This magical new YA romantasy from the New York Times bestselling author of To Kill a Shadow will steal your heart. Set in Andalay, a world where the ruling Fates bestow gifts among the favored, a thief must join forces with the palace darling after he unwittingly steals a necklace with the power to change everything.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Katherine Quinn’s Stolen Midnights ahead of its release on February 3rd 2026.
When Damien, a cold and hardened thief, is hired to steal a gift from the powerful Fates meant for the “princess” of Ward One, Wren Hayes, he finds himself entangled in a web of secrets.
The gift? A locket containing his own phototroph.
Once the locket is opened, hidden truths unravel, ones that shed light on the ruthless ways of the upper-class society. Yearning for the three Fates and the magical gifts they bestow, the lords of Andalay will go to any length to keep their power—including murder.
Brought together by destiny, and fighting a dangerous temptation that’s becoming harder to resist, Wren and Damien navigate a seedy world where the truth can destroy not only their lives, but the city itself.
The longer I sat here ruminating over my misfortune, the longer I’d have to stay at this hellish ball. Grumbling a curse, I rose and stepped beyond the alcove—
And immediately bumped into the rather hard chest of Lord Everett Sinclair.
Liquid spilled everywhere, wetting my skin as the scent of whiskey stole from the floral fragrance of the garden. Everett bit back an ungentlemanly curse and brushed at his fine sapphire vel- vet jacket before lifting his striking blue eyes to mine.
Fates.
“I’m so sorry!” I hurried to say, eager to avoid this interaction. Mother, on the other hand, would’ve been thrilled; well, not by my clumsiness. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Obviously.
Everett was three years my senior and quite handsome, one of the many suitors Mother had pointed out to me months prior. Her scheming would be all for naught after this little display. I hoped.
Everett swept a hand down his once-pristine white shirt, his stunning silver wristwatch catching the light of the weak moon, the mother-of-pearl face shimmering. Before he could speak, his mouth barely having opened, a waiter rushed by, a fresh towel hanging from his arm.
“Sir!” called the waiter, a towering man with unkempt black hair and the coldest gray eyes I’d ever beheld. “Let me assist you.”
Leave it to the Lovetts to arrange for waiters and assistants to be hidden in every nook and cranny.
I stepped aside as the waiter meticulously attended to the spill, mumbling apologies here and there, when really, it was me who’d caused the mess. Everett shifted closer to the man as he awkwardly patted the waiter in what I took as gratitude. But his eyes stared deeply into mine, making me adjust my footing while crossing and uncrossing my arms. I didn’t care for the attention, and certainly not the kind of attention he was so openly displaying.
I immediately began to formulate my excuses to leave. Everett spoke first.
“Wren Hayes.” His voice was smooth like silk, and when my name sounded from his lips I understood why many found him al- luring. “I’ve been meaning to seek you out all evening, yet it seems you’ve been hiding out in the garden among the flowers. Though you yourself are reminiscent of one tonight.” The corners of his mouth quirked up.
I could’ve sworn I heard the waiter muffle a choked scoff. I resisted the urge to join him.
“I needed the fresh air,” I answered smoothly, ignoring the sickly-sweet compliment. All I desired was loose clothing and the comfort of my bed and my book—which had just gotten to the good part. “Perhaps at the next party we’ll meet and there will be more time.”
“But—”
“All done, my lord,” the overzealous waiter thankfully interrupted, stepping back with a curt nod. I looked at the waiter then, taking in the shadows that played across his sharp cheekbones and highlighted the corners of his full, curving lips.
“Thank you,” Everett said stiffly, not sparing a glance at the man who’d assisted him.
But I did.
I watched as he hurried down the pathway—in the opposite di- rection from the house.
“I was hoping for one dance, but I suppose I can be patient,” Everett said as he lifted his arm and ran his hand through his dark blond hair, a boyish smile playing on his lips.
My heart skipped a beat when I noticed it . . . or the lack of it. His silver watch—
It was gone.
I whirled to where the waiter had taken off. The man must’ve stolen it—he’d been all too quick to “help,” taking his time to run that cloth up and down Everett’s suit. The slick bastard had pinched it right before our eyes. I wasn’t sure what came over me; perhaps it was the need to escape or the heat building inside my chest, a small voice telling me to give chase—
I took off in the direction the waiter had taken, starting a jog that soon turned into a run. I was impervious to the fact that Everett called my name or that I sprinted through a garden in a ball gown—an act that would cause my mother to faint.
