In an urban fantasy world, a member of the king’s elite guard, Ros, isn’t here to make friends, she’s here to solve a high profile murder. A mix between Sarah J Maas’ Crescent City and Nalini Singh’s Archangel series, this tale follows a female fae carrying enough secrets to drown a dragon, but she has a job to do. While she’s busy finding a killer, she’s dodging a pissy tiger shifter, blind dates from hell and a nosey IT nerd who happens to like following her every move on his computer screen. With a slow burn that ends with a reward, i.e. spice, snarky dialogue to keep score of, possessive males and laugh out loud disasters, A Shield of Blood & Honor will appeal to readers who love a strong female lead, found family, breadsticks and a splash of romantic comedy amongst a good whodunit.
In an urban fantasy world, a member of the king’s elite guard, Ros, isn’t here to make friends, she’s here to solve a high profile murder. A mix between Sarah J Maas’ Crescent City and Nalini Singh’s Archangel series, this tale follows a female fae carrying enough secrets to drown a dragon, but she has a job to do. While she’s busy finding a killer, she’s dodging a pissy tiger shifter, blind dates from hell and a nosey IT nerd who happens to like following her every move on his computer screen. With a slow burn that ends with a reward, i.e. spice, snarky dialogue to keep score of, possessive males and laugh out loud disasters, A Shield of Blood & Honor will appeal to readers who love a strong female lead, found family, breadsticks and a splash of romantic comedy amongst a good whodunit.
Ros
“Don’t do it,” I said.
“What was that?” My friend Angel said over the car speakers.
I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. “Not you.” I slammed on my brakes as a work vehicle drifted into my lane, forcing traffic to stop all around it.
“Fucking, idiot!” I cursed, wringing the steering wheel like it was someone’s neck.
"Ros!” Angel called out, irritation in her tone. “Are you listening?”
I blew out a breath, mentally counting to ten as I made some sound of acknowledgment. “Mmm…”
The irritated sigh she let out hit me in surround sound as I eased back into the flow of traffic. “Good.” There was tapping on her end, probably her heels on the marble floor of her law office. Probably on her way to the courthouse. “I have to go, but I’ll finish it when I get back to the office later this afternoon.”
I took a right into the industrial part of town, my brain alerting me to something, like I’d missed something crucial to whatever it was she was saying. “Wait, what?”
“Love you!” The click following told me she’d logged off from the conversation.
Shaking my head, I tried to replay the conversation as much as I could recall, but there were too many blank spaces for me to put together what I may have agreed to.
A few ticks over the speed limit, I passed by busy loading docks at the back of warehouses, cut off freight vehicles before they could enter the street, flipping on the siren now and then when they tried to slide out anyway. The chirp and flash of lights had them halting at the curb, clearing the way for me to get to the end of the street, where it turned into a dead-end path. There was still a gravel path that curved around the back of an old building that was once used as office suites. Now, though, it was under construction to become another warehouse.
Which meant it was abandoned for the most part when workers weren’t around.
The crime tape was stretched from a young sapling to a metal fence post. Two enforcer vehicles were parked along the curb, along with an ambulance. Just as I parked behind it, I saw a couple of medics exiting the mouth of the gravel drive to the sidewalk, carrying their equipment with them.
“Here we go,” I muttered to myself as I turned my car off and stepped out. The Autumn air was warm this late in the day, but as soon as the suns would start their descent, I knew the harsh chill it would bring.
Nodding to the lone enforcer standing at the middle of the tape, he tipped his uniform hat to me and lifted the orange tape. “They’re waiting for you back there,” he said as I ducked under.
“Thanks,” I muttered, racking my brain for a name. He didn’t have any rank insignia on his uniform, so I didn’t feel guilty that I didn’t recognize him. Most likely brand new to the force. But there was no denying my identity. It was hard to blend in as a shield. Rats, most of the enforcers called us. One assigned to each department in the country, acting as the king’s voice. Whatever directive he gave, I, and those like me, made sure it was followed. Any defiance whatsoever was reported directly to the Shield General. Who had a daily meeting with King Lorcan himself.
My crown-issued black boots, with fairy steel lining, crunched on the pebbled rock as I quickly strode to the back of the building. Clicks and other booted feet moving about the area met my pointed ears as I reached the clearing of the parking lot. Opposite the alleyway was a chain-link fence that butted against an empty field, a few large pieces of machinery parked against it. On the other side of that, about a half mile away, I could hear the rushing sounds of the freeway that I’d just come from.
