I am so excited about my stop on the LAST STAR BURNING by Caitlin Sangster blog tour, hosted by Rockstar Book Tours! I recently read and reviewed this amazing fantasy novel and I can’t wait for you to read it as well. Don’t forget to enter the giveaway at the end of the post.
Title: LAST STAR BURNING
Author: Caitlin Sangster
Pub. Date: October 10, 2017
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Formats: Hardcover, eBook
Sev is branded with the mark of a criminal—a star burned into her hand. That’s the penalty for being the daughter of the woman who betrayed their entire nation.
Now her mother’s body is displayed above Traitor’s Arch, kept in a paralyzed half sleep by the same plague that destroyed the rest of the world. And as further punishment, Sev is forced to do hard labor to prove that she’s more valuable alive than dead.
When the government blames Sev for a horrific bombing, she must escape the city or face the chopping block. Unimaginable dangers lurk outside the city walls, and Sev’s only hope of survival lies with the most unlikely person—Howl, the chairman’s son. Though he promises to lead her to safety, Howl has secrets, and Sev can’t help but wonder if he knows more about her past—and her mother’s crimes—than he lets on.
But in a hostile world, trust is a luxury. Even when Sev’s life and the lives of everyone she loves may hang in the balance.
Amazon, B&N, iBooks, TBD, Goodreads
Caitlin Sangster grew up in the back woods of California and would rather go hiking, running, swimming, or general outdoorsing than just about anything else. If there aren’t any mountains, it doesn’t count as a real place. At eighteen, she moved to XinJiang, and at twenty-one it was Taiwan. She did eventually buckle down and graduate from Brigham Young University with a BA in Asian Studies and is now that person you avoid at parties because she’ll probably start talking about Shang dynasty oracle bones.
Caitlin has been writing since middle school. She always thought of it as a silly sort of compulsive habit until she realized that people like reading stories and she liked writing them and there wasn’t much silly about that.
She currently lives in Utah with her husband and four children.
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads
The picture window I remember so clearly overlooks the staircase, stopping me as a mix of longing and revulsion fights its way up my throat. The jewel cast of the light as it filters through the paper-thin cuts of stone folds down around the rows and rows of books, their colors so familiar. A beautiful maiden is pieced together in the jade, her curls tumbling from a bed of sleep.
Mother always told the story with a dramatic sigh, as if the princess pricking her finger on the spindle and falling asleep wasn’t the tragic end to the story, just an unfortunate pause that passed her fate on to the imagination of the listener. Aya and I would make them up together, hiding under our covers, whispering back and forth until Father came with threats of no sweet bao for dessert the next day if we didn’t go to sleep. Aya would say the evil fairy would be sorry and wake her up, then become her servant as penance. Or that little birds cheeped in her ears until she woke up, and the princess threw water on her royal parents to bring them back from the spell. My favorite idea, though Aya always stuck her tongue out and wrinkled her nose whenever I told it, was that a prince would kiss her awake in true fairy-tale fashion, and the whole kingdom would open their eyes along with her, the evil fairy’s spell broken.
But that isn’t how the story ends. The princess pricks her finger, falls down as if dead, and her family and the whole kingdom rot away around her bit by bit until it’s a place of the dead, a place for ghosts and monsters. She’s the one who sought out the evil fairy, and those are the consequences. She deserves her fate.
I look up at the window. It’s a relic from Before, when we mixed books and tales with people from far away. Before the world was us against Kamar, the Outsiders who poisoned our air with SS. The picture changes every few hours, all the tiny pieces somehow rattling to a new spot like a kaleidoscope of trained butterflies.
My hand reaches toward the picture window before I can control myself, brushing the woman’s long curls. She doesn’t look like Mother, but her eyes are closed just the same. Asleep. Dead to the world, and yet still stuck here because of her crimes.
3 winners will receive an ARC of LAST STAR BURNING, US Only.
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