Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Summer Official by Rebekah Weatherspoon, which is out now.

Saylor Ford and Heaven Goo-Campbell could not be more different. Saylor is bubbly, popular, athletic, and always coupled up. Meanwhile, Heaven is grumpy and artistic, prefers her skateboard to people, and is perpetually single. So obviously, sparks fly when they must spend the entire summer together.

When Saylor, distracted by her mom’s viral video about Saylor’s coming out, breaks her arm at basketball camp, she becomes determined not to spend the summer stuck at home with the social media star. Her best escape is the girl she’s pretty sure can’t stand her but whom she finds absolutely irresistible, Heaven. Thankfully, Heaven is willing to let Saylor in on her summer plans, but for a price. Saylor has to help Heaven establish her social media presence, showcasing her art for her future career as a tattoo artist.

They didn’t anticipate the intimacy of spending each day together and the deepening feelings that followed. And their bingo scavenger hunt is now less a shared project and more a skate ramp to romance. But do the girls have a future together if Saylor is wary of bringing a relationship out into the open—too afraid that her mom’s influencer status will attract more attention than Saylor and timid Heaven can handle?

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from I Could Give You The Moon by Ann Liang, which releases on April 14th 2026.

Everyone loves Chanel Cao—except Ares Yin.

While Chanel has spent her entire life curating a picture-perfect social media personality—from her body to her hair to her camera-ready smile—Ares has spent his trying to hide in the shadows. But Ares’s brother is missing, and Chanel’s parents have secretly separated, and their only hope is each other.

Ares is willing to do whatever it takes to find his brother, and Chanel will do anything to keep her parents’ secret. When the two meet and share a vision of the future—where Ares’s brother appears, as Chanel’s house burns to the ground—they are determined to use each other. Ares believes Chanel is the key to finding his brother, but Chanel is convinced if she gets Ares to fall in love with her, she’ll save her family house—and her parents’ crumbling marriage.

But Ares isn’t interested in the fake personality that Chanel has used her entire life to get affection and adoration. If she’s going to save her reputation, she’s going to have to let Ares get to know the real her—and risk real feelings.

EXCERPT

The best thing about heartbreak is how spectacularly predictable it is.

I’ve watched it play out enough times to know exactly what to expect, how to react. First, there’s flat-out denial. He won’t hurt me, I swear. He isn’t like that. He was just getting lunch with her, and he said himself she was only sitting on his lap because there weren’t enough seats in the cafeteria. He never lies about anything, so why would he be lying to me now?

If well-meaning friends remind you about the twenty-five instances where he was, in fact, lying, you pretend not to hear them. You’re too busy clinging to whatever’s left of your time together, holding out hope that you can find a cure, even if the relationship is gray in the lips. . . .

Until at some point, the denial collapses under the weight of suspicion, and that’s when the anxiety kicks in—the second stage. Casual messages from months ago turn into vital evidence, every punctuation mark analyzed for proof of how he texted when he loved you, if he ever loved you, and when he stopped. In a selfie, the blurry reflection of a girl standing beside him in a coffee-shop window becomes a killing blow. The rage hasn’t arrived, not yet. But it will, during that third stage, in a violent spiral of midnight venting sessions and deleted conversations and tossed pillows.

My friend Haili is clearly still stuck in the second stage of heartbreak—by far the least fun of them all.

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” she mutters to me, the worried line between her brows illuminated by the warm hotel lobby lights. She’s fiddling with the diamond charms on her wrist, a nervous gesture I’ve seen her perform like a ritual a hundred times in the decade I’ve known her. “Maybe I should just ask him. . . .”

I shake my head. “You’re never going to get an actual answer if you just ask about these things. Like, okay, what could he possibly say? ‘Yeah, you’re right, I snuck out to get dinner with another girl even though we’ve been a thing for two months already’?”

“But . . . what if he gets mad at me for following him here?” she whispers. “What if he never wants to talk to me again?”

Even though this is yet another expected symptom of second-stage heartbreak, it’s still mind-boggling how the sufferers tend to focus on how the other person feels.

A memory sneaks up on me: my own mom, sobbing to her friend on the phone when she thought I was out of the house, a silk bathrobe draped around her shaking shoulders, the crack in her voice as she spoke. He doesn’t love me anymore. Why doesn’t he love me anymore?

I shove it away. Lock it up before bile can rise to my throat.

