Be warned of a sorceress scorned.
When eighteen-year-old Aaira Devoni is accidentally caught in the middle of a vendetta unrelated to her, Aairaâa simple seamstressâfinds herself cast into an alternate reality by a sorceress who was once banished by the king for possessing magic.
With the help of the dashing prince Kerat Knight, who suffered the same fate, and a brooding sorcerer, they must find a way home. They learn of Moonscript, an ancient tome belonging to the sorceress that contains the history of magic and which may have the spell to take them home. However, it also tells of the gods and goddesses who once walked the land.
Gods who have woken once more; gods who may now control the very threads of Aairaâs fate.
She will do whatever it takes to get homeâbut not before discovering her own magic, a shadow magic once used to control ill-fated half-gods. She must face the consequences of the curse that banished magic a thousand years ago while facing a future where magic has appeared once more. If thereâs one thing sheâs learned, it is that magic has returned with a vengeance and is unforgiving.
Be warned of a sorceress scorned.
When eighteen-year-old Aaira Devoni is accidentally caught in the middle of a vendetta unrelated to her, Aairaâa simple seamstressâfinds herself cast into an alternate reality by a sorceress who was once banished by the king for possessing magic.
With the help of the dashing prince Kerat Knight, who suffered the same fate, and a brooding sorcerer, they must find a way home. They learn of Moonscript, an ancient tome belonging to the sorceress that contains the history of magic and which may have the spell to take them home. However, it also tells of the gods and goddesses who once walked the land.
Gods who have woken once more; gods who may now control the very threads of Aairaâs fate.
She will do whatever it takes to get homeâbut not before discovering her own magic, a shadow magic once used to control ill-fated half-gods. She must face the consequences of the curse that banished magic a thousand years ago while facing a future where magic has appeared once more. If thereâs one thing sheâs learned, it is that magic has returned with a vengeance and is unforgiving.
She hadnât known what to expect.
Aaira Devoni eyed the nobles with skepticism, dancing away in their precise, rehearsed steps, their gowns twisting and twirling with each movement. She pushed herself against the wall as people rushed past her, anxious to get on the dance floor and oblivious to Aairaâs presence. She didnât mind. She took a small bite of a chocolate strawberry she had snagged earlier and made way for the buffet table.
The night had promised to be a fantastical celebration for the kingâs birthday, full of splendor, riches, and an obscene display of wealth. Despite this, it was overshadowed by a rumor that the young and handsome red-headed prince was to announce a betrothed that very night. Women had flocked to this particular ball in hopes and dreams of being picked, dressed in their gowns of frills and lace. It didnât matter he was a prince who had dallied with too many petticoats and had broken several hearts along the way. He was to choose a wife, and whoever married him would have countless riches and joy as his Queen.
It was the social event of the year.
If one didnât know her, one could say Aaira was delighted and honored to be invited to such an event. They could also say she enjoyed watching the nobles dance in rhythmic movements, dressed in the finest gowns the kingdom had ever seen. Elaborate gowns she had helped design and create. As she passed by the nobles, her eyes soaking in the shimmering silk, lace, and intricate corsets, she realized all her expectations had been broken, her childhood dream of an enchanting ball shattered. It was supposed to be exhilarating to see her gowns brought to life.
She found, in fact, she did not enjoy watching the nobles destroy her work.
This was the only night her dresses would ever be displayed. After tonight, the nobles would toss their gowns like they were sullied and unusable and come rushing for a brand new one. Not that Aaira didnât mind creating more; she was a seamstress for Honey Silk, where she and few other women spent their hours sewing away. It was merely the fact her beautiful dresses wouldnât live past one night. One woman, in particular, had stained the front of her dress with red wine, the pink fabric now a dark blood red, and had run off, laughter from the crowds following her leave. Aaira had felt pity for her, as she left in tears due to the teasing and laughter of the nobles, but also pitied the dress. It was a gown Aaira had spent hours on, sewing little pearls into the corset. Now it was ruined.
She waited patiently on the sidelines at the buffet table, as the women twirled with each step, their gowns shimmering in the light. Aaira was envious how aloof the nobles were. They had not a care in the world. They could afford to ruin their dresses.
Aaira, on the other hand, had all the cares. She was of lower status, simpler means, and not even meant to be at the ball.
