One Dark Window (The Shepherd King, #1)

by Rachel Gillig

Elspeth.

What the FUCK is this name

Elm was taller and narrower than Ravyn. When I stood, I had to lift my chin to look him in the face. “Pleased to meet you, sire,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m Elspeth Spindle.” A coy smile danced along the edges of Elm’s lips. “Spindle, is it?” he said. “Not Jayne Yarrow?”

I can’t tell who is meant to be the love interest. I hope it’s the prince lololol

The Black Horse made its beholder a master of combat. The Golden Egg granted great wealth. The Prophet offered glimpses of the future. The White Eagle bestowed courage. The Maiden bequeathed great beauty. The Chalice turned liquid into truth serum. The Well gave clear sight to recognize one’s enemies. The Iron Gate offered blissful serenity, no matter the struggle. The Scythe gave its beholder the power to control others. The Mirror granted invisibility.

There must be touch, there must be intention. Tap a Providence Card thrice to command its magic. Tap it thrice more, and its magic will cease. Guard it in your cloak—your house. But be wary. Magic knows no loyalty. Should someone else touch the Card, its magic shall be theirs to command. There must be touch, there must be intention.

I don’t understand how she still has it. Does she have its ability? Or did it do something weird by latching onto her

Plausible reasons are but a shadow at the gallows. The highwayman meets the hangman, one way or another.

So she’s the hangman?

“Which again raises the question—what are we going to tell her family? They’ll need a reason to send her our way.”

I love a good fake marriage trope

Every Solstice and Equinox, he seems to worsen.”

Why let him go to dinner then

Ravyn Yew. Infected.

I bet he was talking about himself when referencing spilling blood earlier

The Captain was statue still. “No. But neither can they be used against me. Such is the nature of my magic. Cards like the Chalice—the Scythe—have no effect on me.”

This is confusing

Twin Alders—are

I bet her aunt has it. Or her mom is still alive and has it. Or her dad has it from the mom

offering, bartered with blood. That’s how the Spirit bargains—always with blood. So the Shepherd King built her this chamber at the edge of the woods, this altar. And here, they bartered.

The nightmare is the king?

I didn’t push it—didn’t ask what had tipped the King’s youngest son over the edge into lawlessness and treason—what had made him betray his own father. There

I thought we knew? His mom dying and his brother being mean

The Prince’s shoulders stiffened. “Why?” I tugged at his sleeve until it slipped off his shoulder. “Trade me masks.”

I thought he didn’t wear a mask

“There once was a girl,” he said, “clever and good, who tarried in shadow in the depths of the wood. There also was a King, a shepherd by his crook, who reigned over magic and wrote the old book. The two were together, so the two were the same…”

Ravyn is the king

Elm leaned forward, quiet a moment too long, his green eyes measuring Ione. “Are you in love with him?” My cousin held his intrusive gaze, measuring him in return. “No.”

Maybe he ends up with her