“The question isn’t whether he wants to talk to you,” I tell Haili firmly, loudly enough to drown out the rattling in the back of my brain, and give her slender arm a squeeze. “You should start thinking about whether or not you’ll ever talk to him again.”

“I . . . okay.” Even through the dark tint of my sunglasses, I can see her complexion turn pale. “Okay, let’s go find him.”

I make a beeline for the front desk, through the bamboo groves designed to look like they’ve sprung right out of the black marble floors, and around the indoor pond that’s been trending as the new aesthetic photo spot on Xiaohongshu. Everything here is sleek wood, subdued colors, sophisticated in a way that isn’t too try-hard. Perfect influencer bait.

Two businessmen stop and stare at me as I brush past them, but I don’t slow my steps. The trick to fitting in anywhere is to act like you already belong there. Walk with purpose, shoulders straight, eyes ahead.

“Hello.” I greet the receptionist in my brightest voice. “Can you please point us in the direction of the Sky Restaurant?”

The receptionist glances up from her laptop and offers a smile almost as fake and wide as mine. “Yes, sure.” Then her attention slides past me, to Haili, and I follow her gaze with a wince. Haili looks like she’s on the verge of having a breakdown right in the middle of the perfect lobby. “Is your friend . . . okay?”

“She’s fine,” I say. “She’s just really hungry. We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Right,” Haili squeaks out unconvincingly. At least she’s stopped gnawing on her lower lip. “I’m really, really hungry. Super hungry.”

But the receptionist studies us with growing suspicion. “Sorry, before I let you through—could I actually have your room number first?”

I feel Haili stiffen beside me.

“Um,” Haili says. “We don’t . . . we aren’t staying here—”

“I see.” The receptionist’s smile slips all the way off her face. “Well, I’m sorry, then. The restaurant is only open to our guests and VIP members.”

“That’s okay,” Haili begins to say, but I make a quick motion behind my back for her to leave it to me.

“I’m one of your VIP members,” I say smoothly, though I’m unsure if that’s true. Of course, this in itself wouldn’t have been an issue a few months ago. My father’s a titanium member at practically every major hotel and airline in the world; if I ever needed to pop into the lounge or visit a restaurant like this one, all it’d take was a quick phone call from him for the staff to let me through. But that might prove a little harder now, seeing as I’ve blocked his number and cut off every channel of communication between us.

“Do you have your membership card with you?” the receptionist presses. “Or your membership number?”

No, and no. But a quicker solution springs to mind—just a considerably more obnoxious one. “You can search for my name,” I tell her.

“Pardon?” The receptionist blinks at me.

“I’m sure I’m in your system,” I say. “It’s Chanel Cao.”

I Could Give You the Moon Copyright © 2026 by Ann Liang. Reproduced by permission of HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved.

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Girls Like Us by Jennifer Dugan, which releases on May 5th 2026.

Ruby and Morgan fell for each other during their senior year of high school, and now, almost a year later, they are determined to keep their spark alive, even while they are apart. Morgan is studying public policy on a track scholarship at a university several hours away, while Ruby stayed in their hometown and is exploring her love of mechanics in the automotive engineering program at the local community college.

Despite their best efforts, the space between them begins to weigh on the girls, with new friendships and flirtatious classmates adding complications. Still, the two are counting down the days to a spring break getaway and the bliss of a whole summer vacation together. But when Morgan discovers she’s a finalist for the perfect internship and Ruby gets a shot to appear on her favorite automotive TV show, their plans are thrown into question. With both girls unwilling to stand in the way of each other’s future, they wonder: Can their relationship still go the distance even if they’re on separate paths?

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Releasing on October 20th 2026 from Flux Books, read on to discover the cover (illustrated by Robert Filip with designer Kate Liestman), and the synopsis.

Accelerant is available to pre-order on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop.org and North Star Editions, but first, here’s what T.L. had to say about his cover!

“Briar Stokes is a nerdy anime-loving kid stuck in the remote Ozarks who decides to play vigilante against a hate group just outside his community. His favorite film is Akira, so I wanted to evoke that movie’s famous red bike with Briar’s red Kawasaki Ninja. Plus, I knew that, just like in the book, everything needed to be on fire. The artist nailed Briar’s look. I couldn’t be happier with the result.”

From the Printz Honor-winning author of Cope Field

After his best friends are attacked at a Pride demonstration, anime nerd Briar Stokes grabs a length of pipe, dons a Japanese demon mask, and hops on his street bike with one goal: to enact violent revenge against the white supremacists infesting his rural Missouri community.

