An outcast princess turned spy embarks on a mission to infiltrate a rival kingdom, but the secrets she uncovers force her to decide whether to follow orders or defy them. Spy. Thief. Princess. Princess Aella was ousted from the Palace of Sorrows as a child, shattering her world and forcing her to abandon the truth of her royal lineage. Instead, she was raised in The Aviary, which disguises itself as a school for orphaned children but is actually a secret order designed to train its students as spies for an intelligence network embedded throughout the Empyrieos. Now twenty-three years old and having completed her final tests, Aella is summoned to join Alpha Flight, the Aviary’s elite team of assassins that’s led by none other than her former flame, Raven. Everything about him calls to her--he’s brave, loyal, and lethal. But is Raven worth breaking the rules and risking everything she’s worked so hard to achieve? Before she can decide, the Alpha Flight team is sent on a dangerous mission that tests Aella’s resolve in every way. Her role is crucial and troublesome: she must assume her former title of Princess of the Sorrows, the identity she once had to forsake, to compete in the bridal trials held by the Prince of Eretria. As old sparks reignite and the harsh realities of the realm reveal themselves, the mission begins to unravel, and Aella must decide if she is brave enough to disobey her superiors in order to do what she believes is right. <Songbird of the Sorrows< is the first book in Myths of the Empyrieos, an epic romantic fantasy series that follows a feisty heroine through trials, a perilous heist, court intrigue, kingdom politics, and a journey of self-discovery, true love, and redemption.

Autorentext

Braidee Otto

Klappentext

**In a magical world of gods and mythical races, an outcast princess turned spy infiltrates a rival kingdom—uncovering secrets that force her to choose between obedience and defiance—in the first book of a propulsive romantic fantasy series for fans of Danielle L. Jensen’s The Bridge Kingdom series.

The dazzling first edition hardcover of Songbird of the Sorrows will feature intricately designed stenciled edges, an interior black-and-white map, and a premium jacket with gold foil—while supplies last!**

“An addictive new romantic fantasy that combines beautiful world-building, a thrilling combination of heist and trials, and a toe-curling forbidden romance.”—Demi Winters, author of The Ashen Series

Ask no questions. Obey your orders. Respect your masters. But most of all, love no one.

Spy. Thief. Princess. Songbird.

Banished from the Palace of Sorrows as a child, Princess Aella was taken in by the Aviary, a secret intelligence network embedded throughout the Empyrieos that trains orphans as professional spies. Now twenty-three years old, she has finally earned her place as a Songbird on the most elite team of assassins, led by none other than her former flame, Raven. Everything about him calls to her—he’s brave, loyal, and lethal—but their relationship is also the greatest threat to her standing as a Songbird.

Before Aella can untangle her feelings, their team is sent on a dangerous mission to the eastern kingdom, a land that ever since the horrific God War has been the enemy of her homeland. Aella’s role is crucial yet troublesome: she must assume her former title of Princess of the Sorrows to compete in a series of bridal trials. But when the trials turn deadly and the mission is threatened, Aella must decide whether to follow orders or defy them.

Songbird of the Sorrows is the first novel in the sweeping, romantic Myths of the Empyrieos series, following Aella through an epic journey of self-discovery, true love, redemption, and ultimately a great war that promises to upend the lives of everyone in the realm.

Don’t miss the next book in the series, Daughter of the Tempest, coming October 2026!

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

I was born dead.

Before the gods saw fit to grant me life. Before my mother surrendered her soul to save mine.

Perhaps it was my first dance with death that made me so reckless. Maybe it choreographed my perception of life itself. Propelling me ­toward choices others—­in their sanity—­would avoid.

But even I have to admit, this was a terrible idea. It may be the worst idea I’ve ever conjured up.

My arms tremble from the strain of the aether trying to force my body back toward solid ground, and my fingers ache as I dig them deeper into the crevices between the stones and mortar. A trickle of sweat trails down my spine, pooling at the base of my back, another tickling its way down my heated forehead.

I ignore it all, straining as I pull myself higher.

One hand over the other.

One steadying breath after the last.

I am strong enough for this.

The wind caresses my body as I cling to the side of the tower. Not a threat to make me fall, but a promise to catch me if I do. The sensation is reassuring, but as the toe of my sandal slips from my newest foothold, my heart still jumps to my throat.

I draw in a deep breath, tightening my grip on the wall. With every ounce of determination I possess, I bring my body closer, my foot frantically seeking another dent in the surface. The rush of my blood thunders through my ears with each drawn-­out moment, until my sandal notches into place. Cautiously, I lean into it, testing the crack with my weight to be sure it will hold. When it does, I breathe a sigh of relief, leaning my forehead against the sun-­warmed stone.

It’s not the height that scares me. It’s not even the risk of falling. It’s the fact that I’m running out of time.

Do not be seen.

That was the order.

Scaling one of the tallest towers in the Sorrows may not be the most effective strategy—­unless you know its secrets as well as I do.

Every day as the sun sets and the afternoon light hits this same wall, its white-­painted bricks light up like a beacon. If you try looking at it too hard—­or too long—­your eyes water, and your vision will blur. It’s almost impossible to watch, and even more unlikely to spot a lone figure clinging to its side. The white linen clothing I wear only adds to my camouflage.

But neither of those things will prove to be helpful if this takes too long. The sun will soon set, and with it, my opportunity.

With that sobering thought, I turn my gaze up toward the seventh-­floor window a short distance above me. The arched shutters are thrown open, inviting the evening breeze inside. I fight the victorious smile attempting to break free and assess the cracks that stand out like blackened scars against stone, mapping the rest of my upward journey.

And then I move.

It takes a few moments to reach the window ledge, and the white glow of the tower fades with each fervent beat of my heart. Still, I pause, closing my eyes and listening for any sounds within.

Beautiful silence.

Exhaling, I clutch the ledge with one hand, then the other. My stomach flutters as my feet come away from the wall, and I hoist myself up to get a visual.

The soft glow of the sun shining over my shoulder bathes the room, causing the sparse furniture within to mask the corners in darkness. Three men in the center cast the longest shadows, their focus on the door in front of them as they wait in silence.

I recognize the man in the middle. With his close-­cropped hair, lean form standing tall, and arms clasped behind his back, Master Bittern looks like a soldier standing at attention. I’m unfamiliar with the other two. But the white robes they wear tell me it’s because they spend most of …