoiler-free review.
I was captivated by the cover of Rogerson’s debut, An Enchantment of Ravens, but was ultimately lukewarm on the book itself. Despite this, I perked up when I heard about the release of Sorcery of Thorns. Not only does Sorcery have a great cover as well, it sounded like my exact cup of tea where Enchantment did not — who doesn’t love sword-wielding librarians, sentient grimoires, and sassy magicians? I’m so pleased to say that I really, really enjoyed Sorcery of Thorns and am so happy I gave her writing another chance.
You know what I haven’t done in awhile? Read a book that’s just pure fun. That’s what Sorcery of Thorns gave me — pure fun. I read the majority of this book while I was stuck at home with a cold and it’s the perfect read for a sick day. It reminded me in many ways of The Princess Bride — the ultimate sick day film — with it’s swaggering hero and delightful banter. Although it has some dark moments — it does, after all, feature a necromancy and conspiracy — I found this book to be an absolute delight. If you’re a little burned out on super grim fantasy books, I couldn’t recommend this one more highly.
The characters are at the heart of what makes this book so fun. I absolutely loved their relationships and the connections they forge as the story progresses. I will admit that Elizabeth was probably my least favourite of our three main characters though. It took me awhile to warm up to her and she initially came across as, ahem, not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. I understand that she grew up in isolation and didn’t have a lot of worldly experience, however I still had trouble connecting with her until the second half of the book. Although I’m not often a huge fan of YA heroes, I found Nathaniel totally charming and delightful.
However, one character stole the show for me, and that was Silas. The demonic servant who takes on the form of an adorable fluffy white cat (a reference to Mogget from Sabriel, perhaps?)? The quiet, non-human caretaker who looks after our bumbling humans from the shadows? Of course he was my favourite character. I would love a novella that takes place before Sorcery of Thorns that just follows Silas. Actually, I’d love a whole spin-off series about Silas. More Silas is required.
I was so surprised and impressed by Sorcery of Thorns. If you didn’t enjoy An Enchantment of Ravens but like the sound of this book, I’d highly encourage you to pick it up. Sorcery of Thorns is the perfect book to read in a single sitting — you’ll tumble into the pages and lose yourself in the story.
I was captivated by the cover of Rogerson’s debut, An Enchantment of Ravens, but was ultimately lukewarm on the book itself. Despite this, I perked up when I heard about the release of Sorcery of Thorns. Not only does Sorcery have a great cover as well, it sounded like my exact cup of tea where Enchantment did not — who doesn’t love sword-wielding librarians, sentient grimoires, and sassy magicians? I’m so pleased to say that I really, really enjoyed Sorcery of Thorns and am so happy I gave her writing another chance.
You know what I haven’t done in awhile? Read a book that’s just pure fun. That’s what Sorcery of Thorns gave me — pure fun. I read the majority of this book while I was stuck at home with a cold and it’s the perfect read for a sick day. It reminded me in many ways of The Princess Bride — the ultimate sick day film — with it’s swaggering hero and delightful banter. Although it has some dark moments — it does, after all, feature a necromancy and conspiracy — I found this book to be an absolute delight. If you’re a little burned out on super grim fantasy books, I couldn’t recommend this one more highly.
The characters are at the heart of what makes this book so fun. I absolutely loved their relationships and the connections they forge as the story progresses. I will admit that Elizabeth was probably my least favourite of our three main characters though. It took me awhile to warm up to her and she initially came across as, ahem, not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. I understand that she grew up in isolation and didn’t have a lot of worldly experience, however I still had trouble connecting with her until the second half of the book. Although I’m not often a huge fan of YA heroes, I found Nathaniel totally charming and delightful.
However, one character stole the show for me, and that was Silas. The demonic servant who takes on the form of an adorable fluffy white cat (a reference to Mogget from Sabriel, perhaps?)? The quiet, non-human caretaker who looks after our bumbling humans from the shadows? Of course he was my favourite character. I would love a novella that takes place before Sorcery of Thorns that just follows Silas. Actually, I’d love a whole spin-off series about Silas. More Silas is required.
I was so surprised and impressed by Sorcery of Thorns. If you didn’t enjoy An Enchantment of Ravens but like the sound of this book, I’d highly encourage you to pick it up. Sorcery of Thorns is the perfect book to read in a single sitting — you’ll tumble into the pages and lose yourself in the story.
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leonie
5.0 out of 5 stars
Set in libraries.. enough said!
Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on August 21, 2019Verified Purchase
Synopsis: Elisabeth has grown up in one of the Great Libraries, her whole life has been spent amongst the magical grimoires that the library protects. Since the reforms the grimoires are classified and Elisabeth knows this is important to protect the world from the evil of sorcery. Her biggest wish is to be made a warden of the library, someone who can protect the world if any of the grimoires turn into evil maleficts gross monsters made of ink and leather. But when an act of sabotage turns one of the most dangerous grimoires into a malefict Elisabeth is implicated in the crime and sent away to trial with the sorcerer Nathaniel Thorn. But everything is not as it seems, as Elisabeth and Nathaniel uncover a dangerous conspiracy that dates back centuries and could bring the Libraries and the world to its knees.
This book was like Harry Potter meets Sabriel. I loved the world of the libraries and the wonderful grimoires, Elisabeth was a great character full of determination and spirit, Nathaniel that perfect snarky attitude boy that fans of Jace and Will from Cassandra Clare's Shadowhunter novels will love. I loved the relationship between Elisabeth, Nathaniel and Silas.
This was a wonderful standalone with a perfect storyline and fantastic characters!
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Bookfriend
5.0 out of 5 stars
Grimoires Rock!
Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on June 22, 2019Verified Purchase
Strictly speaking the "heroine" of this story is Elisabeth, but unofficially? - the happy ending couldn't have come about without the help of an amazing demon and hundreds of brave grimoires!
Which is odd, as they're supposed to be books of evil ... aren't they?? I was so proud of them ... what a softie!
Never judge a book by its cover folks, one of the strong messages of this story. Applies to libraries, and people too!
I've always loved libraries, reading, books, and magic. How could I not love this story? Another one based around a library would be fantastic - they're such fascinating places. Don't we think?
Which is odd, as they're supposed to be books of evil ... aren't they?? I was so proud of them ... what a softie!
Never judge a book by its cover folks, one of the strong messages of this story. Applies to libraries, and people too!
I've always loved libraries, reading, books, and magic. How could I not love this story? Another one based around a library would be fantastic - they're such fascinating places. Don't we think?
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Jennifer Newman
5.0 out of 5 stars
Enchanting storytelling
Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on January 19, 2023Verified Purchase
From the very first page I was entranced by Margaret Rogerson’s storytelling. Through the most enchanting of writing the story follows Elisabeth, an orphan who grew up in one of the Great Libraries. But this is no ordinary library, this is a place where every bookworms dream come to life, for the books are alive.
When disaster occurs and Elisabeth is suspected of being the saboteur, she struggle to reconcile all that she grew up believing about magic and the connections she builds as she proves her innocence.
“She was no hero, just a girl in a nightgown who happened to be holding a sword.”
“Magic, she thought. That is what magic looks like. And then, before she could stop herself, It’s beautiful.”
Nathanial Thorn, where do I even begin? The handsome sorcerer with a tragic past. His character really holds its own, his witty banter with Elisabeth made me enjoy this book all the more. We can’t forget his ever loyal servant Silas, he never pretends to be anything other than exactly who he is and I could not get enough!
Rogerson has created a story with such meaningful relationships and an incredibly detailed fantasy world, where the villain isn’t just the most obvious. Sometimes it’s society as a whole, those that don’t question enough or look the other way.
“She now understood that the world wasn’t kind to young women, especially when they behaved in ways men didn’t like, and spoke truths that men weren’t ready to hear.”
I can’t wait to read more from Margaret Rogerson, I’m so ready to be swept away by another beautiful world.
When disaster occurs and Elisabeth is suspected of being the saboteur, she struggle to reconcile all that she grew up believing about magic and the connections she builds as she proves her innocence.
“She was no hero, just a girl in a nightgown who happened to be holding a sword.”
“Magic, she thought. That is what magic looks like. And then, before she could stop herself, It’s beautiful.”
Nathanial Thorn, where do I even begin? The handsome sorcerer with a tragic past. His character really holds its own, his witty banter with Elisabeth made me enjoy this book all the more. We can’t forget his ever loyal servant Silas, he never pretends to be anything other than exactly who he is and I could not get enough!
Rogerson has created a story with such meaningful relationships and an incredibly detailed fantasy world, where the villain isn’t just the most obvious. Sometimes it’s society as a whole, those that don’t question enough or look the other way.
“She now understood that the world wasn’t kind to young women, especially when they behaved in ways men didn’t like, and spoke truths that men weren’t ready to hear.”
I can’t wait to read more from Margaret Rogerson, I’m so ready to be swept away by another beautiful world.
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