Spotlight & Giveaway: The Starlight Heir by Amalie Howard

Today, HJ is pleased to share with you Amalie Howard’s new release: The Starlight Heir

A bladesmith blessed by the stars. A prince with a dangerous secret. A god bound in shadows. From USA Today bestselling author Amalie Howard comes a scorching new romantasy that will leave you spellbound.

“His Imperial Majesty, King Zarek requests your presence as his esteemed guest.”

When the gold-dusted court invitation arrives at Suraya Saab’s forge, she believes it’s a joke. Nobles might seek her skills as a bladesmith—one of few who can imbue her work with precious jadu, the last source of magic in the realm—but she has no qualifications as a potential bride for the crown prince. Still, the invitation is the chance at adventure, and the means to finally visit the capital city her late mother loved.

But what awaits her in Kaldari is nothing she could have imagined—and fraught with danger. It’s not the crown prince, but his impossibly handsome, illegitimate half-brother, Roshan, who captures her interest…and her ire. The invitation isn’t a quest to find a suitable bride, but a veiled hunt for the Starkeeper—a girl rumored to hold the magic of the stars in her blood. And across the city, unrest is brewing between the noble houses and the rebel militia.

When the rebels attack, Suraya and Roshan find themselves on the run, trying to deny their simmering attraction and the knowledge that Suraya herself might be the Starkeeper. But Roshan is guarding secrets of his own. And with no control over the power stirring within her, Suraya has drawn the attention of a dark god, an immortal whose interest might be the biggest threat of all.

Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from The Starlight Heir 

I glance over at the gardener who’d been the harbinger of my misfortune, my humiliation intensifying at the teasing glint in his eyes. “What do you know?” I snap.

One well-formed shoulder lifts in an indolent shrug. “I suppose I know my place here. The real question is do you, Lady Suraya Saab of House Aldebaran?”

The truth stings, but he’s not wrong. This is the royal courtyard, not the inn in Coban; I’d behaved like a boorish country bumpkin, and I know my behavior will be nothing but fodder for juicy gossip. I force back a rush of self-pity as the man standing beside me hands me the now dusty headdress that Laleh had crafted so carefully.

“Thank you,” I mutter, and then glance around, still feeling the press of many eyes, not just from the women but from the guards. The way they’d reacted earlier, as if I were running to attack the queen. Me. “Are there so many guards because of the Dahaka and what happened yesterday?” I blurt out.

Face inscrutable, he follows my gaze. “Yes.” “They thought I was a threat?” I ask.

“Well, you were running hell-bent toward our esteemed sovereign,” he replies, putting his hands into his pockets and lifting his brows.

“I was only trying to get my veil!”

He purses his lips with solemn gravitas. “With the most murder- ous look on your face. Even I was scared for my life.”

Beyond irritated, I glower at him. “You should be the court jester.” His eyes gleam with humor. “Goals!”
The amusement is tempered slightly by the barest hint of empathy in their warm golden-brown depths. Then I curse myself for noticing any emotion in those pretty gold-flecked eyes in the first place. Or that they’re pretty at all. In fact, they looked like gold-flecked mud. Mud-flecked mud, even.

Yes, that’s much better.

My gaze drifts down the rest of his face, taking in the untidy sable scruff on his hard jaw, a slightly hooked nose, and the lushest lips I’ve ever seen on a man. It’s just my luck that this nosy palace worker is more attractive than any of the men in Coban. Unfairly so.

“The queen doesn’t like you,” he says idly.

“Thank you for enlightening me,” I lash out. “Don’t you have work to do? A tree to trim or something?”

“Don’t worry,” he says with a crooked smile. “She doesn’t like any- one.”

“Not even you?” “Especially me.”

I frown at the strange answer. “Why?”

“I expect because I’m not very good with my tree-trimming duties.”

Maybe it’s his sardonic answer or the hint of a smirk on his lips, but I get the sudden sense that I’m the butt of some unspecified joke that amuses him greatly. My simmering anger finds an easy target. “Then perhaps you should focus on doing your job instead of pre- tending to fall off walls and ogling people.”
“Is that so?” he says, lips parting into a fuller smile and drawing my attention to his slightly crooked white front teeth. I ignore the fact that I find the imperfection appealing, as well as the appearance of a deep dimple in his left cheek that gives him a boyish look, though he’s older than me for sure. Maybe late twenties. “What if I like ogling people?” he says, eyes sparkling with mirth, most likely at my expense.

“There are better ways to entertain yourself.”

“I don’t know about that. I like to imagine things about the people I see.”
Unable to resist, I point to one of the women who had laughed at me earlier. “What do you imagine about her?”

An obscenely thick fringe of sooty eyelashes sweeps down as he squints in her direction, and I have a moment of pure envy, wish- ing mine were half as long. “House of Regulus. She’s the daughter of a powerful alderman and a doctor. She, too, has an aptitude for medicine, but wants more than the life of her parents. She dreams of running away and being rescued by a handsome prince.”

“That’s original.” I wrinkle my nose. “You know, not every woman wants to be rescued by some prince. Perhaps she’ll rescue herself.”

The gardener nods, clasping his hands behind his back as if we’re having a scintillating debate. “I thought every girl dreamed of being rescued by a prince.”

“Maybe when they’re five. As they get older, they learn that men— gardeners and princes alike—are arrogant, self-absorbed, and over- rated.”

His eyes settle on me, an enigmatic expression flicking across that stupidly handsome face. “Good to know.”

“And what do you imagine when you look at me?” The question falls from my lips before I can stop it, and I immediately want to kick myself.

The gardener studies me with such obvious relish at the opening I’ve given him that I almost groan. He strokes his scruffy chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I see someone who has never left her home before.” My mouth tightens, a biting retort at the ready, but the man continues, his mischievous gaze sliding to my gloveless fingers. Intrigue flares in his eyes for a brief moment, and I turn my wrist to hide the small burn scars from my kiln, the freshest of them still raised and red. “The daughter of a blacksmith or a weapons maker. I see a strong spirit and liking for honest hard work. You wear your heart on your sleeve and you don’t trust easily. You aim to please, but I also see fire and an impetuous will.”

Taken aback, I can’t decide whether he means to be insulting. The corner of his mouth tips up, and I gather that he’s baiting me. I arch an eyebrow and keep my tone even. “You see all that from looking at me?”

“You asked. So, was I right?”

“You couldn’t be further from the truth. My father owns an inn in Coban—the finest inn in all of Coban, in fact. My heart is in my body where it belongs, I don’t trust strangers, and I aspire only to please myself.” I frown, oddly irritated at the succinct and too-close- to-home summary. “You should stick to tree trimming. People don’t like being stared at. Or judged.”

Excerpt. ©Amalie Howard. Posted by arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.
 
 

Giveaway:  A Finished copy of THE STARLIGHT HEIR to two winners (US-only)

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Meet the Author:

Amalie Howard is a USA Today and Publishers Weekly bestselling romance author. She is also the author of several award-winning young adult novels. Her books have been featured in The Hollywood Reporter, Entertainment Weekly, and Seventeen Magazine. When she’s not writing, she can usually be found reading, being the president of her one-woman Harley Davidson motorcycle club, or power-napping. She lives in Colorado with her family.

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