Review: Dawn of the North by Demi Winters

Dawn of the North is an epic saga packed full of action, intrigue, danger, mystery, secrets, betrayals, old enemies, new enemies, gods, monsters, and SO much more!

About the Book

A new age begins in the Kingdom of Íseldur in this sizzling third installment of the Viking-inspired Ashen romantasy the series.

The lost Volsik heir has finally returned to the people of Íseldur, and even with the warrior who’s captured her heart standing by her side, Silla’s task is monumental. She must earn the loyalty of the northern jarls to drive Ivar Ironheart from the throne and restore peace in the kingdom. But the secret she vigilantly guards threatens to ruin all her plans: A shard of a god lives in her mind, twisting her thoughts and deeds to His will.

Meanwhile, held captive on the mysterious isle of Zagadka, Saga Volsik fights to return to her sister in Íseldur. But when King Ivar sets his sights on the Zagadkians, she’s forced to make an impossible choice: fight for the man who stole her—and is now hell-bent on marrying her—or let the innocent people of his kingdom die.

As a poisonous mist threatens the realm, the sisters will delve into the unknowns of their magic to battle against evil. Return to the land of ice and fire, where a god awakens, a queen finds her power, and sisters must unite against the darkness threatening their realm.

My Review

The story is massive and the stakes are monumental as each character finds themselves facing adversity, hardships, trials and tribulations.

Silla: Trying to embrace her destiny as Eisa Volisk but wishing she could just be herself while constantly fighting the god of chaos in her mind, falling in love with Rey, and desperately trying to find her sister Saga.

Saga: Glad she is no longer under King Ivar’s tender mercies but is currently in a foreign land kidnapped by the roguish and deadly Kassandr, making plans to get back to Íseldur to find her sister Silla, carefully evaluating the Zagadka people as friend or foe while waiting for a knife in her back and fighting a deeply personal battle with herself.

Hekla: Trying to complete the job the Bloodaxe Crew was tasked with to eliminate the mist while dodging two suitors and the misogyny of the pig-headed warrior band that joined their cause in Roots of Darkness. Men, ugh! She is one of the toughest and most resilient warriors in the series.

Rey: Torn between protecting Silla and watching her walk into a birthright that’ll most certainly put her in more danger than ever before while navigating the sharks at court and preparing to join the in the fight against the mist, separating him from Silla. One must wonder if a more nefarious plot is afoot to cleave him from her side. Ha! He’d like to see them try, and so would Silla. 

Kassandr: Has brought trouble to his people but he did it to protect Saga. He wants to claim her for himself but faces an uphill battle with his father (the king) and brother to keep her in Zagadka all while secretly preparing the kingdom for the inevitable war he knows is coming despite the arrogant naysayers.

Eyvind: Second heir to Jarl Hakon, striving to get back in his father’s good graces after several “failures” but has been completely enchanted by the lovely–and magnificent–Hekla. He’s a bit of a mystery. 

Queen Signe: Wife of King Ivar, in mourning for her daughter and hungers for vengeance against Saga. Currently making plans of her own despite her husband’s scorned pride and war plans for retribution. Totally evil, cunning, duplicitous, and gravely underestimated.

And the list goes on and on and on… 

I was on the edge of my seat as I read chapter after chapter, hungrily devouring page after page. I knocked this thing out in 2 days. It was SO hard to put the book down to eat, sleep or do anything else. 

There are so many brilliantly crafted characters, dynamic landscapes, climactic story arcs, intricate plots and subplots, dangerous political climates, duplicity in all shapes and sizes, and SO many surprises! 

Demi Winters is a masterful storyteller and Dawn of the North her shining opus!

I cannot recommend this book enough! The Ashen series is a juggernaut in the fantasy genre and Dawn of the North is the absolute highest standard of excellence across all genres of literature.

FTC Disclaimer: I voluntarily read a copy of the book generously provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This in no way influences my thoughts or feelings about the book or the content of my review.

Purchase Links*

Penguin Random House | Demi Winters Website

About the Author

Lover of all things fairy tales, fantasy, and romance, Demi lives in British Columbia, Canada with her husband and two kids. When she’s not busy brainstorming fantastical worlds and morally gray love interests, Demi loves reading and cooking. Learn more at demiwinters.com

*Third party links to the publisher's website. May contain affiliate links.