Half a dozen bodies lay sprawled out on the ground, blaster holes in their chests, abdomens and heads. Guns still either in their hands or close to where they fell. Pictures were being taken for evidence by a handful of specks. A few other enforcers were talking to a security guard and I rounded the perimeter of the scene to reach them. Recognizing the one with tablet in hand making notes, recording the guard’s statement, I nodded to him as I came to stand with them. “Larsin,” I greeted, then looked to the new guy. “Lieutenant Reign,” I said..
I turned to the guard. “Were you first on scene?”
“Ah, yeah,” the middle-aged male answered. He looked rattled; eyes wide, pupils dilated, face pale, but he started to rattle off the details to me, most likely reiterating what he’d already told the guys beside me. “ I was doing rounds in my Bolt,” he gestured towards the miniature sized utility vehicle sporting the same emblem as the one on the breast of his shirt, orange light flashing on the hood. “Around the building next door.” A light flashed from someone taking photos behind me, catching his attention. Lifting his gaze, he froze at the scene there, caught in a trance.
Quickly, I stepped around him, placing a hand to his shoulder, turning him so that his back was to the bodies.
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Halin Merik,” he supplied. I mentally repeated his name.
“What’s the name of the building and company you were patrolling?” I asked him, trying to keep him focused and away from the nightmares his mind was likely trying to pull him into.
Vaguely, he blinked over my shoulder, dazed for a moment.
“Sir,” I snapped, my voice breaking through his gore filled envisions. It did the trick, his eyes darting to meet mine again. “The names of the building and company.”
“Um,” he rubbed at his brow as he answered, “The Shining Health Clinic, same company name. I’m just supposed to make sure no users come looking for an easy hit, you know?”
I was familiar with the health center, a clinic for the underprivileged in the surrounding district of Akaport, a smaller sect of the city Vlathe. It had had its run ins with users, after a quick fix. Everyone knew there wasn’t enough to sell. There was barely enough to treat the sick who actually needed it. You had to be close to dying in order to get a dose of pain blockers or antibiotics that the king was so stingy with supplying.
“Alright,” I tell the male, “Go on. Tell me what happened while you were doing your patrol?”
“We already got his statement,” said the shield I didn’t recognize, holding up his tablet that likely recorded it all, transcribing it for his report later. Lucky fuck.”
I shot the male a silencing glare, “I’d like to hear him say it.”
Plastering an encouraging smile, I turned my attention back to the witness. “Please, continue.”
“I heard the blasts—two, at first. So, I called it in to my dispatch, then circled in from the connecting alley.” He waved towards the other alleyway that went on to the next street over, where the clinic was. “As I was driving, there were more blasts. When I got here, there was another vehicle leaving out that way.” This time pointing behind me from where I walked in.
“Leaving…”He started to turn to look at the scene again, voice trailing off, I gripped his upper arm to halt him, keeping him in the here and now. “That.”
I nodded, patting him on the same arm now. “Good. That’s all good. Do you remember what vehicle it was? Color, maybe?”
“Black, but it was so far gone, I couldn’t make out type or license.”
I kept my face from showing the disappointment. “Thank you. You did good. Anything else you remember, don’t hesitate to contact me, okay?” I handed him a memory coin with my information. He nodded shakily, pocketing it.
I stepped away from him, aiming for the speck vehicle, kicking the corner behind the back wheel, engaging the mechanism beneath the paneling. With a hiss, a drawer slid out. Lifting one foot and then the other, it sealed my boots. I tapped the car again, this time at waist level, another drawer sliding out, repeating the process for my hands.
All sealed up, I walked over the lead speck who was categorizing evidence by one of the victims. “Doulie,” I said quietly as I stood beside him. “Find anything of note?”
“Hey, Reign.” He looked up at me with familiarity over his protective eyewear. We’d worked dozens of cases together, even before I made lieutenant, even partaking in sharing a drink now and then at the tap house across the street. “Six victims, all killed by blaster wounds to either the head, chest, or abdomen. So far, the only blood we’ve found are theirs.” Leading with his pen, he walked me over to one of the bodies; male, pale skin, blue tattoos with rune tattoos all over his arms and neck. No double had them on the rest of his body. I’d seen those types of marks a time or two. “Mage,” I breathed. Doulie nodded. “Thought you’d find that just as intriguing as I did.”
