Arwen Faces a Life Imprisoned In This Excerpt From A Reign of Rose
It’s always bittersweet when the final book in a favorite series arrives. Thrilling, of course, since you get to see a story you’ve followed for multiple books and hundreds of pages reach its end. But also more than a bit sad, since it means you’ll have to say goodbye to characters you’ve grown to care about deeply. Such is the case with Kate Golden’s A Reign of Rose, the final installment of her Sacred Stones trilogy.
The series’ first book, A Dawn of Onyx was one of 2023’s buzziest romantasy titles, and its sequel, A Promise of Peridot, was released earlier this year. Now, Reign of Rose is set to hit arrive in October and will bring this sprawling story of warring kingdoms, magic, and betrayal to a close. The story picks up right after Peridot’s cliffhanger ending, and follows Kane and Arwen as they battle to save the world—and one another.
Here’s how the publisher describes the story.
Kane Ravenwood, King of Onyx Kingdom, would go to the ends of the continent for Arwen Valondale, but what if she’s beyond even that? Broken in ways he never imagined he could be, Kane must find a way to fulfill the prophecy and kill his father, Fae King Lazarus. After what he’s endured, Kane is willing to save Evendell by whatever means necessary – even if that spells his own death.
Little does Kane know, he’s not the only one desperate for revenge. Arwen is no longer afraid to fight – no sacrifice is too great, no enemy too daunting. Now, nothing will stop her from destroying Lazarus, because she knows if she falls, both realms will be doomed forever.
With the help of new allies and old friends, Kane and Arwen will see this battle through to the end. They must save the world – but can they also save each other?
Reign of Rose won’t hit shelves until October 8, but we’ve got a first look at this highly anticipated final installment for you right now.
Once Octavia had purged every ounce of lighte from my veins, Wyn laid me across the deceivingly sumptuous bed, depleted and still unable to speak. My arms collapsed across my body and I crumpled myself into a ball. I didn’t care who saw.
And maybe it was that notion exactly—that acceptance, that acquiescence to her power—but as Octavia strolled from the room, she offered me a serpentine grin and a flick of her wrist. With my next cough I found my voice had returned.
The kingsguards had walked in just as she’d left. Their armor reminded me of the exoskeleton of a rare silver crustacean—no leather or steel in sight, but a shinier, scalier alloy rippling over their joints. The helmets so skin-smooth it was as if their skulls had been dipped in the stuff. Only a sheer red visor covered their faces, and I had the errant thought that if I were ever in a position to fight one of these men, it would be the only entry point for my blade. I was sure no man-made weapon could penetrate whatever their breastplates and greaves were made of.
Maybe the Blade of the Sun could have. My blade, long gone now.
The muscled guards carried weighty barrels of my lighte from the room, which produced a peculiar shame deep in my stomach. I tipped my head toward the ceiling and that floating, alabaster-crusted chandelier.
When I heard the doors slam behind them, I finally allowed myself to sit up, my legs tangled in layers upon layers of gentle petticoats.
My two shadows had lingered behind as always. Maddox, with his cold beady eyes, carved jaw, and cropped straw hair stood ramrod straight by my door, same disturbing nasal tune floating absently from his nose. Wyn had shuffled to the washroom and was just now returning with a cold compress for my forehead. His knee was worse today, since I’d kicked it.
I turned my face from his offer. “I don’t know why you bother.” My throat was hoarse from Octavia’s spell.
“I don’t know why you fight it every time,” he said, dabbing the cool rag across my head anyway, the damp fabric soothing my clammy temples.
It was a strange order Lazarus had given my two guards all those weeks ago: keep me here, in this mighty looming tower, high above the rest of the palace—even farther above Lumera’s walled capital city of Solaris, which I knew I was held within but hadn’t seen any of, aside from the staggering view from my one window. Even at the expense of my health and theirs, as I learned in my first few weeks here, when I’d nearly scratched Maddox’s eyes out trying to escape and he’d punched me so hard in the jaw it had taken a week for my face to regain its shape.
And yet, also, serve me. Make me comfortable, ply me with quince tarts and juniper perfume and delicate fans of osprey feathers at the tail end of summer. Light those stifling, revoltingly sweet sandalwood candles each day. So long as I never left the suite, make sure I was pleased. Entertain me with repetitive card games and fruit wine and stacks and stacks of books rife with the same propaganda extolling the commanding and righteous Fae King Lazarus Ravenwood. A pinnacle of heroism, fairness, and vigor. As beloved as he is feared. What a load of shit.
A bound captive and honored guest. The prisoner who was soon to be queen consort.
Wyn was better at doting than his brutal counterpart. They might have made a good team, if only they didn’t despise one another almost as much as I despised them both.
Wyn dotted the cloth along my collarbone with care. I would have shoved him off had I had a scrap of strength left. To his credit, Wyn never allowed his caretaking to grow inappropriate. Or, he was as appropriate as one could be when imprisoning someone and allowing them to be drained of their bodily fluids against their will.
Even as Wyn kept his hands to himself . . . I still fought him ferociously. And Octavia, too, even knowing I’d never break her torment. Because stopping—stopping would mean I’d given up. And I refused to lose hope that one day, even if it was centuries from now, I might know what it felt like to be free.
And when doubt crept in as it had so viciously today, I thought of Kane’s crooked smile. When I screeched so loud they plugged their ears, or bit so hard I drew blood, his words were the ones that rang through my mind like a temple bell. That’s my vicious bird. Such claws. Such violent, gorgeous claws.
I’d only resorted to actually hearing him a few weeks ago. Or, what I thought must’ve been a few weeks ago. I’d lost all sense of time here, holed up in this marble-floored, scarlet and brocade suite. Drained of lighte, lonely beyond fathoming, pale from lack of sun—sleeping and scowling in a constant, dizzying rotation . . . Kane’s imagined voice in my head was all I had left.
My suite door creaked open, and with it my blood froze in my veins. Maddox poked half his head outside to converse with someone, and I held my breath.
A minute ticked by.
Another.
But in the end, he only nodded and closed the heavy anthracite doors once more.
I didn’t allow myself to ask what was coming next.
“She’s arrived a few days early,” Maddox snipped to Wyn. “His Majesty requires more guards. Stay with her while I aid them?”
“Of course,” Wyn said.
But Maddox only scowled at him. “Without fucking anything up?”
Wyn gave a single resolute nod, no eye roll in sight, which would have been hard for me, personally.
The thickheaded guard deserted the ornate doors and the lock clicked outside as it did each night.
My strength had finally returned a bit—likely from the spike of adrenaline that came with the interruption—and I snatched the compress from Wyn’s hands. Patting it along my arms and down to where my veins were wrapped in bandages, I willed my voice to be casual. “Who arrived early?”
Wyn limped, favoring his right leg, over to the carnelian curtains. Stitched with that gold and ebony detailing, he drew them open and allowed hazy afternoon light to slip in and glimmer over his warm-hued bronze skin and pulled-back dark curls.
With some difficulty, I pulled myself to sit on the edge of the deep, lush bed. “Early for what?” I pressed, still unanswered.
Wyn only gazed out the high windowpanes, clearly trying to spy on whoever had arrived.
A Reign of Rose will be released on October 8, but you can pre-order it right now.
Lacy Baugher Milas is the Books Editor at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter @LacyMB