"There is no bigger bastard than a man who thinks he's a hero."
Thessa is a young noblewoman who has an unfortunate run-in with a werewolf on her engagement night. Lokenn is a fugitive necromancer, out to restore the reputation of his maligned art. Corlis is an innkeeper with a dying aunt and rapidly mounting debts.
In a string of bad luck and worse decisions, the three of them land neck-deep in an undercover investigation. Soon enough, theyâre skulking in warehouses, dining with crime lords, and occasionally bleeding in alleys. The powers that be give them three days to find answers, but the real question is whether they can put up with each other that long.
Meanwhile, at the other end of town, an officer works on a murder case that has nothing to do with them. Except that it involves the same warehouse, the same crime lord, and also Lokenn.
"There is no bigger bastard than a man who thinks he's a hero."
Thessa is a young noblewoman who has an unfortunate run-in with a werewolf on her engagement night. Lokenn is a fugitive necromancer, out to restore the reputation of his maligned art. Corlis is an innkeeper with a dying aunt and rapidly mounting debts.
In a string of bad luck and worse decisions, the three of them land neck-deep in an undercover investigation. Soon enough, theyâre skulking in warehouses, dining with crime lords, and occasionally bleeding in alleys. The powers that be give them three days to find answers, but the real question is whether they can put up with each other that long.
Meanwhile, at the other end of town, an officer works on a murder case that has nothing to do with them. Except that it involves the same warehouse, the same crime lord, and also Lokenn.
Thessa sat by the polished ebony table, with her back as straight as humanly possible. In her lap, her hands rested in a graceful fold. Her lips curved into a well-rehearsed, modest smile. And across from her, enthroned on their plush bench, were the two people she hoped never to see after tonight.
Her suspicion was already raised when Papa called her to dine together. He had returned from his latest travels earlier that day, and Thessa dutifully greeted him in the inner courtyard, alongside Mama and the household staff. He gave them both a kiss, and had his servant hand over the usual gifts of ointments and hairbrushes heâd brought with him. Normally, that was where his attention ended. When he expressly asked Thessa to join him and Mama in the evening, she knew he had something important to say.
That suspicion was all but confirmed the moment Thessa set foot in the family dining hall. Most days, the marble floor and mahogany walls were illuminated by a single quartz fitted in the chandelier above the table. This time, however, Papa had ordered four additional standing lamps to be placed in the four corners. Altogether, the five glowing crystals flooded the room in light that would have outshone the sun itself. âBright news in bright rooms,â went the old Sallician proverb, and Papa was nothing if not traditional.
There was not a doubt in her mindâPapa had finally scraped her a husband. Thessa wanted nothing more than to hear it for herself and be done with it, but of course that would not do. After the ordeal it had been to get their fourth daughter married, there was no way her parents wouldnât take the time to congratulate themselves. Thus, she sat on her cushion, in silence and humility, counting the minutes.
Papa clapped twice, and the serving maids came forward with the food. In mere moments, the black of the table disappeared under trays of olives and cheeses, nuts and fruits, salted and spiced meats, and pitchers of unwatered wine. Three daughters had already moved out of the Kalou household years ago, but the dinner spread remained the same. At least Thessa didnât have to fight for the best treats any more.
âFrom my hand, to you,â Papa announced per custom.
Mama and Thessa replied in unison, âMay the gods pay it back.â
Thessa took a plate and promptly heaped it with fresh cheese, rosemary bread, and lentils, all the while ignoring her motherâs gaze. She had long given up on moderation, as she had no hope to compete on that front. Not only did Mama consider the mere act of chewing horridly unladylike, but also made a point to always put less on her plate than any of her children. If Thessa had eaten a single roasted almond for dinner, Mama would have sucked the salt off of one, then thrown it away.
Even now, at her fourth daughterâs engagement, Lady Kalou looked more like a sister to Thessa than a mother. Her hair fell pitch black and perfectly straight onto her naked shoulders, which glistened in the quartz light as though theyâd been cast of bronze. A closely cut dress of pure white accented her slender waist, flowed to the floor like fresh milk, and provided a perfect excuse not to eat anything that might leave a stain or a crumb.