Review: Roots of Darkness by Demi Winters

Roots of Darkness is a short, side story in The Ashen series. It’s an important part of the timeline and stars Hekla, one of the Bloodaxe crew’s strongest–and most damaged–warriors. Hekla has been through a lot in her life and instead of letting it defeat her, she uses it as fuel to throw on top of the already fiery spirit she has. 

About the Book

Join Hekla and the remnants of the Bloodaxe Crew as they battle the evil, poisonous mist threatening the citizens of Istré—and perhaps all of Íseldur—in a novella following the events of Kingdom of Claw.

Traveling the Road of Bones was only the start of Hekla’s troubles.

The Bloodaxe Crew have arrived at the village of Istré—beleaguered and missing three of their members. They might be down in numbers, but Hekla “Rib Smasher” is determined they’ll complete their job all the same: defeat the monstrous, sentient mist and keep the citizens of Istré safe. What she didn’t expect is for Istré’s bullheaded chieftain to block her every move.

Exasperated, Hekla throws caution to the wind for a single passion-filled night. But to her horror, the mysterious red-cloaked warrior to whom she’s spilled her deepest secrets is the Bloodaxe Crew’s new temporary leader and ally—Eyvind Hakonsson.

Hekla must now learn to play by Eyvind’s rules while guarding her heart. But when it becomes clear that his plans align with the chieftain’s, Hekla takes matters into her own hands.

Nothing will stop her from keeping the innocent people of Istré safe—not even the man who haunts her thoughts.

My Review

Hekla is in a man’s world always having to prove herself. Thankfully, the leader of the Bloodaxe crew–Rey–sees her worth and knows her contribution is priceless. That’s why he put her in charge at the end of the Road of Bones (Book 1) to go to Istré to complete the job they were commissioned to do.

While in Istré, what’s left of the Bloodaxe crew are biding their time and grieving the loss of a fallen crewmate until Rey’s childhood friend shows up with reinforcements to help complete the job. Hekla knows the local chieftain is hiding things from them and has become more of a hindrance than a help. She’s got a feeling the chieftain is placating her until “real warriors” can help solve the problem.

When the band of warriors show up 3 days early, Hekla gets a huge surprise when she finds out the dalliance she indulged in the night before is the one she’s been waiting for, Rey’s friend and second son to the Jarl of Kopa, Eyvind. Talk about awkward.

Now they have to work together, despite the simmering sexual tension, to defeat the mist and save the town of Istré. Working in close proximity to Eyvind and his warriors brings back lots of unpleasant memories from Hekla’s past. She does her best to shake them off while keeping the rest of the Bloodaxe crew together and proving to Eyvind’s warriors she’s more than capable for the job ahead. No problem right? Not. At. All.

I really enjoyed reading this short story and I loved that Hekla got the spotlight. Her past is a private pain she rarely shares and I loved learning more about her and how hard she had to fight to overcome her demons and the misogyny in the kingdom. I greatly admire Hekla and if anyone deserves a happily ever after, it’s her.

While Roots of Darkness leaves more questions than answers, it is an exciting installment to the series and I am SO glad we don’t have to wait long for the next book!

I highly recommend the entire Ashen series!

Purchase Links*

Penguin Random House | Demi Winters Website

About the Author

Lover of all things fairy tales, fantasy, and romance, Demi lives in British Columbia, Canada with her husband and two kids. When she’s not busy brainstorming fantastical worlds and morally gray love interests, Demi loves reading and cooking. Learn more at demiwinters.com

*Third party links to the publisher's website. May contain affiliate links.

Review: Kingdom of Claw by Demi Winters

Happy Release Day

Kingdom of Claw is the second book in the amazing epic romantic fantasy series by Demi Winters.

Get your copy today!

About the Book

Return to the Kingdom of Íseldur, where enemies become lovers and dark secrets hide around each corner, in the sequel to the Viking-inspired romantic fantasy The Road of Bones.

In the aftermath of a harrowing journey, Silla Nordvig’s dreams of a simple life have been shattered. Beaten, betrayed, and reeling from the revelation of her true name, she flees Kopa with Reynir Galtung, the ruthless leader of the Bloodaxe Crew. But when they're forced into hiding together, Silla soon discovers that Rey has been keeping secrets of his own.

