By V. E. Schwab
STEP right into a UNIVERSE OF bold experience, exciting strength, AND a number of LONDONS.
Kell is without doubt one of the final Travelers-magicians with a unprecedented, coveted skill to go back and forth among parallel universes, attached by way of one magical city.
There's gray London, soiled and uninteresting, with none magic, and with one mad king-George III. purple London, the place lifestyles and magic are revered-and the place Kell was once raised along Rhys Maresh, the rougish inheritor to a flourishing empire. White London-a position the place humans struggle to manage magic, and the magic fights again, draining the town to its very bones. And as soon as upon a time, there has been Black London. yet nobody speaks of that now.
Officially, Kell is the pink visitor, ambassador of the Maresh empire, sporting the per thirty days correspondences among the royals of every London. Unofficially, Kell is a smuggler, servicing humans keen to pay for even the smallest glimpses of an international they will by no means see. it is a defiant pastime with risky outcomes, which Kell is now seeing firsthand.
Fleeing into gray London, Kell runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. She first robs him, then saves him from a dangerous enemy, and eventually forces Kell to spirit her to a different global for a formal adventure.
Now perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at each flip. to avoid wasting the entire worlds, they're going to first have to remain alive.
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Extra info for A Darker Shade of Magic: A Novel
He was still wearing the brown and fraying coat from the Stone’s Throw, as opposed to his uniform. He hadn’t forgotten; he’d simply wanted to enjoy the fair, just for a few minutes, as one of the pilgrims or locals. But the ruse was at an end. He could feel the news ripple through the crowd, the mood shifting like a tide as the patrons of the Night Market realized who was among them. By the time he let go of the woman’s arm, the crowd was parting for him, the laughter and shouting reduced to reverent whispers.
The river soon came into sight, a streak of black in the night as church bells rang out in the distance, eight of them in all. Time to go. He reached the brick wall of a shop that faced the water, and stopped in its shadow, pushing up his sleeve. His arm had started to ache from the first two cuts, but he drew out his knife and carved a third, touching his fingers first to the blood and then to the wall. One of the cords around his throat held a red lin, like the one King George had returned to him that afternoon, and he took hold of the coin and pressed it to the blood on the bricks.
The room was stiflingly warm—the windows latched despite what looked like a lovely October day—and a fire raged oppressively in the hearth. George III sat beside it, a robe dwarfing his withered frame and a tea tray untouched before his knees. When Kell came in, the king gripped the edges of his chair. ” he called out without turning. “Robbers? ” “I don’t believe ghosts would answer, Your Majesty,” said Kell, announcing himself. The ailing king broke into a rotting grin. “Master Kell,” he said.
A Darker Shade of Magic: A Novel by V. E. Schwab