Next to her, Papa showed enough of his age for both of them. His curly hair was more like ash than coal, and his beard did a poor job of hiding his jowls. Most telling, though, were the rows of crowâs feet around his eyes. Lord Protector Xanthias Kalou was seldom said to be handsome, but he was nonetheless popular, because he always smiled. When Thessa was a girl, that smile made her feel loved and safe. Over the years, she found that Papa smiled like that at everyone, including the trespassers he sentenced to death.
The dinner, as always, passed in complete silence. The only sound, outside of the table, was the tinkle of the wind chimes whenever a breeze blew across the open arches of the dining hall. Summer was less than a month away, and threatened with yet another season of feasts and gatherings. With any luck, the first one where Thessa would no longer be seated alone. Or at all, if she had the unthinkable fortune of being married outside the province.
It wasnât until the trays had been cleared away, and the coffee brew was served, that Papa spoke again. âHow wonderful that you could join us,â he said, as if Thessa had come to see them from across the world, rather than the west wing of the manor.
âThank you, Papa.â She nodded. âIt pleases me so to see you again. Have you rested from your journey? I hope it hasnât exhausted you. Did you ride a steam train to Yliossome?â
âThereâs no need to speak so much,â Mama said from behind the same thimble of wine she had during the meal. âYour father will share as much as he chooses.â
âThatâs all right. It is a special night, after all.â Papa waved generously. âYes, I did ride the train. It runs all the way to the border now, and they have all manner of comforts these days. Some of them you can even sleep in! Wouldnât you like to see that, Thessa?â
See it and ride it, far away from you, Thessa thought to herself, while she said, âIt sounds marvelous, Papa.â Her mind and her mouth spoke different words more often than not.
âI should imagine. Donât think I havenât noticed you sneaking into my study to peek at my roadbooks,â he said, and wagged a playful finger at his daughter.
You didnât notice. The servants told you, after you beat them because you thought they were stealing your books. Thessa dropped a piece of rock sugar into her coffee, and stirred it to give herself a reason to look away.
Either way, he was right. Whenever Thessa wasnât in her endless courtesy lessons or embroidery practices, she would snatch one of the many travel journals from Papaâs shelf. As she leafed through them in her room, she dreamed of all the lands she would visit one day. That was all she had to look forward to. She watched her three sisters be courted by the cream of Sallician nobility, and waited year after year to get a life of her own. But her seventeenth summer came and went, with not a suitor in sight. And then two more after that.
âWell, the day you take a journey of your own is closer than you may think.â Papa spread his arms, and Mama took his hand. âTonight, Thessalona Kalou, is your last night as a maiden.â
Thessa had feigned shock more than enough times, as she listened to the hundredth hunting tale from some lordling at a feast. She raised her hand delicately, first to her mouth, then to her bosom, and let out a shuddering breath. âTruly, Papa? Have you found me a husband?â
âIndeed, I have, and not just any husband. Youâre betrothed to none other than Salemos Magelakis, second son to the greatlord of Mneossome.â
Thessaâs breath shuddered again. This time, it wasnât feigned.
âThe second son of a greatlord,â Mama echoed. âIsnât that wonderful?â Her words were kind, but rang with an edge of reproach that Thessa wasnât overflowing with joy.
But Thessa had no reason to. Not after hearing the name. Over the years learning how to be a proper lady, she was made to memorize all the great families of Sallis, their titles and accomplishments. The Magelakis held the fealty of Mneossome, the furthest and paltriest province of the land. That in and of itself would only have been a boon. They also were, however, infamously pious.
âYou⌠you want me to be a priestwife?â The question tumbled out of her before she could catch herself.