Stuck in a shield-home with the murderous man she thought she knew, Silla forms a new plan: master the magic flowing through her veins to save her sister. But before she can do that, Silla must face her most formidable opponent yet—her own inner demons.

Saga Volsik has nothing to lose. They’ve murdered her family. Stolen her throne. And now they expect her to marry their son, but not if she can dismantle Queen Signe’s plans first. The only problem? The handsome Zagadkian dignitary who knows far too many of her secrets.

Silla and Saga will need to find the strength to step into their destiny and stop chaos from sweeping across the land. Meanwhile, dark threads continue to weave themselves through Íseldur as magic long thought dead begins to wake.

Excerpt

 

CHAPTER 1

Two days west of Kopa

Silla Nordvig had once vowed no force in this world could draw her to the true north of Íseldur, but clearly she’d underestimated the gods’ twisted sense of humor. Because here she was, on a horse with Axe Eyes, heading for that very place.The canyon’s black walls climbed up on either side of them as Horse walked beside a flat-­bedded river. Nature had made a valid attempt to reclaim the space, moss and greenery carpeting the riverbanks and exposed ledges. But black volcanic stone dominated, the sheer canyon walls stark and raw in their beauty.

They’d ridden through the canyon for two full days now. The sun rose and set, the world moving on as though it hadn’t been smashed to pieces. But with each passing day, Silla’s spirits sank lower. It was starting to settle in—­there would be no Kopa.

Instead, there was Kalasgarde.

Silla exhaled. Rey claimed to know people in Kalasgarde who could help her hide from the queen and Klaernar. He thought it would be safe for her. But Silla knew better than to hope; her foolish heart had been bruised too many times. The truth was, there was no place safe for her. Not now that she knew her true name.

Eisa Volsik.

Heir of King Ivar’s sworn enemy. Hunted by Queen Signe for her mysterious, wicked plans. Political pawn to those in power. Easy reward for those who were not. The name brought nothing but misery. Chest tightening, Silla clamped her hands around the saddle horn until her knuckles grew white.

Not her. Not her. Not her.

Silla drew in a long breath. Exhaled it slowly.

Kopa had been Matthias’s decision, and Kalasgarde was Rey’s. As the days wore on, the idea of choosing for herself grew in Silla’s mind. Perhaps there were better options for her than the northern wilds of this kingdom. A southbound ship leaving Íseldur had a pleasing feel to it. She could go to the Southern Continent or Karthia, perhaps. Anywhere she could fade into obscurity.

For the time being, Silla had resigned herself to Rey’s plan. Istré for now. It was easier not to decide for herself. A relief, if she was being honest. But between the black walls of the canyon, Silla had nothing but time to think. To remember their names.

Ilías Svik. Matthias Nordvig. Skeggagrim.

Good men, all dead because of her. Perhaps living was her punishment. To wake each morning with the anguish of their blood on her hands, with the ache of Jonas’s betrayal etched into her soul, knowing that Metta was in the Klaernar’s prison, suffering at the hands of her captors.

Certainly, Silla bore the bruises of Kopa—­a beating so thorough that her eye had swelled up and her ribs ached with each slight movement. Even so, she couldn’t help but think she deserved far worse.

They rounded a bend, the canyon widening. The lower levels of the wall had eroded away in one spot, leaving a thin black spire topped with a wider rock.

“They call it Hábrók’s Hammer,” said Rey from behind her. “We will camp here tonight. There is an overhang there to shelter under. Plenty of grass for Horse . . .” Her mind drifted to the rumble of his voice along her back. It was impossible to keep their distance while on horseback, and in her exhaustion, she’d given up trying. Though she’d never admit it to anyone but herself, his presence behind her—­a solid wall of warrior—­was reassuring.

“Silla?”

She shook her head, trying to disperse the haze clouding her mind. Rey had dismounted and was staring at the small crescent-­shaped scar at the corner of her eye.

Stop staring at it! she wanted to scream. This scar was her damnation. It had allowed those men near Skarstad to identify her; it had gotten her father killed. Silla turned her head, dismounting from Horse.

