Of Light and Shadow is a novel about magic, mayhem, love, and betrayal–the story of a bandit and a prince who change each other in unexpected ways.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Tanaz Bhathena’s Of Light and Shadow, which is out May 23rd!
When they don’t give us our birthright, we steal it.
Roshan Chaya is out for justice. Abandoned by her parents at birth and adopted by the kingdom of Jwala’s most notorious bandit before his brutal murder, she is now leader of the Shadow Clan, a gang of farmers-turned-bandits impoverished by the provincial governor’s atrocities and corruption. Roshan’s goal: to avenge her adoptive father and earn back rights and dignity for her people.
Prince Navin has always felt like an outcast. Second in line for the throne, he has never been close to his grandmother, Queen Bhairavi of Jwala. When a night out drinking with friends leads to his capture by the infamous Shadow Clan, Navin schemes to befriend Roshan and use her as a means to escape. His ploy, however, brings Navin closer to the corruption and poverty at the heart of Roshan’s province, raising questions about its governor and Navin’s own family.
To further complicate things, the closer Roshan and Navin get, the harder it becomes to fight their growing attraction. But how can they trust each other when the world as they know it starts to fall apart?
Set in a magical world inspired by the badlands of 17th century India, this standalone epic fantasy novel by Tanaz Bhathena is packed with political tensions, dangerous schemes, and swoon-worthy romance that asks the age old question: can love conquer all?
A silhouette fell across his lap. He looked up, breath catching for a split second. It was her. The Shadow Bandit, Roshan, unmasked. He’d recognize those dark brown eyes—and the anger in them—anywhere. She had a round face with acne scars on the chin, an upturned nose, and full brown lips that bloomed pink at the center. There was no evidence of laugh lines anywhere. Yet, despite the obvious lack of humor on her face, the flirt in Navin had to admit the obvious: She was pretty. Dangerously so.
The worn red jama and black trousers she wore did little to hide her curves or the muscles on her arms and thighs. As if sensing the turn of his thoughts, one of her sturdy brown hands settled on the wide, crossbar grip of a punch-dagger strapped to her waist, sheathed in a scabbard under a wide black waistband. A warning. Navin’s gaze moved back to her face, to wavy hair that ended in a crop below her ears, a red so dark it appeared nearly black. In Prabha, people called the shade a true Jwaliyan red. A color that was not quite fire, not quite coal. The palace courtiers spent hours in beauty houses across the capital, used countless concoctions of magic, henna, beetroot, and jatamansi to mimic what appeared to be the Shadow Bandit’s natural hair color.
“Looks like the rajkumar has too much weight on him. We should relieve him of it.” Lalit was eyeing Navin’s pearl and ruby earrings and matching four-strand necklace, the white jade bracelets on his wrists.
“Good point,” she said. “One of those trinkets could be amplifying his powers. Take it all off, Rajkumar.”
That goddess-forsaken tharra. He should’ve never tried to outdrink Shera.
Though the bandits’ auras were slowly emerging again, most were still invisible to Navin’s eyes or indeterminate wisps of color around their heads. Every person’s aura was made up of different colors, and each color identified a specific emotion. It would be folly to attempt a spell, even on a small scale, without seeing the exact colors within their auras or even ascertaining the group’s general emotional state.
Naturally, the Shadow Bandit would be worried about Navin’s amplifiers, though she really needed only his bracelets. Embedded with firestones and seaglass, their ends shaped to formed two alligator heads joined in an open-mouthed kiss. They’d been gifted to Navin by his grandmother shortly after his father had abandoned him.
Navin didn’t particularly enjoy wearing the bracelets; they felt like shackles on a good day. But the combination of white jade, firestones, and seaglass worked like a dream when it came to amplifying soul magic. The only other amplifier he had on his person was the signet ring he’d worn since he’d come of age—a plain but comfortable band made of polished Jwaliyan teak.
“Take it all off?” Navin drawled, hoping she didn’t see the rapid pulse at his throat. “Is this your idea of foreplay? I’d prefer we get to know each other a little. Perhaps over a meal and a few cups of wine.”
A few snickers followed his comment. The Shadow Bandit’s eyes narrowed.“I have little inclination of bedding anyone who smells like a drunk water buffalo.”
Laughter echoed in the cavern. Even Navin’s mouth fought a smile. The girl was right. He did stink. Well, then. Perhaps it was time to change that.
As he slowly rose to his feet, he felt the buzz of magic—a barrier, he guessed, by the thornlike sensation against his skin. In the blink of an eye, the katar was pricking his throat.
Ah. So she, at least, could cross the barrier.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. This close, he could see the fine lines of her deep brown irises, smell the cloves on her breath and the sweat beading her skin. His gaze trailed her throat, pausing at the wooden amulet between her collarbones. Something was carved there—a tree, maybe—but it was the grain of the wood that caught his attention. The fiery swirls of firebloom bark. An amplifier, perhaps?
The blade burned his skin this time; the Shadow Bandit had drawn blood. He wrenched his gaze up from her amulet back to those murderous brown eyes.
“Take it all off, Navin,” he whispered. “Call me by my name and I’ll do exactly what you say.”
A tremor curved her mouth. The katar did not budge.