âHigh priestess,â Mama said slowly. âAt the head of your own temple! Itâs a great honor!â
Papa added, âNot to mention youâll travel all the way across Sallis! Youâll see more of it than some of your sisters did.â
âAnd then Iâll never be allowed to leave,â Thessa replied. âIâll spend every single day leading prayers, and singing the same hymns until I die.â
If Mama had looked like sheâd been cast of bronze before, she now was a statue outright. Not an inch of her moved, especially not her eyes, as she spoke. âHow can you only think of yourself? Your father has had to spend so much of his time finding you a husband. Youâre a fourth child, and youâre almost twenty.â She paused to recover from the thought. âNone of your sisters put on such an act.â
âThatâs because they all got proper husbands.â Thessa withstood her motherâs stare. âEmera got a war hero, who took her all the way to Midorea in their first year. Lysia got a shipâs captain, who sails her across the Southern Straits every summer. Even Kalla got to see New Montres, at least!â
âThessalona,â Papa said, âsurely, you donât blame me because the noblemen of Sallis havenât come to court you?â
âOf course she shouldnât,â Mama answered in Thessaâs stead, and rested her hand on her husbandâs shoulder. âYouâve done more than enough. If she had applied herself better, she could have earned the admiration she thinks sheâs owed.â
âIâve done just as well as my sisters,â Thessa said. âI learned to sing, dance, and read poetry, and be courteous as well as they did. Iâm no worse than any of them, and I donât want to spend the rest of my life in some cloister. Iâd rather marry a spice merchant.â
Mamaâs wine cup rang on the marble of the floor, and at once the bronze statue came alive. She clasped her stomach with one hand and held her head with the other, all the while wailing desperately. âI have raised an ungrateful daughter!â
Papa cradled her in his arms the way he never did with his daughter, and gently rocked her back and forth. âHush now, dear. Youâve done nothing of the sort.â
Thessa agreed wholeheartedly. You havenât raised any daughter at all.
âOur daughter isnât ungrateful,â Papa went on, turning to look at her. âIsnât that right, Thessa? You appreciate all that your mother and father have done to provide for you.â
He spoke with the same smile as ever. But Thessa wasnât ready to give up yet. If she didnât try everything she could to stop this, she would only have herself to blame when she was carted off to Mneossome the next morning. Nothing was too dear. Not even her pride.
âPapa, I beg you.â Her throat was so tight she could hardly press the words out. âDonât make me do this. Iâll do better, I swear. Iâll apply myself, like Mama said. I can wait one more year, or two, or as long as it takes. There must be someone else in Sallis who will marry me.â
Her father shook his head. âNow youâre just not talking sense. If I go back on such a promise on a whim, my honor will forever be besmirched. I know youâre a good girl, Thessa. You canât possibly want that.â
With that, he turned back to his wife, whoâd been shaking the whole time as though she was having the fits. Thessa had lost. She rose from the table and left the dining hall. Mamaâs cries stopped before she even passed the threshold.
Outside, she hiked up her dress to cross the courtyard. She kept it up when she reached the corridor to the west wing, and hurried her steps. With each corner she turned, she walked faster and faster, until she was running.
The wind whipped at Thessaâs hair and hammered her eyes, as she dug her heels into Raindropâs side once more. The filly was already at full speed, but Thessa spurred her on nonetheless. The Kalou estate was far behind them, with the manor and its many gardens that had been her home for two decades. The empty plains of the Sallician countryside stretched into the night around them. It felt as if the world had ceased to exist. Thessa wished it had.
She was being foolish. Foolish, reckless and desperate. But if she didnât try everything she could, sheâd only have herself to blame.
Her heart beat in time with the battering of Raindropâs hooves on the ground, as mile after mile flew by. Only when they reached the edge of the woods did she slow down, and pause to look up. It was a perfectly clear sky, with a bright full moon to light their way. Recalling everything she learned from Papaâs roadbooks, Thessa quickly found the stars that pointed north. Using that, she turned east, and led Raindrop into the forest.
Sheâd prepared for this trip for years. She imagined taking it with her husband, but that was no longer a possibility. Papa had made that clear.
A few dozen miles east of the Kalou estate lay the town of Akramos, with a railway station. She could board a steam train up north to Ardonne, all the way to the capital New Montres. From there, she could go anywhere she wanted.
Why wouldnât she? She had no future in Sallis. Even if Papa miraculously changed his mind, her prospects of another husband only waned each year. She would grow old under her parentsâ roof, her youth and her mind slowly slipping away from her. She might as well take her chances.
