Reading the first couple of chapters, I was intrigued by Wicked Saints’ twining of religion, politics and magic, and the questions it hints at, but, sadly, what tatters remained of that interest quickly deserted me as the story progressed. “Some of us just hide it better than others.” “We’re all monsters, Nadya,” Malachiasz said, his voice gaining a few tangled chords of chaos. Nadya soon discovers that unknown forces are scheming to carve a new avenue to power and fulfilling her destiny of helping the gods reclaim their hold on the world might prove harder than she'd thought. And there’s Malachiasz, a Tranavian defector whose real intentions are shrouded in secrecy and with whom Nadya forms a reluctant alliance while they’re both on the run from the Tranavian soldiers. All this mayhem is like blood in the water, and Nadya isn’t the only one swimming in it: Serefin, the High prince of Tranavia and a powerful blood mage, has scant interest in anything unless it involves alcohol but now finds himself forced to constantly look about him in trepidation for those who might be in a position to oppose his succession, including his father, the king. But a sudden Tranavian attack on the monastery sends Nadya’s destiny spilling out into the air.

Nadya, a Kalyazi cleric who can commune with an entire pantheon of gods, is training in secrecy in the holy mountains by priests who sought to wield the power that sheltered inside her into the one thing that could save Kalyazin from sinking to its knees. Your most anticipated book of the year doesn’t live up to your expectations and you have to cancel your plans for the day to be angry about it.įor a century, Kalyazin and Tranavia bled great gouts of men into a holy war that served no greater cause than one country’s fear, and one empire’s hubris. But seriously-being this sensitive is really inconvenient.

Ah yes, the place I truly dwell, a damp and cold eternity of endless disappointment.įine.

Wicked Saints by Emily A. Duncan