Over the past days spent traveling together, she and Rey had settled into a routine of sorts. Mindlessly, Silla removed Horse’s saddle and brushed her down, while Rey pulled supplies from the saddlesack and set up camp. By the time Horse’s coat gleamed and she’d wandered to a lush patch of grass, Rey had a fire roaring. As it happened, he was remarkably adept at kindling a fire, even from the wettest wood.

She sank onto the grass. Pulled at an errant thread dangling from her cuff. It was Rey’s tunic, as were the breeches belted around her waist. His clothing swam on her, but it didn’t matter. She’d burned the red dress Valf had put her in. If only she could burn the memories of his hand, clutching her neck while the other went to his belt.

Scream, dear. I do so enjoy it.

Rey’s voice diverted her thoughts. “Tomorrow we’ll travel past a village. I’ll stop and have a falcon sent north to the warriors who will fetch you.” He paused, eyeing her. “And we shall reach Istré after dark.”

Silla’s temples throbbed at the mere thought of Istré. Days now, it had been the two of them plodding through this canyon. Here, she’d settled into a numb existence. Not quite safe, yet not quite in danger: It was an in-­between. But the words village and people had her survival instincts on edge, making her pulse beat erratically.

A weighted silence hung in the air, and Silla knew Rey was choosing his words. “You must eat more tonight, Silla.” He pulled a few strips of dried elk from his bag and offered them to her.

Silla stared at his outstretched hand. The thought of food made her stomach roil, and the thought of Kalasgarde was like an anchor tied to her, pulling her down, down, down. She felt lost and so very tired. Not just her body, but her bones.

Her soul.

But she took the dried elk all the same. Forced herself to bite into it. What she wouldn’t give for her skjöld leaves, to fly away from everything for a moment or two. Would there be an apothecary in Istré? Silla had lost all her belongings, sólas included. Rey, though . . . he kept coins in a pouch on his battle belt, others in the false bottom of Horse’s saddlesack. She could pilfer a few. Sneak off to the apothecary in Istré.

She was filled with self-­loathing at the vile thought. Rey had saved her life in Kopa. She could not steal from him. But the longings were fiercer than she’d felt in days . . . weeks.

Without the leaves how could she distract herself from the gloom of her thoughts? Before, she’d had Jonas to help her escape. But like the leaves, he’d brought nothing but misery. All of the bandages for Silla’s grief were now gone, and gods, but it hurt.

Rey had busied himself sharpening one of his many daggers, but she felt the touch of his gaze on her skin. Silla glanced his way. With the fire’s flames reflected in his eyes, with that sharp jaw and the sprawl of his legs, the man looked like a malevolent god honing his blade. Utterly unbothered by anything. Impenetrable to human emotion. Brutally handsome.

Her eyes trailed across his broad frame and landed on his hip.

“May I?” she asked, nodding at the flask.

Rey hesitated before pushing to his full height and stepping around the fire. Crouching down to her level, he pressed the flask firmly into her palm. “Go easy,” he said, a groove deepening between his brows.

She wanted to reach out. Smooth the line away. Instead, she lifted the flask to her lips and took a large swallow. It burned a path down her throat, making her wince. Still, Rey stared at her scar so intently that she squirmed.

“Why do you stare at it?” she asked, blinking against the burn of the fire whiskey. “My scar?”

Rey seemed to shake free from his reverie. Running a hand down his face, for a moment he looked a little unsettled. “It reminds me,” he said, “of a life long ago.”

Silla puzzled over his words for a moment before helping herself to another gulp of brennsa. “Tell me,” she said.

Rey settled back across the fire, passing his dagger across a whetstone. “I prefer not to think of it.”

“Bad memories?” she asked, though of course he did not answer.

Tendrils of warmth unfurled in her belly, sending tiny vibrations all through her. Silla took yet another large mouthful of the fire whiskey, closing her eyes as it took effect. It was like a full-body exhalation, her tangled worries loosening, the burn of guilt soothed.

She lifted the flask for another drink.

“Silla.” Rey’s voice floated across the fire, carrying irritation and warning all at once. Silla, of course, ignored him. He wanted her to be responsible and sensible when all she wanted was to forget.

Pushing onto her feet, she arched her back in a stretch. She felt better already. Almost happy. “In a life long ago, I had chickens,” she said. The brennsa flowed through her with a silent rhythm that made her want to move. “And a swing. And I played a game. Do you want to play it, Axe Eyes?”

