In a shabby house, on a shabby street, in the new capital of Madrid, Luzia Cotado uses scraps of magic to get through her days of endless toil as a scullion. But when her scheming mistress discovers the lump of a servant cowering in the kitchen is actually hiding a talent for little miracles, she demands Luzia use those gifts to improve the family's social position. What begins as simple amusement for the nobility takes a perilous turn when Luzia garners the notice of Antonio Pérez, the disgraced secretary to Spain's king. Still reeling from the defeat of his armada, the king is desperate for any advantage in the war against England's heretic queen—and Pérez will stop at nothing to regain the king's favor.
Bardugo brilliantly explores the wavy line between the supernatural and the divine ... When Bardugo chooses to venture further into the darkness, it’s that much more devastating because of how much fun the reader has been having. In fact, she is a master of anticlimax: She builds apprehension for huge events that do not come to pass, then blindsides the reader with something totally unexpected instead ... A thrilling addition to her canon about oppression and liberation, and anyone interested in this historical period and the themes she’s exploring will find it engrossing.
Richly drawn ... Reading Bardugo is an immersive, sensual experience ... One can’t help sinking into Luzia and Santángel’s world and wishing never to leave.
A rich and lyrical mix of genres and tropes ... This is not a book I suspect many of us would have expected Bardugo to write—the magical elements, while important, are not truly the story’s primary focus—but its absorbing mix of real-life history, complex female characters, entertaining wordplay, and generational resilience makes for a genuinely enchanting whole ... Deft ... Bardugo’s book is thoughtfully grounded in realistic details from the era ... Is there anything Leigh Bardugo can’t do?
