Roshani Chokshi

'Gorgeous and ornate' Holly Black 'Lingers like a fever dream' V.E. Schwab Inside every story is a secret. Inside every marriage is a lie. A sumptuous, gothic story about a marriage unraveled by dark secrets, a friendship cursed to end in tragedy, and the danger of believing in fairy tales - the breathtaking adult debut from New York Times bestselling author Roshani Chokshi. Once upon a time, a man who believed in fairy tales married a beautiful, mysterious woman named Indigo Maxwell-Casteñada. He was a scholar of myths. She was heiress to a fortune. They exchanged gifts and stories and believed they would live happily ever after - and in exchange for her love, Indigo extracted a promise: that her bridegroom would never pry into her past. But when Indigo learns that her estranged aunt is dying and the couple is forced to return to her childhood home, the House of Dreams, the bridegroom soon finds himself unable to resist. For within the crumbling manor's extravagant rooms and musty halls, there lurks the shadow of another girl: Azure, Indigo's dearest childhood friend, who disappeared without a trace. As the house slowly reveals his wife's secrets, the bridegroom will be forced to choose between reality and fantasy, even if doing so threatens to destroy their marriage . . . or their lives. Combining the lush, haunting atmosphere of Mexican Gothic with the dreamy enchantment of The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, The Last Tale of the Flower Bride is a spellbinding and darkly romantic page-turner about love and lies, secrets and betrayal, and the stories we tell ourselves to survive. 'A fairy tale in the oldest and truest sense' Alix E. Harrow 'A shimmering tapestry' Yangsze Choo 'Dark, haunting, and thrumming with mystery, magic, and love' Sue Lynn Tan 'An opulent, engrossing tale' Kiran Millwood Hargrave 'Darkly gorgeous and utterly entrancing' Shannon Chakraborty

The Last Tale of the Flower Bride

Rina

This was not about a boy. This was about theft. The theft of a dream wrought solely for me.

Some individuals are like portals, the knowing of them makes the world a far vaster place. 

Until Indigo, I was lost in that search, hidden in my own thoughts. But she saw something in me. Something that turned her kiss into a knife that cut me free from the dark.

All I knew was that together we were greater than ourselves. Together we were boundless, oceanic. Together, we commanded the heft of a planet. We were impossible to outrun.

Jodie Reads

rhythm. It said: Here is the dialect of the living and I am luing alongside you. It said: I know this, to0, and I can share it with you.

You can know a person in totality-as they are revealed in the angle of light hitting your eyes, in a poem of photons and parti- cles, in the particular wavelengths adjusted to your height, the contours of your nostrils, the private landscape of your synapses. Your mind makes a map of them and even barefoot and blind- folded, this terrain becomes a truth. And it is a truth. But only at an angle.

It was once upon a tinne. That was all it was. A prayer and a promise in one. A single page composed of the past.

"Reality is what you make of your surroundings. And the world outside my own cannot touch me."

THE SILVERED SERPENTS FLASHBACKS AHAHHHHH

"We can play at gods," she said. "What do you say... will you play with me?"

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