Cover Blurb:
Bravery isn't what you do. It's what you endure.
The duke of the powerful House Hauteclare is the first to die. With my dagger in his back.
He didn’t see it coming. Didn’t anticipate the b*stard daughter who was supposed to die with her mother―on his order. He should have left us with the rest of the Station’s starving, commoner rubbish.
Now there’s nothing left. Just icy-white rage and a need to make House Hauteclare pay. Every d*mn one of them.
Even if it means riding Heavenbreaker―one of the few enormous machines left over from the War―and jousting against the fiercest nobles in the system.
Each win means another one of my enemies dies. And here, in the cold terror of space, the machine and I move as one, intent on destroying each adversary―even if it’s someone I care about. Even if it’s someone I’m falling for.
Only I’m not alone. Not anymore.
Because there’s something in the machine with me. Something horrifying. Something…more.
And it won’t be stopped.
What I loved about this book:
Great worldbuilding. Like Hunger Games and Ender’s Game had a baby. It was a fun sci-fi spin on an old world medieval element: jousting! Very unique.
Characters had great arcs. Synali, Rax, Mirelle, the evil. Well done.
Themes of morality, injustice, love (enemies-to-lovers romantasy), family, and AI.
What I didn’t care for in this book:
Medium amount of swearing. Always a downside for me, as I prefer cleaner reads.
Abundance of unfamiliar sci-fi/battle terminology. I skimmed over some parts because of descriptions with terminology that I’m just not familiar with as I don’t read much sci-fi. It wasn’t bad; the plot didn’t slow down because of it, but I just kind of spaced out a little because I didn’t fully grasp what I was reading.
Nothing really redemptive. It was a heavy read seeped in darkness. This story is well written and extremely gripping, but focused on raw descriptions of violence and trauma.
Trigger warning: Murder, briefly-described death scenes, suicidal ideations. Definitely for older, more mature readers. I wouldn’t recommend to anyone under the age of 17.
Excerpt:
I am riding.
Well, floating, at least. I look down to see sleek, pure-white metal limbs below me—legs—and hands the same color tipped with gold on the fingers. It’s like looking at my own body but made huge and too shiny.
They say God made man in his image, but so, too, did man make the steeds in theirs.
A steed is a gigantic artificial human, armored. It stands upright on thick legs and feet, with a waspish torso flaring out to a broad chest and arms and finally a helmeted head, usually with no visible eye, ear, or mouth holes—holes are structural weaknesses in space. Plasma vents dot the feet, the ankles, the torso, and the back. Every metal edge of a steed is sanded smooth, stylishly yet uselessly, considering aerodynamics are nigh pointless in a vacuum; when nobles want something beautiful, they make it so at all costs.
I slowly move farther into space as a holographic screen springs to life in front of me and hangs there among the stars in high definition, displaying two men in decadent breast coats and headsets. They sit before stands filled to bursting with a seething audience. I recognize them: the court-appointed tourney commentators.
“Welcome, one and all, to the 148th annual Cassiopeia Cup Semifinals!”
The thunderous roar of the crowd nearly drowns them out completely, but it all goes dull in my ears when my eyes find the Station. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen my home from the outside. I know the shape of it—a metal ring lined with honeycomb projection shields the hue of rainbow oil-slick, a spire running through it like a pierced halo, and the many hard-light highways connecting the two like bright-orange spokes in a wheel, trams zipping to and fro on their underbellies.
The gas giant the Station orbits—Esther—hangs swollen and green behind it. Dozens of substations circle her massive bulk—some attached to her many moons, some free-floating, but all of them smaller, all of them slowly terraforming her surface, as they have been since the War’s end four hundred years ago, when the seven Stations were flung from Earth’s orbit and into distant solar systems by the enemy’s final attack.
He’s out there somewhere. Father.
My eyes dart around the Station, the spindle where the nobles live in its center, the thousands of solar panels facing both into Esther—terrene—and out toward the stars—sidereal. There’s no sign of his corpse, no graying hair, no ruffled cuffs, no white cape. I can’t see Father’s body at all, but I slammed the airlock button, watched the evidence of my murder drift into nothing…so where is he? Esther’s gravity wouldn’t pull him down that fast.
Another holoscreen interrupts my view—the commentator’s face is too happy.
“We have a fantastic clash for you today, folks! The storied House Hauteclare gears up at last against the indomitable House Velrayd—two families known for their pride and prowess on the tilt! Who will overcome? Who will fall? Only heaven knows!”
Stars: 3.5 stars. Craft was great! But the content is too dark to really enjoy it and champion it.
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