Raindrop snorted and shook her head. They were deep in the woods by now, where the trees grew tall and wild. Through the thousands of branches above, the moon splintered its silver light around her. It was almost quite serene. Thessa tried to savor it, but the filly kept fussing around under her.
âWhatâs the matter with you?â she whispered. âItâs just a forest. Youâve been in one before.â
As if to answer, Raindrop reared and flailed wildly, almost launching Thessa out of the saddle. She thought to climb off and take the lead on foot. The branches kept brushing against her face anyway. She batted yet another one aside, and that was when the eyes appeared.
Small, burning spots of amber in the darkness, glowing malevolently in what little moonlight made it through the leaves. Soon, there were two more, and yet more, out of nowhere. Growls circled all around in a menacing chorus.
No one had told Thessa there were wolves in the forest. No one had told her anything.
The beasts stood motionless. Raindrop trotted nervously in place, turning back and forth, as both of them frantically looked for an escape route. There was none. Blinking through her tears, Thessa peered into the darkness. By now, she wasnât even sure which way theyâd come from.
Two pairs of eyes drew to the side, almost as if to open a path, but that hope died as fast as it came. Stepping forward before them was the biggest, most monstrous wolf Thessa had ever seen: as black as the forest around it, and twice as large as the ones among Papaâs trophies.
Thessa leaned forward and wrapped both arms around Raindropâs neck. The sudden grasp at her throat sent the filly reeling back once more, neighing louder than ever.
She turned on the spot and shot forward, leaping over the wolves ahead. Thessa screamed and tightened her grip. Two of the beasts pulled out of the way, but everything afterward was a blur. Thessa buried her face in a tangled nest of the fillyâs mane and her own black locks. The wolves howled and panted around them. Every so often, their teeth snapped on one side or the other, while Raindrop twitched so sharply that Thessa barely held on.
A deep, bone-chilling growl roared like a saw digging into wood. The monster was catching up to them. Raindrop leapt over trunks and zig-zagged between trees, but the growl continued. Then for a heartbeat, the wolves went quiet, as if they had all fallen behind at lastâ
Raindrop cried out as two jaws locked on each of her front legs. She bucked and flung Thessa forward; her grip was hopelessly lost now. A searing hot pain shot into her calf. She barely caught a glimpse of the monster sinking its fangs into her flesh, before the world turned upside-down, and she fell headfirst into nothing.
A Bad Place to Be a Hero is a fantasy mystery with a set of morally gray characters that will pull you in. The worldbuilding is extremely well done, so much so that it made me hope for future stories set in the same world at least, if not following the same characters. Even though the story primarily takes place in one city, you get a taste of many cultures and histories. The city itself is rather diverse, and each main character has a different country of origin. The author makes them distinct, likable but flawed characters and writes in multiple POVs, which really highlights their difference in judgment, perception, reasoning, history, and motivations. One characterâs POV might reveal flaws lurking just beneath the traits you loved in another character.
Westinger approaches worldbuilding in a way I prefer: information and topics coming up naturally, with knowledge of the world being given through context. I realize it must be rather difficult to find this balance between info-dumping or being overly descriptive and leaving too many unanswered questions or only a vague understanding. Particularly when your world is rather complex, and there are many elements playing a factor in your story. Westinger has a compelling and complex world and story, but is able to keep this balance perfectly.Â
This story seemed to pull on a few crime fiction themes, but it reminded me most of hardboiled fiction in a fantasy world. Itâs dark and gritty, and set in a major city (though with limited magical technology). The main characters might not be strictly âgoodâ themselves, but they have to expose even darker secrets of the city. I thoroughly enjoyed the way both the fantasy and the mystery were written!
Westinger was also effective with character development. We're given information again in a natural, well-balanced way and we see just enough of their motivations, inner obstacles, and personal growth. There's a great balance of conflict between characters and tension over the looming primary conflict, too.
If you think a mystery fantasy with a gritty feel sounds like it ticks a lot of your boxes, I think you'll love this!