Spense might have saved his country of Telridge and won the heart of the faerie princess. But he doesnât feel like a heroânot while Dewy is stuck in the Winter Lands, all because of a bargain she made on his behalf.
After months of fruitless research, Spense abandons the libraries of Telridge and turns to the Faerie Oracles to seek a solution.
Meanwhile, Dewy is no damsel in distress. She is on a journey of her own, diving deeper into her magic, and finding alliances in the most unexpected of places.
As they each seek the Winter Heir, they face unsettling truths about themselves, their world, and the steep costs of magic.
Spense might have saved his country of Telridge and won the heart of the faerie princess. But he doesnât feel like a heroânot while Dewy is stuck in the Winter Lands, all because of a bargain she made on his behalf.
After months of fruitless research, Spense abandons the libraries of Telridge and turns to the Faerie Oracles to seek a solution.
Meanwhile, Dewy is no damsel in distress. She is on a journey of her own, diving deeper into her magic, and finding alliances in the most unexpected of places.
As they each seek the Winter Heir, they face unsettling truths about themselves, their world, and the steep costs of magic.
Winter had arrived in the kingdom of Telridge, bending all who dwelled there to its capricious whim. And as Spense Ferrous well knew, winter was an unforgiving sovereign.
During the dark season, it was as if King Lumine himself stretched his icy hand from his throne deep in the White Rock Mountains all the way to the human kingdoms, pummeling the leaded windows of The Academy library with insistent sleet. Tap-tapping his impatience. His displeasure.
Spense scowled at the darkening sky, and defiantly returned to his studies in The Academyâs oldest tower. He placed his trust in the human-built stone walls that protected the collection of ancient wisdom from the Winter Kingâs sneak-thief wind and angry blizzard. Spense was thankful that Dean Stone had granted him permission to use the library, though he was still too young to become a proper student. He wouldnât waste this opportunity, no matter how tired or numb he became.
So he uncurled his chilled fingers and turned the next page and the next, poring over stacks of moldering books. The one in front of him smelled of overripe orange, as if a doddering scholar had spilled his marmalade on its pages and left it there to infuse the words with wise, pungent knowledge. So far, heâd experienced plenty of the aroma, but none of the wisdom.
He was sure it was there, the knowledge to appease King Lumine, to break his bargain, and free Dewy. Sheâd once been Lady Dew Drop, Fae royalty of the Summer faeries, not a prisoner of the Winter Court. She could return to her proper place if Spense found the answer to King Lumineâs problem, if he found the missing Heir.
But it had been months, and he was no closer than when he started. All the while, Dewy endured amongst the Winter Fae. He knew the creeping chill of that court, the frosty despair that had ensnared his vulnerable human heart in the few days heâd been a guest in The Silver Horn. Would the bloom of Summer submitâas all things mustâand shrivel in the face of the cold?
Spense squeezed his eyes shut, but his thoughts were too persistent, and his temples throbbed. He laid his head on the book, closed his eyes and remembered Dewyâs sun-kissed face the last time heâd seen her. It was the day heâd been none-too-gently thrown out of the Winter Court. Face first in the snow. The day heâd started on this impossible search.
He groaned, pushed back from the table and slammed the useless book closed. Bits of dust flew off along with something crusty and orange. Three tables down, two Academy students halted their whispered conversation, grabbed their own books, and scurried away.
This was the reaction he was getting around the castle these days. Sidelong glances, and awed, skittish retreats. Once, before heâd met Dewy, heâd been the easily ignored, illegitimate son of King Ferrous and Cait the Head Cook. Now, he was the âyoung mage who had saved the kingdom.â
Only it was a lie. It was Dewy who had done the saving, and she was paying the price.
Footsteps echoed along the lanes of The Academy library. Heavy, precise, military footsteps, followed by a rumbling baritone.
âLittle brother? Are you in here?â
Spense sighed. âHere. Back wall.â
âThere you are!â Dirk planted himself at the end of
the row. âStill at it? Sweet Spring! When was the last time you took a break?â
Spense gestured futilely at the text in front of him and the piles beyond it. âI canât.â
âYes, you can.â Dirk clamped two strong hands around Spenseâs arms and removed him from his slumped position. He looked him in the eye. âAnd you should. Youâre not going to get anywhere if youâre too exhausted to think. All this studying makes a man addled. And I had thought weâd cured you of that. Have you even eaten today?â
Spense shrugged. âIt doesnât matter. Think about where Dewy is.â
Dirk folded his arms over his broad chest. âSheâs among the faeries, Spense. Her own kind.â
Spense shook his head. âYou donât understand...â
âSheâs a prisoner, Spense. I know sheâs not lounging on one of the Brecken Isles. But sheâs not dying.â
âYou canât know that.â
Dirk frowned, wrinkling his chin, the one physical characteristic he and Spense shared. âNo, but I can make an educated guess. And Iâm guessing that it is in King Lumineâs best interests to keep her alive and you working. How else does he get what he wants?â
Spense mashed his lips together.
âSee? Youâve got no argument.â
âMaybe Iâm just tired and hungry and canât come
up with one.â
âThat is exactly why you need a break. And I
happen to have the perfect opportunity to get you out of this drafty library.â
Dirk was probably right. Not eating. Not sleeping. Days and nights in the library werenât doing any good. Spense rubbed his dry, overworked eyes. He sighed.
