In The Secret Rise by Judith Briles and Brian Barnes, a hidden valley community in 1000s Normandy is pushed into the open, and its leader, Nichol, has to turn that exposure into protection. The story starts with Timo traveling to England to reach Queen Emma and keep a fragile alliance alive, then circles back to Harmonie as enemies close in and old wounds resurface. When power politics and church intrigue collide, Nichol’s gifts, the sense of “the Lady,” and the watchful hawk all become part of how the community survives. The book labels itself historical fantasy fiction and women’s fiction, and that blend is exactly what you get.

I really enjoyed how the writing keeps returning to care as a kind of strength. Not soft care. Practical care. Food, shelter, teaching, planning. You see it when the kids start stepping into who they are: Lucette apprenticing with an aging bowyer, Athena aching to find her own place, the family trying to raise capable children in a world that punishes the vulnerable. That focus gives the book a steady heartbeat. It also means the pace can feel like it moves slowly, less like a thriller and more like a community ledger where every choice has consequences.

The authors make some bold and satisfying moves when they let public power meet private courage. The confrontation with Lord Charles snaps into a sharper, higher-stakes register, and it pays off. There’s blood, yes, but also control, messaging, and the cold math of authority. Then comes the moment that really defines the “rise”: Duke Richard publicly elevates Robert and Nichol, turning them into titled protectors with land and responsibility. I liked that it isn’t framed as a fairy-tale reward. It lands like a heavy cloak. Warm, maybe, but weighty. And later, the book earns its emotional stakes again in scenes like the river rescue, where the kids’ courage and the wolves’ training become life-or-death in a storm-swollen current.

If you’re into historical fantasy that uses light-touch mysticism to deepen character and theme, and women’s fiction that centers leadership, family, and found-community resilience, this one will likely work for you. I’d especially recommend it to readers who enjoy stories where politics and spiritual mystery sit beside domestic details, where competence is its own kind of magic, and where “building a life” gets as much page time as winning a fight. If you like hope that has splinters in it, and a heroine who leads by seeing people clearly, this book has a lot to offer.

Pages: 542 | ASIN: B0FDV29WWF