“Mage marks offered the wearer protection, glamour, and even bursts of strength depending on how old the magic was. As the magic wore off, so did the ink, going from a dark red color to the blue that this guy sported. Combat boots, similar to my standard issue ones, black cargo pants, and a thick synthetic black jacket. A quick glance out to the three others scattered a few feet near him; I noted that they all wore similar clothing. Looking across at the remaining two bodies, the sight of smooth soles caught my attention.
“Send me your report when you got it, yeah?” Doulie bobbed his head, returning to his task as I strode to stand between the two businessmen who now had holes in their chests, dead center. They wore suits, expensive dark ones, but not the same. Looking up at the back of the building that would have been behind them when they were alive and standing there. No scorch marks. Turning, I studied the opposite wall, finding the chipped white paint covered in evidence of the shootout that happened here. I looked down at my feet, taking note of the same marks in the ground there.
“Hey,” I called over to Doulie who looked up. “Be sure to check the BMs on that wall and the ground here.”
He nodded, waving for one of this team to do exactly as I’d said. I walked back to the other shields, who had sent the guard on his way. “I want a hardcopy of the report on my desk before you clock out in the morning,” I told the rookie holding his recording device.
The prick scoffed, the argument on the tip of his tongue but his seasoned partner cut him off by saying, “You got it.”
“Video?” I inquired, lifting a brow.
“Tracking down that one,” the older male pointed behind me. Turning, I scanned the corners of the building, spotting a lone camera barely hanging on for deal life, lens aimed for the expensive machinery there. Doubting we’d get anything useful from it, I turned back to the males. “Do we have owner names of these buildings?”
Rookie looked down at his tablet, swiping a couple times as he searched for that information. After a moment, he read, “This one, he nodded to the one without camera, “is vacant, but owned by Melnach Estates. And that one’s,” the one with the camera, “Is Chadrian Builders.”
“Alright,” I sighed. “Hang out until the specks wrap things up, then go door-to-door, see if anyone’s working late like our guard was, maybe they heard or saw something.” At the older male’s nod, I started to turn..
“Wait,” the Rookie called out. ‘That’s it?” I turned back around, seeing that his partner was shaking his head and stepping away from his idiot protégé, leaving him to flounder on his own after thoroughly stepping in it.
I tilted my head and crossed my arms as I watch the younger male. Though he had pointed ears, like mine, it was the faint striping creeping up from his neck and temples that gave his shifter genes away. Likely tiger, which would explain the haughtiness.
The slim pack on my back shifted slightly, pulling at the skin between my shoulders, but I was immune to it. Wearing it was second nature, a part of my armor. Not wearing it felt alien to me. “It's not my job to sit around and wait for information to reveal itself,” I answered.
As if I’d slapped him, he tucked in his chin, eyes wide with offense. “And ours is?”
“If the boot fits.”
Those stripes darkened as the rest of him grew red with anger. Already taking a step in my direction, fangs lengthening over his lips, he snarled while his partner held him back, one arm curled around his neck from behind. I had to admit, despite being a good ten years older, his reflexes were impeccable. “You don’t want to do this, Tewly,” he hissed in the rookie’s ear.
“Did you hear what she just fucking said?” Tewly growled, eyes boring holes into me while I stood my ground, despite his hand reaching for his holstered blaster. “Coming here uninvited, then spouting off orders like she’s our superior or something.”
“My oh my,” I tsked. “Your partner has a hair trigger.”
“She’s a Shield, damn it,” Larsin reminded Tewly, shaking him in his grip marginally as if that would somehow convince the male to relent.
“I’d listen to your partner,” I advised, turning my back on them, striding off the scene to my vehicle.
I slid into my old Centurion and started the engine, my old comms device beeping and blinking to life. I nodded to the enforcer at the tape, who returned the gesture as I maneuvered the vehicle around and headed for the station. My shift ended two minutes before I got the call about the shitshow behind me and I was dying for a few hours sleep.