 What he doesn’t know is how deep the roots of hate grow, nor how much they’ve entangled his own family. But when his quest for vengeance pits him against his own stepbrother, who faces radicalization by that same hate group, Briar soon learns the hard way that violence doesn’t stop violence . . . It accelerates it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

T. L. Simpson is an award-winning journalist and novelist living in Arkansas. He is currently the editor of his hometown paper. His fiction draws from his experiences growing up in the Ozarks and covering both sports and crime. Simpson lives in the Arkansas River Valley, between the Ozark and Ouachita Mountains, with his wife and four children.

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Deathly Fates by Tesia Tsai, which releases on April 14th 2026.

As a priestess paid to guide the deceased home, Kang Siying has never feared death. However, when her beloved father collapses, Siying realizes that even she is not free from the cruel grasp of mortality. Desperate to provide her father with the medical aid he needs, Siying accepts a dangerous job that promises a generous commission, and travels to a hostile state to retrieve the corpse of a missing prince.

But the moment Siying places her reanimation talisman on the dead prince’s head, rather than make the corpse obedient to Siying’s commands, the talisman brings the prince back to life. Worse, he won’t stay alive for long―not unless he absorbs enough qi, or life force, to keep his soul anchored to his body.

In return for a reward worth twice her original commission, Siying agrees to aid the frustratingly handsome prince in finding and purifying evil spirits for their qi. As they journey across the countryside, encountering vengeful ghosts and enemy spies alike, they gradually uncover dark secrets about the prince’s death―secrets that could endanger both Siying’s father and their entire kingdom.

PROLOGUE

The high-pitched chime reached the village gate, death’s waves ringing toward the shores of the living.

Mothers swept their children from the windows into their beds, locking the shutters. Overworked farmers hurried home like rabbits dashing for the safety of their burrows. Even the night sentries abandoned their posts, leaving only a flickering torch to greet their inauspicious guests.

From the shadows of the main road, a tall figure emerged, carrying a staff of peach wood with dangling iron chimes. He wore the crossed-collar cotton robes of a priest, the teal fabric ghostly pale in the moonlight. A square black cap sat atop his head.

Clinging to his side was a girl no older than ten years, her plump face unusually stoic for a child so young.

What followed behind them was what frightened the hiding villagers most: a line of stiff corpses, arms outstretched for balance. Ashen skin peeked out from dust-covered clothes. The scent of sickly-sweet rot hovered over their frames. The Fu talismans taped to their heads like long yellow paper veils compelled them to lumber slowly, wordlessly, after the priest.

As the group approached the quiet village, the priest turned to the girl and said, “Do you know why we must always ring the bells, Siying?”

“To guide the deceased home?” she replied. This was the first time her father had allowed her to accompany him on his journey, and she was eager to impress.

“Correct.” The priest motioned at the village’s empty streets, the mala beads wrapped around his wrist flashing against the torch’s glow. “But there’s another reason as well—we must ring the bells loudly to warn the living. It’s incredibly unlucky for mortals to look upon the walking dead.”

“But what about us, Baba?” asked Siying. “Are we not also living?”

Her father smiled. “As servants of the gods, we walk a fine line between life and death. If you are wise and protect yourself the dead cannot bring misfortune upon you—nor can they physically harm you.”

Siying glanced at their undead flock. Their gray faces were stark against the dark silhouette of the forest behind them.

“Why should the dead harm me?” Siying stared back at her father. He’d secured a living out of serving the dead, but it seemed to have only made him kinder. His brown eyes were patient, almost amused, as she pressed, “We’re shepherds who lead them home and gift them with the proper burial rites. What reason have they to hurt us?”

They’d crossed the village gate, the road narrowing to make space for the homes and establishments that had been built over the years. Not a sound, not even a breath, could be heard through the closed windows and doors. Still, Siying could imagine the villagers praying silently at their shrines, scattering glutinous rice to keep away bad fortune.

Her father led them past the inn without stopping. They never stopped where humans dwelled.

“Not everyone is grateful,” said her father, the bells tinkling with the staff’s movement. ”Among the dead, there are bound to be some who carry lingering ill will. When the evil is strong enough, it can even turn the dead against a well-meaning priest or priestess.”

