Being a changeling is hard enough, but Toast was older than most changeling children when her goblin parents stole her back from her human family and returned her to the harsh, bustling world of the Goblin Market, where anything from your fondest dream to your strongest talent can be bought—or sold.
Nearly a decade later, Toast has grudgingly cobbled together a life there as the Market’s guide for mortal visitors. But when the next arrival is her long-lost sister and the ancient beast whose magic the Market depends on disappears under strange circumstances, everything starts falling apart.
Now the Market itself is dying. With the Summer Court of noble fey plotting to claim the weakened Market for themselves, Toast, her friends, and an infuriatingly charming fey knight with an agenda of her own must negotiate their differences to make the trade of a lifetime and win back the Market’s future. To do so, Toast will have to decide what home–and the flawed community within–is ultimately worth.
The fragile peace forged in the wake of the Arcane Crucible is unraveling. With the rise of an ancient evil, the scars dividing Arcanis have begun to bleed anew, and the future of the realm hangs by a thread.
They called her a nightmare, so she became one.
From the peerless master of contemporary fantasy comes a tale of three cousins and the world of creatures, ghosts, and murderers that surrounds their trailer park. Illustrated throughout with comics pages!
Antigone is no stranger to death.
A boundary-pushing fantasy that blends magical realism with dark academia, perfect for fans of Bunny by Mona Awad and Motherthing by Ainslie Hogarth.
Shop ’til you drop . . . dead
She is the life of the party. He is the villain you never wish to meet alone. Tait Heartwalker may be the cousin of the Ever King, but royally good company he is not. He’s ill-tempered and unapproachable, sharpened by the hard responsibilities of life and loyalty. But to the dismay of Mira Sekundär, princess of the glamour fae, he’s also intoxicating to look at.
A house, itself, is nothing. It’s not a shelter until it is sheltering someone. A house is a housefire, waiting for its match. A house is a ghost story, waiting for its death.