It was now close to midnight, making for a long ass day after having to make roll call at Aerospire. Every Friday at the ass crack of dawn, all shields were required to assemble at the palace to present arms to the king. We all knew it was a show, to remind us who we answered to. It was also the perfect time to meet any reprimands or punishments for anyone who failed at their assignment. Which is why I make it a priority to be involved in major crimes. A simple murder wouldn’t really blip on my radar, but when I heard multiple victims...well, I just knew I wasn’t going home any time soon. Twenty minutes later, I was trudging up the stairs to the second floor of my apartment building.
Slapping my fob against the panel on the door, it gave a quiet ding, unlocking for me. As silently as possible, I slipped inside the foyer of the tiny apartment. Angel would no doubt be asleep. As a baker, she’ll be waking in just a few hours. Which is all I’ll be taking for myself before heading back to the station. Turning left, I went down the hall that led directly to my room. Inside, I pulled at the buttons of my uniform jacket, ripping it off and draping it over the small desk chair pushed into the corner by the door as I shut it softly.
Sitting on the chair, I plucked the buckles loose on my boots, pulling them off with tired fingers. My pants came off next, then the small pack on my back. Like taking off my bra, my wings slipped out from the pouch on the inside, slowly unfurling and stretching out. Rolling my shoulders, dropped the thing on the desk. Made to look like a personal evac-pac, with faux pouches and stays in case someone ever saw it under my jacket, it was only within these walls that I took it off.
Deep reds, tans and golds were evidence of my most kept secret. My human mother drilled it into me that if I ever let people see them, they would know what I was and people would treat me differently. I didn’t understand then, but I did now. Especially now that I am a member of the king’s Shields.
Lacking the energy to pull my shirt off, I fell face-first onto my bed, dragging the pillow beneath me. I was asleep in a matter of seconds.
Where the dreams found me, like they always did.
It always started differently; this time, it began with me standing over the dead males in suits, flashes of the scene appearing before me like I was the one taking the pictures.
“They killed each other,” Doulie’s voice spoke to me, but I was the only person there. Well, the only living person, that is.
I looked at the single shots in the males’ chests laying in their expensive clothing.
Turning to look at the other victims, the world shifted around me. Suddenly, I’m standing before the king’s throne in Aerospire Castle. I can’t make out their faces, but I’m surrounded by members of the court. Fae nobles standing in curved rows at my back, generals and shields in formation between myself and the king. And beside him, the Prime Minister of Vlathe. Somehow, in my dreams, he always seemed larger than the king, like my brain had some sort of distorted filter turned on. Even though I knew the real king stood over the prime minister by a few inches in life, but here, where my mind contorted things to mess with me, the king was slightly shorter than the premier. His magnificent wings spread proudly behind him even appeared larger than the gossamer ones of our ruler.
While the king looked down on me from the dais, a tsking to my left had me swinging around, finding the one person I feared the most. Only my thoughts and dreams knew that though, because no way in Dubnos I would ever let this fucker know that.
Carbon copied wings of his father’s, he strode up to stand over me, the sneer making his usually handsome face look ugly with cruelty. “You don’t belong here,” he said, deep voice dripping with disdain and malice.
Instinctually, my shoulders curved in, my wings falling limply with shame at my back, looking like a drowned mayfly.
Growing up, he was always there. Every time something good happened to me, it’s like he knew and would show up to remind me of the space I wasted by existing.
“You’re a weed,” he’d say. Said now, too, a nasty curl of his lip told me he knew how deep he’d cut me and relished in it.
Normally, I didn’t respond to him, just allowed him to get it out of his system so I could move on with my life. But then…
“Go home, Roslyn,” the prime minister would tell me, his features, unlike his son’s, silently begging me not to embarrass him.
“Yes, little fly,” Tèòirn, the heir to the Bryask dukedom, flicks his hand like he would a pest.
Because that’s what I was to them; a pest.
Loud clattering of a pan dropping jerked me away from him. From them. Eyes snapping wide, I didn’t move for a moment, body still stuck in that place in my dream. When it caught up to the rest of me, I slowly sat up, rubbing at the back of my neck.
More sounds of Angel opening and closing the oven, which was on the opposite wall of my headboard, told me it was time to get up. I swung my legs over to sit on the edge of my bed, reaching up to stretch my arms, then slowly stood to touch my toes. After a moment, my back loosened enough to reach behind my ankles, circling my fingers around them, pulling my torso closer to my legs. The stretch eased some of the ache in my neck, which was a precursor to how my day was likely going to be.
Soft melodic whistling pulled a smile up on my full lips, which were dry and sticky.
