A sharp-witted, high fantasy farce featuring killer moat squid, toxic masculinity, evil wizards and a garlic festival – all at once. Perfect for fans of T. Kingfisher, K. J. Parker and Travis Baldree.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Caitlin Rozakis’s Dreadful, which is out May 28th 2024.
It’s bad enough waking up in a half-destroyed evil wizard’s workshop with no eyebrows, no memories, and no idea how long you have before the Dread Lord Whomever shows up to murder you horribly and then turn your skull into a goblet or something.
It’s a lot worse when you realize that Dread Lord Whomever is… you.
Gav isn’t really sure how he ended up with a castle full of goblins, or why he has a princess locked in a cell. All he can do is play along with his own evil plan in hopes of getting his memories back before he gets himself killed.
But as he realizes that nothing – from the incredibly tasteless cloak adorned with flames to the aforementioned princess – is quite what it seems, Gav must face up to all the things the Dread Lord Gavrax has done. And he’ll have to answer the hardest question of all – who does he want to be?
A high fantasy farce featuring killer moat squid, toxic masculinity, an evil wizard convocation, and a garlic festival. All at once. Dread Lord Gavrax has had better weeks.
“Just, well, make something nice. That a princess might want to eat.”
The goblin blinked slowly at him. The kitchens were terribly dim, lit mostly by the enormous fires roaring in the hearth. He wasn’t sure if it was a mercy. The firelight outlined a face that seemed to be composed mostly of nose, with two tiny little black eyes, shining like beetles from the greenish folds of the face. The little valet had looked almost cute compared to this one. He wasn’t even sure of the gender of the creature staring up at him.
“And that you would want to eat, master?”
It had taken him less time to find the kitchen than he’d feared. There just wasn’t that much castle, and it turned out the kitchen occupied a large chunk of it. Everyone scurried out of his way when they saw him coming, rather than asking if he were lost in his own house. Because that would be ridiculous.
He blew out a breath, struggling not to sound frustrated. “Yes. Something that both a princess and I might want to eat.”
It continued to blink at him. A female, perhaps? The sack-like dress covered most of its, or her, upper body, and some of her fellows seemed to be wearing loincloths alone. The dress did not seem to have been washed in a long time, however. If ever.
He couldn’t bear it. It was horribly out of character, he knew, but he also knew he’d be picturing the filthy rags the entire time he was trying to eat. “And I don’t suppose you might have something cleaner to wear? An apron, even?”
Slowly, her little eyes widened. “An apron?”
“Or… not…” he said, backing away like the coward he was afraid he might be. He had no idea why mention of an apron might bring on some emotional upheaval, but it was more than he’d bargained for. “Whatever you’d like, really. Just make sure that dinner is nice. Please. Uh. I command.”
He fled back upstairs.
He shouldn’t let the goblins unnerve him, he knew. He’d chosen them for his primary staff, so they must be competent enough. Or maybe not. Maybe they were just less likely to poison him than human cooks would be.
He was starting to regret this entire idea.
Siraco stood waiting for him at the top of the stairs and he nearly groaned aloud.
“I brought the princess a dress we had in the stores,” the steward reported. “A little moth-eaten near the bottom, but I think it should do nicely.”
Gav wondered if he should have looked himself. He feared what Siraco would think would “do nicely.” But since he had no idea where the stores were, exactly, he’d had to delegate.
“If I may be so bold, my lord…”
Gav closed his eyes and wished for patience. “What is it, Siraco?”
“Perhaps tonight is not the best night?” Siraco’s eyes flicked everywhere—the ceiling, the floors, the corners—everywhere but Gav. “It’s just…”
“Spit it out, Siraco.” He put a little growl into his tone.
The steward shrank into himself. “You are not always in the best of moods after your calls with Lord Zarconar.”
Gav froze.
Siraco continued on more rapidly. “And you said, after the last one, that you wanted me to remind you not to schedule anything after one, since you didn’t have that many crystals available to shatter.”
He tried to still his racing heart. Who was Zarconar? And why was the name alone enough to make his mouth dry up? “Siraco, remind me,” he said slowly. “I appear to have lost track of the time. How long do I have before this call?”
Siraco consulted a small sand timer around his neck. It had to be enchanted, there was no way it could have been accurate otherwise, bumping his belly like that. “About fifteen minutes, my lord.”
“I see.” He forced a confident smile. “Well, then. I have plenty of time to get set up, don’t I?”
He walked up the stairs to his workshop numbly, trying to figure out how to hide his missing memories from someone who apparently scared him all the way through the amnesia.