He scowled at her. The light from the fire caught his black curls, the warm brown of his curving cheekbone. Rey’s normally fastidiously trimmed beard hadn’t been touched in some time, and Silla considered that the past few days must have held their challenges for him as well. A better woman would offer to trim it for him—­would try to lighten his burden.

A better woman was not her.

Excerpted from Kingdom of Claw by Demi Winters. Copyright © 2025 by Demi Winters. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

My Review

Demi Winters slays in this thrilling next chapter of The Ashen series where the enemies are aplenty, the betrayals are scandalous, and action is fire! 

We finally get to meet Saga and see through her eyes all the horrors and tribulations she suffers at the hands of the kingdom's usurpers. Her story is full of pain and sorrow, but her will is steadfast and driven by the need to protect her sister. Trying to throw a monkey wrench into her plans is a group of foreign dignitaries visiting to hammer out a trade agreement with the kingdom, led by a smoldering and mysterious warrior that sees too much and has his own secrets and agenda. Is he a friend or foe? Saga has to be careful around him so she doesn’t spill secrets of her own. 

Silla and Reynir face several problems of their own. Reynir’s secrets are discovered and he’s hunted by the king’s men–and every headhunter out to collect the handsome reward. Silla’s in more danger than ever so Reynir takes Silla to the safest place he knows, a home where he swore he’d never return to. There’s safety here but lots of demons for Reynir. It’s also a place for Silla to learn her magic and train to defend herself while coming to terms with her true identity. When people start disappearing, Reynir wonders if he and Silla have brought trouble to his homeland. The king’s forces are the least of their worries when an evil unlike any other is discovered and everyone’s lives are at stake!

Oh my GOODNESS this book is amazing! There is so much action, so much adventure, subterfuge, betrayals, secrets, and so much more! I was completely blown away by the extraordinary worldbuilding, the complex storyline, and the amazing characters! The fabric of this series is brilliantly crafted, with meticulous precision and expert handiwork. It’s absolutely amazing and I recommend the entire series. I can’t wait for the next book!

FTC Disclaimer: I voluntarily read a copy of the book generously provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This in no way influences my thoughts or feelings about the book or the content of my review.

Purchase Links

Penguin Random House

About the Author

Lover of all things fairy tales, fantasy, and romance, Demi lives in British Columbia, Canada with her husband and two kids. When she’s not busy brainstorming fantastical worlds and morally gray love interests, Demi loves reading and cooking. Learn more at demiwinters.com

Review: The Road of Bones by Demi Winters

Happy Release Week

The Road of Bones is the first book in an epic romantic fantasy series by Demi Winters.

Get your copy today!

About the Book

Silla Nordvig is running for her life.

The queen of Íseldur has sent warriors to bring Silla to Sunnavík, where death awaits her. When her father is killed, his last words set Silla on a perilous quest: travel the treacherous Road of Bones–a thousand-mile stretch haunted by warbands, creatures of darkness, and a mysterious murderer–and go to Kopa, where a shield-house awaits her.

After barely surviving the first stretch of road, a desperate Silla sneaks into a supply wagon belonging to the notorious Bloodaxe Crew. To make it to Kopa, she must win over Axe Eyes, the brooding leader of the Crew, while avoiding the Wolf, his distractingly handsome right-hand man. But the queen’s ruthless assassin has other plans and hunts Silla obsessively.

Will Silla make it safely to Kopa? Or will she fall prey to the perils of the Road of Bones?

Excerpt

 

Chapter 1

Skarstad

Silla Nordvig believed in the little signs the old gods left for mortals—­red skies to foretell surprise, the flíta to usher in change, and the black hawk as a herald of death. Above all else, she knew that bad fortune came in threes, so it should not have come as a surprise when those wretched bells started ringing. She jumped in fright all the same.

After washing the bread dough from her hands, Silla dried them on the coarse material of her homespun skirts. Ashes, she thought. This week was truly taking a toll on her. It had all started to unravel when Olaf the Red had requested tenancy payment a week ahead of schedule, stretching their threadbare budget beyond its limits. Next, Silla had burned her thumb while pulling barley cakes from the embers, dropping the full batch into the cookfire. Grains were growing more and more costly—­after three long winters in a row, crops were stunted, and the harvest would be grim. Silla had earned herself a stern verbal lashing for her mistake.