Dear goddess, let her take the bait.
It was a gamble, challenging the Bandit in this way. But names bred familiarity and familiarity was the first step to creating a bond in soul magic. If she chose to say his name of her own volition, their bond would grow stronger, making her more susceptible to his influence. Right now, despite the challenge he’d issued, she still had the upper hand. She could order her minions to strip Navin of his jewels. She could torture him until he chose to remove them himself.
An apology crawled up his throat, ready to emerge, when the Shadow Bandit spoke:
“Take it all off. Navin.” She spat out the last word as if it was tainted.
As if he was tainted in some way.
Yet the moment she spoke his name, the faded colors of her aura darkened to a single shade, surrounded her face like the sun. Raging russet, Navin named the color, relieved at being able to see her emotions, angry as they were. The more vibrant her aura became, the stronger their bond would grow, allowing him to manipulate her emotions without her noticing. As long as he could still speak, of course.
He curbed a grin. “As you wish. Roshan.”
Undoing the hoops in his ears, he dropped them to the floor. The necklace followed, and then, more reluctantly, his bracelets. But there was no way he could hide them; their mere ostentatiousness made it impossible. His only hope now lay in the unassuming teak ring still on his finger. Still unnoticed—though that could change at any moment.
Unless . . .
Navin grinned wide and let his jama slip off his shoulders.
As expected, the move caused more than a few raised eyebrows. “What are you—” the Shadow Bandit began.
“You did say to take it all off, Roshni. And I don’t want you to remember me smelling like water buffalo.” Then, with a quickness he normally reserved for rapid, lust-filled interludes in quiet alleys or secluded public baths, he undid the drawstring of his trousers and let them fall to the floor.
“Goddess’s flaming hair,” he murmured, watching the Shadow Bandit’s eyes grow wide. The red light of her aura now started mingling with another color: the delicate pink of embarrassment. “It seems I’m not wearing underclothes today.”
A few snickers erupted around them.
Navin smiled, hoping the bandits didn’t see his tightening jaw. If they had, they didn’t say anything. No one seemed to have spotted the ring on his left pinkie, either. Curling the finger inward, he placed his hands on bare hips and pretended to be utterly at ease while their eyes roved over his form. He was already worse off without his bracelets than his clothes. But the teak ring could work as an amplifier. It was small and not enough for a truly powerful spell like the one he’d attempted on the dhow. But his mind and body were now throwing off the effects of the alcohol, and his soul magic was beginning to emerge, evidenced by the faded wisps of bandit auras around him. None, of course, were as clear as their leader’s, with whom he’d daringly formed a name bond. This, of course, would not last forever.
Already the Shadow Bandit was looking at him like he was a pile of dung, her nose wrinkled, her mouth pinched at the corners. Whatever embarrassment he’d seen in her aura had faded, a streak of cobalt muddying the red. Was she worried? Or worse: Was she suspicious?
Quietly, she scooped up Navin’s discarded jewels and clothes from within the barrier and handed them to Chotu, who stood beside her.
“Get the rajkumar some new clothes,” she said, her low voice a cold wash of water prickling over Navin’s skin. “Since he has generously donated his overpriced garments, we might as well give him some suitable replacements.”
“Haan, Sardar.”
Moments passed during which Navin began to sorely regret his attempt at bravado, his skin prickling under multiple gazes. But Chotu reappeared soon enough, his small hands holding out what appeared to be bits of folded gunnysack. Roshan took the clothes from Chotu and dropped them at Navin’s feet.
High hell. Was he really expected to wear that?
The curve of the Shadow Bandit’s mouth was as sharp as a blade. “Am I sensing regret, Rajkumar?”
“Navin,” he corrected. “And my only regret is that I’m naked and you’re not here touching me.”
It was dangerous to play like this—to try to strengthen their bond with lust. His stomach churned as the Shadow Bandit stepped forward, crossing his barrier with the ease of a hot knife slicing through butter. Her cool fingers brushed the cut at his throat. Ice coated Navin’s skin, making the fine hairs on his neck rise. He wondered if she’d frozen his voice again. He swallowed hard.
“Well, Navin?” she asked. “Are you happy now?”
Before he could reply, her hand dropped, leaving the skin at his throat tingling. Colors wafted around her: a blue cloud of worry, tinged with the slightest hint of yellow.
Fear? Was the Shadow Bandit afraid?
Not of him, certainly. She could kill him if she wanted to. No, something greater was at stake here. Something that had—he touched his throat with his fingers—made her heal his injury shortly after causing it. Navin never had been and never would be good at physical combat.
With a poor amplifier, he had no hope of taking on so many bandits. He would have to bide his time until he could escape. He would have to play the Shadow Bandit, play each of these bandits, the way he once did his tanpura, lightly plucking each of the instrument’s four strings, tuning it until it made the perfect sound. For now, he waited a few moments, allowing the slightest bit of magic to seep toward his throat—a subtle tingling sensation that only he was aware of.
“Tell me more, Roshni,” he said, ensuring that his voice was warm, but not too warm. Sweet, but not too sweet. “What do you want from me?”
For whatever she wanted, Navin would promise to give. Over and over, until she believed him, heart and soul.
Then, slowly, carefully, he would slide it out of reach.