Siying shivered, looking back at the corpses again. The talismans reanimated their lifeless forms and halted their bodies’ decay, but their faces were blank and soulless, their mouths unmoving. No longer able to think or feel as they once had, they were about as threatening as her younger sister’s straw dolls.

“Have you ever faced such a corpse?” Siying asked.

“Once.” Catching her expression, her father reassumed his smile and placed a protective hand on her head. “Worry not, daughter. With your strong, handsome father around, you’ll always be safe.”

Siying’s laugh broke apart the momentary fear. Familiar as she was with death, she was still a child and not entirely immune to nightmares. She clutched her father’s hand, cheerful despite the somber work they were carrying out. “Promise me, Baba? Promise you’ll stay by my side for a hundred years—no, a thousand.”

He squeezed her tiny fingers, chuckling. “I promise. Alongside your mother and your younger sister—we will always be with you.”

Siying clung to his words, unaware it was the promise of a softhearted father, as easily broken as it was made.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Deathly Fates’ by Tesia Tsai appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and first three chapters of This Boy I Hardly Know by Lisa Heathfield, which releases on May 7th 2026.

Sixteen-year-old Dusty is smart, talented and fiercely protective of her younger sister Poppy. They’ve been moved from foster carer to foster carer, until one day the unthinkable happens: Dusty and Poppy are separated, and no one can say when they will see each other again.

Devastated but determined, Dusty has to find a way to reach Poppy. Everything seems stacked against her until she meets beautiful, fearless Cooper at her children’s home, and together they decide to run . . .

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from We End In Ashes by Kat Delacorte, which releases 8 April 2026.

In one act of flame and fury, Lilly Deluca plunged the town of Castello into a brutal civil war and was stripped of her own Saintly power in the process. Wanted by opposing clans, Lilly fights to stay ahead of her pursuers while keeping herself and Christian, the boy she loves, alive.

But she cannot escape the city. Castello was built on secrets, and it won’t let Lilly out of its deadly grip. Something is calling to her from the depths of the town, promising to be the key to her salvation – returning her power and ending the war for good. . .

With the clans closing in, Lilly must team up with Nico, the beautiful boy from the rival mafia family, to uncover the truth about Castello’s dark heart. But as the conflict escalates and her connection to Nico intensifies, Lilly is forced to choose: break her own heart, or risk letting Castello fall forever.

Equal parts thrilling and devastating, this YA romantasy is the epic conclusion to the With Fire In Their Blood duology, perfect for fans of Powerless and V.E. Schwab.

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The Escape Game is a YA mystery thriller with themes and topics like parental abandonment, greed, fame, child predators, teamwork, appearance versus reality, gender identity, truth and lies, and show business. The Escape Game would be perfect for fans of Margot Mertz Takes It Down by Carrie McCrossen and Ian McWethy, The Grandest Game by Jennifer Lynn Barnes, The Reappearance of Rachel Price by Holly Jackson, and Death at Morning House by Maureen Johnson.

Having completed a few escape rooms over the years, I loved the escape room-themed game show setting and all of the puzzles! It was also cool that not only were the main characters working to solve the escape room puzzles to move onto the next round, but they were also investigating the death of Sierra’s sister so this made the book seem really fast-paced and action-packed. I also appreciated that the book was broken up into sections for each of the rounds of the game show as this helped the book to flow really nicely. 

The book alternated between the perspectives of the four teammates—Carter, Beck, Adi, and Sierra—and the changing perspectives were a little hard to follow, especially at the beginning of the book. Perhaps if the book was told from the perspective of only one or maybe two of the main characters (like Carter and/or Sierra), I would have enjoyed the book more. There were also a few short interviews from the previous season with Alicia Angelos interspersed throughout the book that didn’t seem to be all that relevant.

That said, I think that the budding friendship and camaraderie between Carter, Beck, Adi, and Sierra (a.k.a. Team Helsing) was the best part of the novel.  I’ve read quite a few YA mystery thrillers recently and in comparison, I felt like The Escape Game wasn’t as unpredictable or shocking as other books I’ve read. The book does end in a bit of a cliffhanger, but sets the main characters up nicely for another adventure, so I’m excited to see what’s up next for Team Helsing!

If you’re looking for an action-packed teen mystery thriller full of puzzles and a fun cast of characters, then I highly recommend checking out The Escape Game!

The Escape Game is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop.org, and other good book retailers, like your local bookstore, as of April 7th 2026.

Will you be picking up The Escape Game? Tell us in the comments below!