This was not her daily life. Sabine, her noble and rich friend, had invited her as a thank you for making her dress. For the first time, Aaira was attending the richest and most sought out party.
 A small cluster of older women gathered near her, gossiping away, waving their fans as they talked in exaggerated motions. The women were speaking loudly to be heard over the music and their comments harsh about some of the womenâs lack of modesty with their low-cut dresses. Aaira ignored their old-fashioned comments. She piled a plate full of chocolate-covered strawberries, her favorite treat. Of course, the king would import all types of food for his birthday, even out-of-season strawberries. Sheâd had chocolate before as a rare treat too, but not to this extent. Aaira would take full advantage of the buffet table and call it a night soon after.
Few guests approached her as she stood to the side. She wasnât known among the nobles, and the few who did recognize her knew she was not noble-born. They knew she lived in a tiny house with her three brothers and parents on the other side of the river. Word had spread about her, like good gossip does, and she was left mainly alone.
 Sabine found her when she was on her fifth strawberry.
âCareful,â Sabine said with a smirk. She grabbed a cloth napkin and dabbed at Aairaâs lips. âYou have chocolate on your face.â
Aaira rolled her eyes. âItâs not like anyone is going to care.â
âItâs the small things people notice. Next, everyone will be talking about how you ate like a pig and theyâll make a laughingstock of you.â Sabine was blunt with her words, always had been. She nibbled at one chocolate strawberry, careful not to tarnish her dark red painted lips.
Sabine had warned Aaira about the nobles love for gossip and the cruelty of it, especially when one did not belong. It made Sabine overly protective of Aaira, and it made her appreciate her friend even more. Sabine was only being honest with her. In another setting, Sabine would be eating the same amount as Aaira and laughing at the nobles, their pettiness, and aloofness. Here, with Sabineâs parents watching and everyoneâs eyes on each other, she played it safe.
Somehow Sabine had convinced her parents to invite Aaira. But here Aaira was, watching her work get destroyed and forgotten.
She inspected the detail on Sabineâs dress; a work of art she had created for Sabine. The floor-length gown was a light, twinkling pink, which complimented Sabineâs dark skin and amber eyes. A cinched waist flaunted her curves. Aaira was particularly proud of the petals sewn into the bustle, which trailed down to the floor-length hem. Sabine had perfected her look with flawless makeup and hair. Tiny gems sparkled from her braids.
Sabine was absolutely gorgeous.
Next to her, Aairaâs appearance felt lackluster. She hadnât done anything with her black hair, only brushing it thoroughly. Sabine had attempted to pretty up Aairaâs face with kohl around her eyes and a dark pink lip stain, but Aaira only let her do so much. She didnât want to stand out, especially not here.
Had she been at home with a group of young adults like her of the same statusâsheâd been joining them in dancing and conversation.
The music picked up as the nobles gathered once more, their laughter echoing throughout the wide ballroom. Small tufts of cold wind seeped through the propped open windows, helping offset the stuffiness of the room. Aaira went to one of the tall windows and peered out. She smiled at the small snowflakes falling from the sky. Back home, higher in the mountains, theyâd been dealing with an onslaught of snow. The accumulation was less in the main kingdom of Logithia, where she was currently staying with Sabine. While she had dealt with snowy winters all her life and typically didnât mind it, it felt like a tiny blessing to have a break from the piles of snow.
âLook! There he is,â Sabine said, gesturing toward her beau who she had been seeing since early summer. A few years older than Sabine and a bit shy, he was her every opposite when it came to personality, yet it seemed to work to their benefit. Once he caught sight of Sabine, he smiled from ear to ear and made his way over.
Aaira nudged Sabine with her elbow. âThat man is enamored with you, I swear.â
âYou think so? Isnât Lyle the greatest?â Sabine grinned at her and patted her skirts to flush out any wrinkles.
Lyle, tall and charming with boyish good looks with brown curly locks of hair, held out his hand to Sabine once he reached the two of them. âCare to dance?â he asked Sabine.
âPlease,â Sabine replied and accepted his arm. âIâll be back to find you a dance partner later, Aaira!â
 âYou really donât have to,â Aaira started to say, but Sabine and Lyle were swept away into the depths of the ballroom. Aaira wandered back over to the buffet tables where a fresh plate of chocolate strawberries had been set out. She grabbed a few, a lemon chiffon pastry, and a glass of sweet white wine.