And now the third instance of ill fortune this week—­those foulsome bells.

Silla smoothed the floral embroidery along the belt of her blue apron dress, the same worn by all of Jarl Gunnell’s domestic hands, and made her way outdoors. The jangle of iron keys signaled the arrival of Bera, Jarl Gunnell’s wife and head of the household. Silla quickly found her place in line, fingers threading tightly together as Bera counted them.

“Twelve. All right on your way, you lot,” she said in a gentle voice, ushering them out. “Let us hope this is swift. For all involved.”

A light breeze caressed Silla’s face and pulled a few chestnut coils from her tightly woven braid as she stepped along the path. For a gray day, it was pleasantly warm, the sun obscured by clouds. A wasp buzzed at her face, and she swatted it away. Birds twittered from the gardens of the homestead. It was almost peaceful for a moment. Until the following toll of the bell, long and so loud, it set Silla’s teeth on edge.

She matched her steps to the others, keeping her eyes on the blue skirts of the girl ahead of her. They walked in a single line, making their way down the rutted lane. Silla didn’t have to look to know Jarl Gunnell and his men—­warriors, stablemen, and field workers alike—­would be following behind. The jarl was one of the few members of nobility who did not use enslaved thralls brought over from Norvaland, but if he had, they would join as well. The bells were nothing if not the great equalizer, demanding the presence of every Íseldurian over ten winters of age, regardless of class.

Silla glanced toward the stables but could not see her father. He’d be there, somewhere among the field workers, in his dirt-­stained gray tunic. He’d be wiping grime from his face, worrying about her, about them, deciding they’d lingered too long in Skarstad. It would be time for a fresh start. Another one.

They walked along the packed-­dirt road and through a gate in the stockade walls of the village, past timber homes topped with thatched roofs. While orderly woodpiles were stacked neatly before the homes, the cabbage yards overflowed with kitchen herbs and vegetables. Skarstad itself was small and unremarkable, interchangeable with most towns in Sudur lands. Silla should know; she’d lived in so many of them. Neatly laid out and encircled by tall defensive walls, it held two main thoroughfares that intersected in a central, tree-­lined courtyard. The mead hall was neatly maintained, the stoops well swept, the square stained with blood.

The bells grew louder as they approached the square, each clang more menacing than the last. The sounds vibrated through Silla’s bones, ratcheting her insides tighter and tighter with each step closer. Men and women, merchants and farmers alike joined them until a throng crowded the road. At last, they rounded the corner into the central courtyard. Silla shuffled toward the towering Klaernar warrior standing by a wagon piled with jagged black rocks; he passed one out to each who entered the courtyard. Silla kept her eyes low as she waited, knowing what she’d see if she lifted her gaze. Muffled voices floated through the square, pleading. Begging.

It is in vain, she thought with distaste.

The oppressive presence of the Klaernar warrior looming before her stifled the air. Occasionally called the Claws of the King, the Klaernar were all physically imposing, and Silla kept her gaze trained on the warrior’s boots. They were worn, smudged with dirt, a sight she found oddly comforting—­proof he was, in fact, human. If she lifted her eyes, Silla knew she’d see he wore a shirt of black chain mail, punctuated by screaming bear shoulder plates in shining silver. Knew that she’d see three claw marks tattooed along the man’s right cheek.

She’d heard rumors that the second sons of Íseldur were changed not just physically once they took the claw, but mentally as well. Something happened when they went through the Ritual and pledged themselves to King Ivar and his Bear God, Ursir. No matter how diminutive their stature before the Ritual, they returned transformed—­tall and built like mountains, their newly inked faces etched in permanent scowls. It was said they carried Ursir’s blessing in their veins, which only deepened Silla’s unease.

As the King’s Claw placed a chunk of raw obsidian in her palm, Silla’s hand dipped under its weight. She stared at the flat, glossy surface. How could something be so beautiful and yet so ugly all at once?

The resounding chimes startled her from her thoughts, so loud they were near deafening in the square. Silla lurched forward, eyes darting in search of the blues of Jarl Gunnell’s help. Somehow, she had lost them. Silla lifted her eyes, just for a heartbeat, to try to get her bearings.