Synopsis

An unforgettable young adult murder mystery set in an escape-room themed game show filled with sabotage, betrayal, and puzzles to die for.

It’s all fun and games until someone ends up dead.

Six months ago, season four of The Escape Game ended in horror when contestant Alicia Angelos was found murdered on set.

Now season five is underway, and new contestants are ready to put their skills to the test solving the show’s trickiest escape rooms. There’s Adi, the cryptographer; Carter, the math whiz; Beck, the wannabe game master; and . . . Sierra Angelos, the girl who got away with her sister’s murder. Or so everyone believes.

But Sierra’s not just here to win. She’s here for justice.

When the contestants begin uncovering clues that hint at the identity of Alicia’s true killer, it becomes clear that the stakes aren’t high just in this competition—they’re deadly. If these teens want to win—and survive—the game, they must solve the biggest mystery of all: who killed Alicia Angelos?

From #1 New York Times bestselling author Marissa Meyer and rising star Tamara Moss comes a twisty thrill-ride that will take readers on an exhilarating hunt to uncover secrets, conspiracy, and cold-blooded murder.

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About Burn The Kingdom Down: An action-packed enemies-to-lovers romantasy filled with a romance that will leave you breathless, betrayals that will rip your heart out, and a princess who will stop at nothing for revenge. Out April 7th 2026.

Whether best friends or rivals since birth, sisterhood is one of the most complicated, most fulfilling, and most enduring relationships we can experience.  No one knows you better than your sister, so no one can hurt you more deeply. This also means no one can love and understand you more completely.

As someone who is lucky enough to have two sisters, I’ve always been drawn to exploring this fierce, chaotic, and beautiful relationship in the books I write—as well as the books I read. From loving and loyal, to down-right devious (and even murderous!), here’s a list of my all-time-favorite YA sister fantasies for when you need a good dose of family drama.

No list of sister stories would be complete without the OG sister fantasy, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. When Katniss Everdeen’s younger sister, Primrose, is selected to compete in the Hunger Games (a brutal tournament where children are forced to fight to the death in an arena) Katniss volunteers to go in Prim’s place. It’s the ultimate example of protective big-sister energy, and Katniss’s love for Prim is a big part of what carries her through the games.

One the complete opposite end of the loyalty spectrum, we have triplet sisters Mirabella, Katharine, and Arsinoe from Three Dark Crowns by Kendare Blake. Once a generation, triplet queens are born—each with unique powers and equal rights to the throne. But only one sister can rule, and in order to wear the crown, they must kill the two who stand in their way. Sibling rivalry at its finest!

While some sisters are defined by rivalry and competition, others are almost codependent in their bond. Such is the case for Iris, Grey, and Vivi in House of Hollow by Krystal Sutherland. When enigmatic, oldest sister, Grey, goes missing, Iris and Vivi must unite to find her, unraveling dark secrets along the way. The intense bond between these three is quite eerie and unsettling. At times, they almost feel like a single creature with multiple heads.

If you’re looking for large family dynamics with lots of personalities at play, look no further than Erin A. Craig’s House of Salt and Sorrows. A deliciously macabre retelling of the Twelve Dancing Princesses, Annaleigh’s four older sisters have recently met tragic and untimely ends that might be related to the glittering, late-night balls her sisters have been sneaking out to attend. If Annaleigh can’t unravel the darkness plaguing her family, she might be joining her older sisters in an early grave—and condemning her younger sisters to the same fate.

Scarlett and Donatella Dragna, the sister duo in Caraval by Stephanie Garber, might seem like opposites who constantly annoy each other, but when Tella is kidnapped to use as bait in a magical, interactive game, Scarlett will stop at nothing to bring her sister safely home. Through the games’ deadly twists and turns, the sisters’ true hearts and loyalties are revealed.

Sometimes, the closeness of sisterhood can highlight their flaws and imperfections. Other times, the pedestals they’re placed on are so high, it overshadows the truth. When oldest sister, Rowenna, is sent as a captive bride to any enemy kingdom in Addie Thorley’s, Burn the Kingdom Down, younger sister, Indira, doesn’t know how to fill her sister’s perfect shoes—or function without her. And when Rowenna dies under mysterious circumstances, Indira takes her place, determined to punish Ro’s murderer and bring the entire kingdom to its knees. But when Indira arrives in enemy territory, nothing is as expected and everyone, even her sister, had secrets. Deadly ones.