The gardens were vast, but I caught glimpses of black hair glim- mering in low light just ahead of me beside a bed of yellow roses. The sight would vanish altogether a blink later. I frowned, confused, but kept racing forward, determined to retrieve Everett’s watch.
Soon the waiter’s silhouette came into full view, the end of the path nearing. A looming wrought iron fence surrounded the Lovetts’ land, with no gate in sight.
No escape, I pondered gleefully.
The man before me was quick, and each time I blinked, he seemed to flicker. It had to be a trick of the dark night. It didn’t mat- ter. I was equally fast and more determined.
I was positive that Everett had the means to replace such a fine watch without issue, but I’d been beaten down so many times since my birthday that I needed a win. Something.
With the last of my waning strength, I lunged, colliding with the muscles and heat of the thief as I shoved him to the ground.
He let out a crude, accented curse as we rolled, me fighting to pin him down. Most of my hair had fallen out of its updo, and I heard the harsh rips of my dress. I didn’t care. I’d become some sort of vengeful warrior, someone I didn’t recognize . . . but a thrill ran from the crown of my head to my toes.
We came to a halt, the waiter landing on top, his weight pressing me farther into the soil. Both of us panted, soaked in mud and plastered with dried leaves.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the thief barked, his dark eyes glinting with silver flecks and malice. He stared down upon me with indignation, having the audacity to act affronted as he swiped his hair out of his face—which was more handsome than I wished to admit. His bronze skin seemed to glow all on its own, and his cutting cheekbones were severe and dangerous; an invitation to temptation. But it was those eyes that captured me . . . so cold, out- lined in black—yet there were traces of light, like tiny stars dancing across his stony irises.
His attractive face would have no effect on me. Some of the most treacherous things in this world were disguised behind a mask of beauty.
My chest heaved as I met his trenchant gaze. I didn’t bend. I was a Hayes, after all.
“You stole his watch,” I accused, another thrill running down my back. “And I’m here to get it back.”
He scoffed before lowering himself to whisper in my ear, his heated breath causing me to shiver. Escape, my inner voice begged. I ignored it.
“Let’s see you take it from me.”
Damien
Wren Hayes had tackled me to the ground.
Fates above, I had not expected the princess of Ward One to chase after me in a voluminous ball gown, let alone wrestle me in the mud. Then again, I supposed even I would do damn near anything to get away from the pompous prick who’d cornered her. He looked like sleep personified.
Below me, Wren’s caramel hair spread around her like a halo, the color somehow shining in the dimness. And her eyes . . . I hadn’t had the chance to see them up close before, but the turquoise specks swimming in the greenish blue appeared too stunning to be real. If she weren’t the daughter of Cameron Hayes, I might’ve found her attractive. Might being the key word. But it was the sheer look of rage painting her features that stole my attention.
“I will not take it from you,” she snapped, the bite in her tone un- expected. “You will hand it over. Now.”
I sneered at her request, making a show of glancing down her frame where she was currently trapped below me. Wren lifted an unimpressed blond brow, clearly unfazed by my blatant attempt to intimidate. If anything, her eyes turned sharper, the colors that ignited the night growing more pronounced.
This couldn’t be the same anxious woman who’d paced in her parlor on her eighteenth birthday, all rosy cheeks and anxious en- ergy. She’d been the embodiment of bright pink and wildflowers and spring. This creature, on the other hand, her lips set in a thin line and her eyes narrowed into catlike slits, was a thing to be reck- oned with.
My twisted mind rather enjoyed it.
I cocked my head, ignoring the way her body felt against mine. How her heat seeped into my bones. My thighs digging into her generous curves . . .
Focus. She’s the enemy.
I grinned, fully utilizing the smile that typically set others on edge. The one where my canines poked into my bottom lip. “You’re awfully confident given the fact that I’m—”
Something cold pressed against my ribs. Well, shite. I didn’t need to look to gather it could pierce some decent holes into my flesh.
Whatever this little rabbit had planned piqued my curiosity. A rather difficult thing to do—even if my life might have been on the line. Eh, what was a little tangle without the threat of death?
Smile set in place, I sought the source of the metal, finding a bronze letter opener poking into my side. Impressive, really; a princess with a weapon and fire in her eyes.
My stare lifted, pleased when I discovered a smirk plastered across her face. One that silently screamed she wasn’t to be trifled with, even by the likes of me. And I so loved a challenge. Wren Hayes should know better than to engage in fights with criminals.
