by Irena Brignull
-Fantasy, YA, Witches
Release date: August 15, 2017
Amazon | Goodreads
From screenwriter Irena Brignull, the stunning sequel to her critically acclaimed YA debut, The Hawkweed Prophecy ("Full of romance, heart and suspense...completely absorb[ing]." -Madeleine Roux) about a young witch forced to choose between love and magic.
Poppy is discovering a purpose for her powers in Africa, but she is haunted by a vision of her own death. Taken in by a boy and his great-grandmother, a healer, they vow to keep her safe-even if that ultimately means holding her captive. But Poppy never stops longing for Leo and, when she feels his magic begin to spark, she will do anything to be reunited with him.
Desperate to regain Poppy's trust and bring her home, Charlock embarks on a plan to reunite Leo with his mother. What Charlock doesn't foresee are the string of consequences that she sets into motion that leave Ember all alone and prey to manipulation, the clan open to attack from other witches, Sorrel vulnerable to Raven's ghost, Betony determined to protect her son from his father's fate, and which leave both Leo and Poppy in terrible danger.
Excerpt: Chapter 5
Young Charlock
Eighteen years ago...
Every year, the coming of spring was greeted by a celebration from the coven. On the last day of winter, the sisters wished for night to fall quickly for then the preparations would be over and the merriment could begin. As if mindful of its unpopularity, the sun hardly bothered to show itself through the clouds and day stitched to darkness almost seamlessly. Immediately, circle upon circle of candles were lit in readiness for the night’s festivities. For this eve was not for sleeping. The coven had taken to their beds that afternoon in order to remain awake the whole night through. Fires were burning and hogs roasting. Cider was being poured. Young witches were practising spells for their displays.
Now that they were seventeen, Charlock and her friend, Betony, were responsible for lighting the candles.
“We’re lucky there’s no breeze tonight,” murmured Charlock as she admired the tiny flames.
“Your sister has made certain of that, most likely,” joked Betony. “It is not just us she bosses but the weather too.” Charlock smiled, then looked around guiltily to see if Raven might be watching. “Don’t fear her so,” whispered Betony. “You are a Hawkweed too.”
Charlock shrugged. “Not the one that matters,” she said simply, without complaint.
It was true. She was the younger, softer sister, a witch with only moderate magic. Raven, on the other hand, was already the most powerful witch their clan had ever known. As if able to hear these silent thoughts, her sister turned her head and peered at Charlock from across the camp. Charlock waved her hand in nervous greeting but Raven only narrowed her eyes before returning her attention to her young daughter, Sorrel. Betony moved closer to Charlock in a show of solidarity. The pressure and warmth of her friend’s side against her own were comforting, as were Betony’s words.
(continue excerpt here)