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Gravewood by Kelly Andrew, which releases on April 7th 2026.

Shea Parker has lived her entire life in the shadow of the Gravewood, an impassable forest that’s cut off her town from the rest of the world. With resources limited and supplies scarce, Shea is forced to carefully ration her hearing aid batteries. When her stash runs out, she’ll be left in the silence.

Desperate, Shea turns to the only person who can help — Oliver Lysander, the volatile leader of a vampiric gang that rules the Gravewood.

The arrangement between Shea and Lysander starts off simply enough. She gives him her blood. He tracks down batteries. They don’t cross any lines. They don’t make it personal. But when Shea’s best friend is lured into the Gravewood, her disappearance brings her older brother home from the frontlines. Asher Thorley is willing to do whatever it takes to find his sister, even if it means holding Shea’s ugliest secrets over her head.

Ever an opportunist, Lysander renegotiates the terms of their deal. If Asher takes out Lysander’s vampire rival, Lysander will help him find his sister. And if Shea agrees to Turn, Lysander will give her a cure for her ailing mother. For the first time ever, Shea finds herself leaving home. Swallowed up in the dreamlike dark of the Gravewood and traveling in the company of killers, it isn’t long before she risks becoming one herself.

© Kelly Andrew, reprinted with permission of Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Trade Publishing

THE BEGINNING . . .

Initiation nights are always a bore.

The great hall of Mercy Ridge floods with runaways, led in from the cold like pigs to a slaughter. They stand in a silent line, backs against the wall and faces downturned. Hungry. Cold. Not a single one of them is impressive. They rarely are. This far north, the valley towns churn out nothing but errant schoolboys and bored pubes­cents, wayward youths sick of life in the rural hinterlands. Boys, not men, cowering in fear each time a wolf howls.

It isn’t the wolves that scare them.

Not really.

It’s the boy on the hearth, thin as a rail and quiet as a wraith. Oliver Lysander doesn’t need a mirror to know what it is they see when they look at him: heavily inked hands and an unsmiling face, his features uncanny, like a baroque artist’s rendering of a human. A little too pretty. A little too pale.

A little too hungry.

The boy directly before him is the last of tonight’s hopefuls. He isn’t privy to the bloody thoughts that pulse in Lysander’s head, or the way Lysander imagines sinking his teeth into his throat. If he was— if he had any idea at all— the boy would turn and run.

He’d take his chance with the wolves.

Like the previous initiate, there is nothing about this particular boy that Lysander likes. This one is from Little Hill— a tiny, dull‑as‑dirt town just south of the mountain. Lysander can tell because he’s dressed in the hideous uniform of Little Hill’s stuffy Hornbeam Hall, the bare oak crest silver against a jacket the color of mud.

His name is Tristan, like fair Iseult’s ill-fated knight. Last name Choi. His face is bloodless, pale. His hands open and close in trem­bling fists. At Lysander’s back, his own fingers twitch in a subconscious imitation.

He has never been able to help himself from mimicking his prey.

“You’re afraid of me.” He doesn’t pose it as a question, and so maybe that’s why Tristan doesn’t answer. The silence irks him any­way. “Don’t stand there and stare. Say something.”

“I’m not,” gasps Tristan, and he sounds nothing at all like a knight. “I’m not afraid.”

Lysander peers down at him, unconvinced. “I don’t need liars in my crew. I need people I can trust.”

Nearby, Lysander’s lieutenant makes a sound that is very nearly a groan. Cyrus Talbot stands propped against the adjacent wall, his face bloodless and his eyes dull. Desiccated, the way Lysander is des­iccating. Starved, the way Lysander is starving. Neither of them has fed tonight, and it’s making them both tetchy.

“There’s no need to drag this out,” Cyrus says. “Either he’s in or he’s not.”

The silent implication hangs between them: Either he lives or he dies. Cyrus is clearly hoping for the latter. His mouth is already full of teeth.

In the room’s carpeted quiet, Tristan’s heart beats faster. “I think I’d make a valuable part of the crew,” he says. It comes out in a rush, words bumping one into the other.

Lysander drags his gaze back toward this boy- who‑is‑not‑a‑knight, considering him anew. “Valuable.” He mulls it over, pinning Tristan in his stare. “The Spartans were considered to have the strongest army in ancient Greece. Their battles were fought in a phalanx. Have you covered that in school?”

Tristan glances between him and Cyrus. “No.”

