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The False Princess
The False Princess is a fantasy novel that blends court politics, young love, and an undercurrent of danger as Princess Sitnalta prepares for her future role as queen. The story opens with old secrets resurfacing, threats stirring in the shadows, and multiple characters navigating loyalty, family, and identity. What begins as an engagement celebration quickly fractures when Sitnalta becomes the target of a calculated assault, and the emotional fallout sends her, her loved ones, and the kingdom into far more complicated territory.
Reading it felt like slipping back into a classic fantasy world where kingdoms matter, alliances matter, and every gesture carries weight. What pulled me in most wasn’t the magic or intrigue, but the relationships. Sitnalta’s bond with Navor is warm and earnest, and the moments between Sitnalta and Aud feel tender in a way that makes the palace feel like an actual home instead of a backdrop. Gwendolyn and Ipsinki add another thread about love, choice, and the quiet pressure of tradition.
The writing itself is straightforward and emotional. Sometimes a little dramatic, sometimes soft, but always sincere. And when the darker moment arrives on the balcony, the tone drops hard and fast, which honestly worked. It’s jarring in the way those moments are supposed to be. The author gives Sitnalta space to feel shaken, ashamed, angry, and ultimately supported, and those scenes were some of the strongest in the book.
As I read, I kept noticing how much attention the author gives to interior feelings. Characters think, hesitate, second-guess, explain themselves, and comfort one another. The pacing stretches at times because of this, but in a story that centers on identity and stepping into power, I didn’t mind lingering in people’s heads. What surprised me most is how grounded the emotional beats feel inside a fairy tale–like setting. There are silk gowns and royal balls, but also conversations about consent, reputation, and the burden of leadership. Even the villain, Sparrow, isn’t painted with subtle strokes, yet his cruelty serves as a sharp contrast to the compassion in the rest of the cast. The book keeps circling back to the idea that strength isn’t loud. Sometimes it’s in telling the truth. Sometimes it’s in letting others help you.
The False Princess is a good fit for readers who enjoy character-driven fantasy, especially those who like royal intrigue mixed with heartfelt relationships and themes of resilience. It’s very much a fantasy novel at its core, but one that leans into emotional honesty more than magic or battles. If you appreciate stories about young women finding their voice within demanding worlds, this one will speak to you.
Pages: 184 | ISBN : 978-1945502750
The City of Arches
The City of Arches follows Princess Sitnalta as she uncovers a long-hidden letter, one that reveals the past of her mother, Learsi, whose own journey from starving street thief to reluctant partner of the wizard Kralc becomes the heart of the book. It’s a fantasy novel through and through, built on quests, hidden cities, magic, danger, and old wounds, yet it moves with a personal focus that makes the stakes feel close to the skin.
I found myself reacting less to the grand fantasy quest and more to the author’s choices in shaping her characters. Learsi’s early chapters hit me hardest. Her hunger, the cold stone under her bare feet, and the constant weighing of risk and survival felt vivid and relatable. Even her wary dance with Kralc, a man who can feed her, manipulate her, or save her depending on the moment, brought a tension that carried far beyond the tavern scene. The writing is straightforward and sincere. It doesn’t try to dazzle with flowery language, which I actually appreciated. The pace is steady, letting me sit with Learsi’s exhaustion, Kralc’s prickly solitude, and Sitnalta’s shock as she pieces together her mother’s past.
The fantasy elements are threaded in with a kind of quiet confidence. The legend of the City of Arches, for example, is both eerie and oddly beautiful: enchanted arches emitting a soothing song that masks the slow decay of a cursed people. I liked how the author lets the myth sit without over-explaining it. The emotional beats land more softly than dramatically, but they linger. Even the small moments, like Kralc awkwardly realizing he cannot knock on a deaf girl’s door or Learsi racing to shovel stew into her mouth, gave the book a grounded feel. Sometimes the dialogue is earnest, sometimes the plot steps into familiar fantasy rhythms, but those qualities made the story welcoming and easy to follow.
By the time I reached the later chapters, I felt as if the book was less about a magical quest and more about the way people try to rebuild trust after their world has broken apart. The stakes grow, of course, but the heart of the story stays with Learsi and her slow opening up to someone who might actually mean her well. I rooted for her, even when she second-guessed herself or snapped defensively. Her reactions felt real.
I’d say The City of Arches is best suited for readers who enjoy character-driven fantasy: people who like quests but care more about the companions on the road than the monsters in the woods. If you want something gentle yet still full of secrets, something that balances fairy-tale simplicity with emotional weight, then you’ll heartily enjoy this book.
Pages: 226 | ASIN : B0G46P9D3T
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