It was a mistake; she’d known it to be but couldn’t stop herself. Three sets of V-­shaped columns stretched up from the circular dais in the center of the square, a runic altar stone centrally positioned. Each condemned was secured to a set of wooden pillars, arms stretched wide between them, feet secured together at the base. Iron bridles muzzled their faces and smothered their voices. A pity the contraptions didn’t shield their eyes; those unfortunate souls saw it all—­the crowd, the rocks, the imminence of death. Anticipation was an equal part of the punishment, Silla supposed.

She stood on shaky legs, her gaze locking with that of the woman in the middle. Her eyes were wild with fear, the whites flashing. Heart dropping like a stone, Silla realized she was not a woman at all but a girl in her early teens. The girl’s face swam, her brown eyes dissolving to Mother’s vibrant green, urging her to look away—­

No.

With a shaky exhale, Silla forced her gaze to the ground. Now was no time for those memories to surface.

“Next!” boomed the Klaernar, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Eyes searching, Silla finally caught sight of the blues and browns to her right and made her way quickly toward the group.

The little blond girl was with them, small and out of place among Jarl Gunnell’s help. Her unkempt hair was plastered to her neck, her face smeared with dirt. Haunting blue eyes, which tilted up at the outer corners, looked at Silla as the girl fidgeted with the hem of her torn and rumpled nightdress. “You should pay better attention,” came the girl’s young voice.

Silla had tried to guess the girl’s age, and her best estimate sat at five or six winters. “And you should mind your manners,” she said absently.

“What did you say, Katrin?” asked Bera, her voice stern.

Silla’s gaze shot to Bera’s steely face. “I—­it was not you to whom I spoke,” she muttered.

“Who then? Who were you speaking to?”

Her eyes flicked back to where the girl had stood moments before—­now nothing but empty space. You’ve said enough, thought Silla, pressing her lips together. Gather your wits, Silla Margrét.

“So hard to find good help,” muttered Bera. “Lazy or touched in the head.”

Silla inhaled deeply as she looked away. Spotting a familiar blond head threaded with gray, her eyes locked onto her father’s. He seemed to sag when he saw her, as though he’d been holding his breath. Beside him stood the kindly stablehand who’d provided them with furs and a few kitchen provisions when Silla and her father had first arrived in Skarstad—­Tolvik, if memory served her. A grim smile upon his face, Tolvik’s silver head dipped, and Silla returned the gesture.

The clouds parted, sunbeams streaming down from the sky, catching sparkling minerals in the flagstones of the street and warming Silla’s back.

Mercifully, the bells stopped. Several minutes passed, and the crowd grew larger, filling the square and spilling out into side streets. Hushed conversation and restless energy descended into the courtyard; the tension was so thick, you could cleave it with an axe.

Excerpted from The Road of Bones by Demi Winters. Copyright © 2024 by Demi Winters. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

My Review

The Road of Bones is an amazing, epic fantasy full of mystery, suspense, and secrets.

From the first chapter, I was deeply enthralled in the story of Silla’s fight for safety. The harrowing journey that awaits her is fraught with danger and despair. This humble kitchen maid must find the strength and cunning to survive the Road of Bones. But as her enemies are multiplying, and her web of deceit pushes her allies farther away, Silla will need the help of the gods to save herself from a fate far worse than death. 

What an incredible read full of adventure! I ate up the pages as fast as I could, stayed up late reading until I could no longer keep my eyes open, and gasped as each secret was revealed! There are twists and turns and so much subterfuge! Hold onto your seats and pay attention, you might miss something!

This is an absolute masterpiece. I highly recommend The Road of Bones and can’t wait for the next one!

FTC Disclaimer: I voluntarily read a copy of the book generously provided by the publisher via Net Galley in exchange for an honest review. This in no way influences my thoughts or feelings about the book or the content of my review.

Purchase Links

Penguin Random House

About the Author

Lover of all things fairy tales, fantasy, and romance, Demi lives in British Columbia, Canada with her husband and two kids. When she’s not busy brainstorming fantastical worlds and morally gray love interests, Demi loves reading and cooking. Learn more at demiwinters.com