“No, of course not,” says Lysander. “God forbid they teach you history. It’s a tactical formation. Heavily armed infantry would stand shoulder to shoulder, several ranks deep. Linked together, they became a single entity. They moved as one. They killed as one. When the enemy pushed, they’d push back. Can you stand?”

Tristan swallows. “Yes.”

“Can you push?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re valuable. That’s not the question I’m asking. What I want to know is whether you’re loyal.”

“I am,” says Tristan, without missing a beat.

“Maybe to someone,” agrees Lysander. “But will you be loyal to me?”

Cyrus grins, teeth sharp. “He has trust issues.”

Lysander ignores his lieutenant, watching Tristan fidget under his gaze. “Here’s what I think— you’re here tonight because you’re running from something.”

“Who isn’t?” asks Tristan.

“Me,” he counters, though this is a lie.

Oliver Lysander had run so far, he ran all the way here— to damp, dull New Hampshire. To the belly of Mercy Mountain, perennially frozen and perpetually dark. He dug out a home for himself in the shell of the old ski lodge and then assembled his crew from the ground up. Cyrus first, and then the rest. The Mercy Boys, his very own army. Ragtag and runaway and impossible to call to heel, but loyal to the bone. He needs them loyal. He needs them united— a single defensive entity. One day, the thing that chased him so far north will come looking. If it finds him alone, it’ll destroy him.

He doesn’t plan to let it.

“Tell me what you’re running from and maybe we’ll keep you around.”

Tristan’s throat bobs in a swallow. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to say. Lysander can just make out the wild flutter of the boy’s pulse in the soft curve of his neck. He can hear it, palpitating through his veins in frantic ticks. He can smell it, ambrosia sweet.

His mouth waters.

“I graduate this year,” says Tristan. “My brother went to univer­sity, but my grades— my family expects me to enlist.”

“And you’re afraid to be on the front lines,” guesses Lysander.

Tristan balks. “That’s not—”

“You think this is the easy way out. Sleeping all day. Feeding all night. No responsibility to anything, or anyone.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve seen it before. No one wants to hunt us and die. Not when they could be us and live. You’re not special, you’re—”

“I don’t want to die for something I don’t believe in,” snaps Tristan, cutting him off.

It’s a pretty answer. A noble answer, full of conviction. Still, Lysander can hear the avoidance in it. The way Tristan skirts around admitting the whole truth. There’s something else. Something he’s too ashamed to admit. Here, now, is what he’s been looking for. These are the sorts of recruits Lysander needs.

The ones who have already shut the door behind them.

“Not everyone survives,” Lysander says. “Sometimes the Rot gets into your head instead of your blood. Sometimes it breaks you.”

Tristan’s eyes dart to Cyrus. “What does— Does this mean I’m in?”

Decisions, decisions. In or out. Live or die. Mercy Boy or carrion. The Rot is in everything. The beasts. The trees. The boys. They drink it up from the groundwater, let the hunger take hold.

If Tristan is in, he’ll live here at Mercy Ridge. If he’s not, they’ll cast him out and let the wolves have his body, let the forest gnaw on his bones. Either way, Tristan Choi won’t be leaving the forest again.

“Your membership is conditional.”

He watches as some of Tristan’s courage flags. “Conditional on what?”

“On what happens when you drink from the well.”

“Finally,” crows Cyrus, springing from the wall. “I can take him there.”

The well, as it were, is more of a pump. It sits in the courtyard, rusted and ugly and girded in lichen. Its pipes run deep, pulling from the same water that feeds the forest. The same spring- fed poison that gave the trees teeth. It gives them teeth, too— those who call the forest home. It makes them hungry. Sharp. Cold. Or else it consumes them.

Like he told Tristan, not everyone Turns.

“Thank you,” says Tristan as Cyrus ushers him toward the exit. He sounds a little regretful, the full weight of what he’s asked for dropping down on him like an axe. Cyrus tosses a knowing smirk at Lysander as he slings an arm over Tristan’s shoulder. There’s no undoing what’s about to be done, and both of them know it.

“I love an initiation.” Cyrus crooks his elbow, hooking Tristan in close. “It’s always a good time. Come on, kid, let’s go see how gods are made.”

The door skids slowly shut in their wake. Cold creeps in through the crack.

Outside, the hall is empty. Through peels of paint along the blacked- out windows, Lysander can just see the first few tinges of dawn. A pale, ashy light he’s never felt upon his skin. He sinks into an empty chair by the hearth, kicking out his boots. Letting the fatigue crawl into him. He’s only eighteen, but he feels a thousand years old. Like he carries the forest in his chest.