âWhat is it?â
âThere happens to be a little...party.â
Spense scowled as he reluctantly rose from the
desk and took a step back from his piles of books. âIâll eat, but Iâm not really in the mood for a party.â
Dirk rotated Spense around and gave him a small shove. âYouâre going. Thereâs this thing called a Solstice. You may have heard of it.â
Spense rolled his eyes. âYes, and it is not for another night.â
âAll the more reason to get started now. Solstice Eve, as it were. Must celebrate properly, and all the pomp of tomorrow night is hardly proper.â Dirk slung his arm over Spenseâs shoulders. âThis is our opportunity to actually enjoy the holiday, to celebrate with actual friends, for drinking ale, not weak wine.â
Spense couldnât imagine enjoying any of the Solstice this year, but he agreed with Dirk about the official royal celebrations. Even on a good year, the ceremonial aspects tended to sour the holiday. But Dirk was Crown Prince and Commander of the Knights. He had responsibilities Spense had never had to worry about. All eyes would be on his brotherâmany of them eligible young ladies and their ambitious parents. The least he could do was join Dirk on his one night off. And maybe he needed it, too. He could always return tomorrow with fresh eyes.
âSo, debauchery?â Spense asked.
Dirk lifted a corner of his mouth. âWicked Winter, yes.â He squeezed Spenseâs neck tighter. âMaybe even for you!â
âHmm...â Spense grumbled.
âCome down. Drink with my Knights. By some miracle, youâve earned their respect.â
âFine.â
Spense had earned the Knightsâ respect and his brotherâs friendship. And those werenât things to squander. A year before, it would have been unheard of for Dirk to be seen socializingâin publicâwith his younger, bookish, skinny half-sibling. But that was before. Before the attacks from Verden and the Winter faeries. Before theyâd worked togetherâas brothersâ to defend their kingdom. And before Dewy had sacrificed everything to save him and the people of Telridge, whether they knew the full story or not.
âGive me a few more minutes, just to get these books put away, and Iâll be right behind you. Grey Goats Tavern?â
âWhere else?â Dirk clapped him on the shoulder. âHurry up. If youâre not there in fifteen minutes, I am sending Lady Xendra up to fetch you, and you know how pissy she gets when you interrupt her drinking.â
With a loud clap, Spense closed the book he held, sending up a puff of dust. He choked and nodded, even as his eyes watered. He had no interest in getting on the Knightsâ bad side. No one with any sense would. As Dirk left the library, Spense pivoted to the table heâd occupied for the last several hours and stacked his books. It took three trips to deliver all of them to The Academy libraryâs return desk. The clerk had long since left.
A thin green book he didnât remember requesting was on top of the last pile. He lifted the volume and turned the cover to see the title. Truth Tellers was lightly embossed on the front. Spense flipped the worn pages. Each section described the four Oracles of the Fae, one for each season. He paused on an illustration of Winterâs Oracle.
His heart rate picked up as he scanned the chapter. He had spent hours poring over chronologies and books of human magic, trying to determine a way to find Lumineâs Heir and release Dewy. But maybe heâd been going about it all wrong. Why had he never considered omens? The gift of Sight was his fatherâs skill, not his, but he should have thought of it. And wouldnât a Fae Oracle be stronger than even his skilled father? At least for finding a lost Fae?
Spense snapped the book shut and raced out of the library.
The Winter Heir is the second installment in J. A. Nielsenâs Fractured Kingdoms series. The first book, titled The Claiming, revolves around a botched spell that wreaks havoc on already strained Human-Fae relations. Though the aftermath of this fiasco got resolved in book one, The Winter Heir follows the same characters as they try to fix the greater underlying problem.
Something happened years ago that drove a wedge between the human kingdom of Telridge and the faerie realm of Winter. Letâs just say that grief can push both races to behave in a veryâwell, humanâmanner. And that sort of thing tends to have consequences. The stakes have grown too high to be ignored, prompting the Winter King to wield his considerable power in a desperate ploy for help. Thanks to his clever manipulations, itâs up to bastard prince Spense and Lady Dew Drop, fae princess and Heir of Summer, to locate the Winter Heir before the fraying magic of Winter tears the land itself apart.
Nielsen does an excellent job of interweaving references to the backstory of Book Oneâso much so that a reader could probably jump right into Book Two and fully grasp the context, though I donât recommend it. Best to get acquainted with the cast in their first appearance, because what makes The Winter Heir even better than its predecessor is the way the characters change and grow.Â
While the first book offered a lovely, clean fantasy story with some interesting twists on old tropes, the second pushes the tale to another level, forcing each character to draw on inner merits they didnât realize they possessed. One of the best aspects of The Claiming was the delightfully awkward relationships among Lord Ferrous, his older son Crown Prince Dirk, and illegitimate afterthought Spense. This time around it is gratifying to see Dirk and Spense develop both individually and as brothers. And Dewy comes into new strength, transforming from a delicate summer blossom into a hardy perennial fit to thrive in any climate.
When reading a digital book, one does not always notice the dwindling of remaining pages near the end. Consequently, I was genuinely surprised to reach the conclusion, which felt rushed and incomplete. Heartache might drown out achievement for some of these characters, leaving readers with a poignant sense of the series title, and we definitely need a Book Three.