As she sat down at one of the far tables, a commotion erupted on the dance floor. Swarms of ladiesâand a few menâsurrounded the Prince. Aaira watched, amused, as the redheaded Prince Kerat wandered around, a tall brunette on his arm. She recognized the brunette, Elyzbeth Nie, a spoiled noble who had changed her dress last minute. Aaira had lost sleep over the beautiful blue silk dress, cut and made to accentuate Elyzbethâs generous bosom. Aaira had made sure to structure and reinforce the bodice to ensure movement wouldnât risk slippage and embarrassment. A part of her wish she hadnât. Elyzbeth was a nasty sort of creature, and dying of embarrassment might do her some good.
The lemon pastry melted on her tongue. She kept her eyes on Prince Kerat as she chewed. She had seen him a few times before when he had stayed in her hometown of Riverton. With his bright red hair, a dash of freckles, and a strong jawline, he stood out from the crowd. There was always a smile on his face. His hair was swept back and curled about his ears. Aaira could see the appeal of him, but he wasnât the reason she was here at the dance. She hadnât cared about the rumor he was to choose a wife that night.
He looked up and their eyes locked. The smile on his face faded for a split moment and he tilted his head as if he were studying her. His lips curved back into a curious grin, and Aaira took another bite of her pastry, sure he was looking at someone past her.
But no, as he arrived with his entourage, surrounding the table she was sitting at, he put his hands on his hips and stared down at her. âI donât recognize you,â he said playfully.
Elyzbeth puffed out a pouty lip and leaned over. She whispered into Keratâs ear, loud enough for Aaira to overhear. âSheâs from Riverton, my prince, from the other side of the bridge. Sheâs only here because Sabine invited her.â
Aairaâs temper flared. There was no love between Elyzbeth and Sabine, she knew that. Still, she wished Sabine would come over. She didnât like this attention she was getting.
 âDid she loan you that dress?â Elyzbeth asked.
 âI made it,â Aaira shot back. She had worn a light yellow gown with a corseted waist and long angel sleeves. It was modest in cut and simple in appearance; she hadnât dressed to catch anyoneâs eye. Nevertheless, it was still a beautiful gown, and the fabric had cost her a pretty penny. The only item the dress was lacking was expensive jewels. âJust as I made yours and several others.â
Elyzbeth was still grinning. âPity such talent was wasted on someone like you.â
 âThatâs enough, Elyzbeth,â Kerat cut in. âWhatâs your name?â He was still staring at her, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief.
 âAaira Devoni.â Aaira swallowed the last of the pastry and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She could feel her cheeks turning red from the attention. âCan I help you, Prince Kerat?â
âIâd like a dance.â
Aaira is a dress maker from the village of Riverton, and she's a bit bored watching the wealthy people of the kingdom dance and preen at the King's birthday ball. Nobel women swish around wearing the dresses she made, while sneering at her. When she inadvertently catches Prince Kerat's eye, she finds herself escaping to the garden, where she's met by a seemingly kind old lady, who offers her a drink and some food. Unbeknownst to Aaira though, this is not a kindly old lady, this is a scorned woman who has been harbouring a grudge for the past twenty years against the king. Although Aaira has no part of it, she's used as bait to lure the prince to the sorceress, so that she can put her revenge into place.
Although I enjoyed the beginning of A Thread of Shadows, I got lost around the half way mark. The story veered off it's track, and a whole new plot line emerged. The main villain who had been the protagonist for everything that had happened seemed to disappear into the ether of the new plot, and her final appearance was somewhat underwhelming. The quest that Aaira, Kerat and their brooding companion, Jax, originally seemed set to complete also faded into the background, with barely a mention after a certain point. The Moonscript - the language of the gods and the book that they were hunting, just sort of seemed to be forgotten about once a certain character was introduced.
While Addington did leave breadcrumbs throughout A Thread of Shadows about the characters who would be introduced later on and who would be significant in the ending scenes, they were still somewhat confusing with their relationship to the world that Aaira and Kerat originated from. I would have like to known Cricket's relationship to Kerat in more detail, as there seemed to be a story there, at least.
All in all, though, I have to say, I did really enjoy A Thread of Shadows. I enjoyed Addington's writing, and little spots of humour dotted around. I especially liked Kerat in owl form, finding his little temper tantrums quite hilarious.
S. A.