He shuts his eyes. Jabs a finger at his temple. He wishes for a sleep that won’t come. He’s not immortal— not in the storybook sense— but the possibility of eons stretches tauntingly before him regardless. A lifetime in the dark.

Alone.

“Hello?”

He jolts immediately to his feet.

A girl is there, standing in the doorway where there should have been no one. Silent, when he should have heard her approach. She looks very small between the room’s wide white columns. The lights of the chandelier emblazon her features, turning her elfin in the gloom.

He knows he ought to say something. Something clever. Something cutting. Instead, he holds himself still and charts her in silence. Her hair is a mousy blonde, cut just beneath her chin. She’s dressed similarly to Tristan Choi— in Hornbeam colors. A brown jacket. A pleated skirt. A regimental tie and scuffed leather shoes.

The hunger within him comes screaming to the surface. Not because he didn’t expect to see her here— there have been girls at initiation before— but because of her hand, held out like an offering between them. A deep gash runs across her palm. Blood gathers in the shallow creases, red and tempting.

He stares, and she stares back. He knows what it is she sees. There’s a hard pulse of hunger behind his eyes, an ache that chips at his control. When he gets like this— ravenous— his appetite leaves him bruised all over.

He knows what they call him, down in the valley towns— knows why they cross themselves when they pass too close to the trees, why they whisper his name in the midnight dark.

If the Gravewood is hell on earth, then he is its devil.

“That’s quite an entrance,” he says, doing what he can to ignore the trickle of blood along her fingers. “I’m curious to hear how you made it to the lodge in one piece.”

“I walked.” Her voice is low and sweet, an unplaceable accent softening its edges. His intrigue intensifies.

“Alone?”

“Do you see anyone else?”

It comes out combative— more so, perhaps, than she meant it to. Her face betrays nothing, but he can hear her heart hammering against her rib cage. His gives a single, hard thump in reply. A wordless call-and-response that leaves him rattled.

“You should never have made it here on your own. The trees in this part of the woods are carnivorous. They whisper all kinds of things when the wind blows.”

The girl’s shoulder lifts in a shrug. “I must not have heard them.”

Ridiculously, he finds himself biting back a smile. He shouldn’t be smiling at her impertinence— he should be throwing her to the wolves.

“I’m impressed,” he says instead. He means it. “I’ve seen hard­ened forest rangers follow the voice of a loved one into the pines.”

There’s a beat, during which he can see her fitting his words together. Then, “Maybe I have a secret weapon.”

This time, his smile breaks loose of its own volition. “Maybe you do.”

Silence falls again. She doesn’t rush to fill it, and so neither does he. He listens to the hard beat of her heart in the quiet. He tries to imagine her in the woods all alone, ignoring the beckoning of the birch trees, the hungry pleading of the ancient hemlocks— faces of the devoured grafted into their trunks. She stares back at him all the while, her blood gathering at her fingertips. He clears his throat.

“Unfortunately, you’re too late. I’ve filled all available slots.”

She blinks, surprised. “I’m not here to Turn.”

His curiosity is so deep, it’s tectonic. He wonders what her blood would taste like against the flat of his tongue. He wonders if Achilles knew, upon meeting Patroclus, that it would end in tragedy. If he went in with both eyes open anyway.

“I assume you have a name,” he says.

“It’s Shea.”

He likes how it sounds. One syllable, soft as a gasp.

“And you know who I am.”

“I do. You’re the Gravewood D—”

“Lys.” One syllable. Sharp as a knife. He angles his head to the side— watches her swallow his name the way he swallowed hers. The whole room smells like blood. It makes him feel stark rav­ing mad.

“If you’re not here to Turn, then you must have a death wish.”

“I don’t want to die.”

The slight quiver in her voice narrows his focus. Suddenly, all he can see is her. All he can hear is her. The too- fast clip of her heart. The frantic rush of her pulse. The soft plink of her blood dripping to the floor. In that moment— her eyes shining with a resolve he feels all the way down in his gut— she doesn’t look like an obstinate girl from Little Hill. She looks like ruination.

If he were smart, he’d send her away.

“If you’re not here to die and you’re not here to Turn, then why come at all?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She holds her hand flat between them. Her palm is red all over. “I’m here to make you a deal.”

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