Great, I probably drooled all over myself.
As I brushed my teeth, I let the water warm in the shower. Spitting and rinsing, I pulled on a cap before climbing in for a quick shower, washing just the parts that mattered. Fifteen minutes later, I was standing in bra and underwear at the vanity mirror, hair brushed out in all its gold wildness around my head, cursing myself for not wrapping it properly before going to sleep. It took me ten of those minutes to brush it out. Parting it down the center, I scooped a generous amount of gel from the jar with my fingers and slathered it onto half of my head. When it was brushed smooth, I began to weave it into a tight plait, repeating the process on the other half. Meticulously placing curls with the wisps around my face. The tails of the braids brushed the base of my wings between my shoulders, sending little shivers down my spine. So rarely exposed, it made even the slightest of touches feel like a caress.
Dressed again in my uniform pants, white shirt, boots and wings tucked into their pack, I started to reach for a clean jacket in my closet, finding none there.
“What the fuck?” I muttered. Poking my head out of my bedroom door, I called out. “Hey, Ang!”
“Yeah?” She called back from the kitche, more sounds of baking tools clanging together as she worked.
“Did my laundry come yesterday?” Internally, I hoped she’d say, “Yes, it’s right here, I forgot to put it in your room.”
“Oh, no. Sorry, there wasn’t a delivery yesterday.”
Closing my eyes, I silently cursed, no words coming with the word I wanted to scream.
It’s alright. It’s fine. I’ll just wear the same one. I pulled yesterday’s jacket up from the chair, giving it a cursory sniff, instantly accosted with the stench that was my own filth after a long shift that started with standing under the blazing suns while waiting for the king to make his appearance.
Ugh, I’ll have to ask Angel to wash it for me. Tucking my mobile into one of the many pockets of my utility pants, I headed out to find something to eat. And to beg my roomie to do me a solid and wash my clothes for me.
Alainna MacPherson’s A Shield of Blood & Honor is the first entry in her Vlathe City Series, a dark‑edged urban fantasy novel that blends mystery, romance, and supernatural intrigue.
The story follows Ros, a woman striving to build a life without compromising her moral compass or revealing the secrets she carries—secrets that, as the book frequently reminds readers, “aren’t just mine to keep.”
When a mass murder suddenly pushes her into the spotlight she has tried to avoid, Ros becomes entangled in a dangerous web of investigations, personal history, and reluctant alliances.
The book’s premise is immediately compelling: Ros is forced to rely on a stranger to help keep her past hidden even as other “unfortunate events” unfold. Her best friend also signs her up for a dating app, injecting an unexpected dose of humor and chaos into an otherwise tense plotline.
As Ros juggles nightly dates, an intense investigator on her tail, and the hunt for a killer, the novel develops a layered narrative that oscillates between action, supernatural politics, and interpersonal drama.
One of the strengths of the novel is its world‑building, which is original, engaging, and full of potential. The highlights of the book are its action‑packed pacing, accessible prose, and compelling supernatural elements, making it entertaining and unpredictable.
The presence of dragons, magical dynamics, and morally gray characters adds texture to the setting, making Vlathe City feel like a gritty, enchanted urban sprawl where danger is constant and loyalties are questionable.
However, the novel is not without its weaknesses. There are issues with continuity and pacing, particularly in the opening chapters. These early chapters occasionally cause readers to pause in confusion rather than stay immersed in the story.
Also, the male lead’s overly controlling behavior early in the book is putting off—selecting Ros's food and drink, tracking her through hacking, and falling into “insta‑love” within minutes. While this behavior tapers off, it remains a divisive aspect of character development that may not appeal to all readers.
Despite these flaws, A Shield of Blood & Honor offers an entertaining, fast‑paced urban fantasy experience. Ros is a relatable protagonist forced to confront uncomfortable truths while navigating danger, romance, and self‑preservation.
The book balances humor and tension, and its supernatural elements add flair without overwhelming the human story at its core.
Overall, MacPherson’s novel will likely appeal to fans of character‑driven urban fantasy with romantic subplots and high‑stakes mystery. While some structural refinements could strengthen the narrative, the book’s imaginative world‑building and emotional tension lay a promising foundation for future installments in the Vlathe City Series.
For readers seeking a fresh urban fantasy with grit, secrets, and a touch of chaos, this debut is worth exploring.