#spellswept

The evening of the Spring Equinox was cool and balmy, just as the weather wizards had--for once!--reliably predicted. The glittering guest list for the Harwoods' annual ball was exactly to Amy Standish's design. As she prepared to descend into the lake that gently rippled, reflecting the full moon and stars, outside the grandeur of Harwood House, Amy knew she had organized the most important night of her life to absolute perfection. The only tiny, insignificant task left to do was to propose marriage to the right man by the end of this evening. Then she would finally win everything she had ever dreamed of, and it would be utterly perfect. She knew it.

-- Spellswept

Of course, a sensible woman would never have accepted the invitation in the first place. To attend a week-long house party filled with bickering gentleman magicians, ruthless cutthroat lady politicians, and worst of all, my own infuriating ex-fiancé? Scarcely two months after I had scandalized all of our most intimate friends by jilting him? Utter madness.

-- Snowspelled

It was bad enough to be deprived of my new husband before our wedding night. It was utterly unjust to be tormented by nightmares weeks afterward as I slept, still alone, in our marital bed. For the ninth morning in a row, I woke up gasping and clawing at my throat, fighting to yank piercing thorns out from my skin...thorns that, of course, existed nowhere but in my dreams.

-- Thornbound

Dressing for a ball would always be a challenge for any lady who found it easier to analyze--from memory--an obscure spell from two centuries ago than to remember which sleeve lengths were currently fashionable across the nation. But dressing for a ball at Angland's first women's college of magic, where at least half the dancers were certain to add competitive spellwork to their costume and the enigmatic local fey were likely to make an appearance? That raised the standards--and the stakes--enormously.

-- Moontangled

There was this much to be said, Honoria supposed, for comprehensive public and personal ruin: once all that she'd ever cared about had been ripped from her grasp, she no longer had anything left to fear.

-- Spellcloaked

There was a fine line between ambition and foolishness, and I had spent most of my life walking it. Still, as looked around the crowded, fey-lit dining tables at Thornfell College of Magic for Young Women on the eve of our second Winter Solstice, I was forced to admit that--just this once--I might have aimed my goals a bit too high.

Spellswept is the prequel novella to Snowspelled, and it details the night Cassandra's magic is publicly revealed and Jonathan and Amy's engagement. It's a really lovely little story that highlights what happens when you almost don't recognize your found family until too late, because at the beginning of the novella, Amy is about to propose to Lord Llewelyn. Lord Llewelyn is a class A dickhead and thinks he's better at magic than he actually is. He also has zero respect for Amy's autonomy, and views her as a literal step in his own magical career.

This could not be ANY MORE marriage of political convenience if it TRIED.

Amy's political aspirations and being mentee to Miranda Harwood have her all set up to run the Boudiccate as soon as she marries a magician. Instead, however, Amy discovers just in time that oops, actually, she has already FOUND her chosen family, and it's with the man who bucked hundreds of years of family and social tradition to make space for his younger sister's success.

Jonathan Harwood should, by all rights, have been the head of the Great Library and one of the most powerful magicians in Angland and a perfect match for Amy. Ultimately, he is STILL her perfect match romatically, but they both end up choosing to surrender their ambitions and planned lives to make sure that things change. They're adorable together, and Amy's realization that she has already found her family and that all she has to do is open her eyes and see that is really sweet.

The setting of the novella is also TRULY delightful. It takes place in the Aelfen Mere (which is just SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCH an amazing name, it's giving old world fae and Beowulf simultaneously), a ballroom that Miranda Harwood's husband made for her as a wedding gift. It's kind of delightful because the way you get into this ballroom is a literal leap of faith. I'm going to go ahead and let the text speak for itself on this one:

There was no staircase dug into the ground of Harwood House, no tunnel leading beneath the lake. Instead, every visitor was required to take a leap of faith: to step, though every sense warned against it, into that rippling blue water and be sucked beneath it. It was a moment of utter helplessness that should have signaled drowning to any who couldn't swim, or at the very least ruin to their elegant ballroom finery.

This is a DICK MOVE of a ballroom entrance and I love it. There is pretty much zero reason to have this as a test to get in the dang door, except that it is PERFECT for Miranda Harwood. Miranda is calculating, politically savvy, and more than good enough at reading people to use this as a way to gain an upper hand. It is literally the perfect ballroom for a cuthroat politician.

There is also the small matter of spells needing to be maintained in this world, and Mr. Harwood having died five years ago. Nobody has looked at the spell keeping the Aelfen Mere together since then, and it is only Cassandra being damn good at magic and Amy being as good a politician as Miranda in her own right that keeps everyone from dying when the spell gives way.