An Alchemy of Masques and Mirrors Is an Epic Mystery for the Musketeer in All of Us

Princess Isabelle des Zephyrs, cousin to Le Roi of l’Empire Céleste, suffered a dramatic, nearly fatal birth. In a land ruled by superstition, she was born with only one finger on one hand, surely a sign that she was born cursed and deserved an immediate, merciful death. Jean-Claude, a King’s Own Musketeer, manipulates the child’s acceptance into the royal family, saving her life but earning the ire of the king, who punishes him with the order to serve the baby Isabelle for the rest of his life. It’s a fortunate thing for the girl, as it turns out she lacks the powers of the Sanguinaire—the particular sorcery of her bloodline—a fate far worse than missing fingers. Jean-Claude proves an admirable substitute father when Isabelle’s own turns out to be beyond cruel, and his dry wit and resourcefulness help keep the plot moving as political intrigues pile up around the pair.
As a grown woman, Isabelle believes she’s been saved from the machinations of her father when the mysterious artifex Kantelvar arrives from the rival Kingdom of Aragoth with an interesting proposal–a political marriage to Principe Julio, a prince of Aragoth. But the offer does not come without strings: Julio and his brother Alejandro are at war with one another, with their mother Queen Margarite pulling the strings to get her natural-born son Julio to supplant Alejandro, the Aragothan king’s eldest son, as heir. Alejandro’s wife is unable to bear a child, but Alejandro refuses to put her aside for the sake of producing an heir. The motive behind Kantelvar’s involvement is murky at first, but as Isabelle and Jean-Claude risk their lives digging ever deeper into the intrigue and magic, the truth of the plot become clearer, and the two must make hard decisions as they’re caught up in a deadly war of succession—not to mention the mystery of who is trying to kill Isabelle on her way to her wedding.
Craddock’s worldbuilding blew me away. In a relatively slim page count for an epic, he hints at a deep, layered planetary history—its physics, the origins of its culture—that threaten to push the book into the realm of science fiction. There are references to the Breaker of Worlds, this universe’s equivalent of the devil of Christianity, set against a pantheon of Saints who lived through the breaking of the world and witnessed what these two cultures refer to as the Primus Mundi; leftover artifacts from the Primus Mundi, both mysterious and deadly, seem to hint at a bounty of forgotten technology. The Saints appeared to posses the last of this technological knowledge, which may or may not have provided the genesis for the magical powers possessed by different bloodlines. I’m aching to know more about this world’s history, but more importantly, to discover how it ultimately ties in with the fates of Isabelle and Julio.
Speaking of magic systems, the dark nature of l’Empire Céleste’s particular form of hereditary magic is a dark delight that stands out in the genre. Sanguinaires feed off of the lifeforce of regular mortals—people they refer to as “clayborn”—using what they call “bloodshadows.” It’s all very elegant, violent, and a touch vampiric. In Aragoth, the elite bloodlines carry an ability called Glasswalking.; these creepy, silver-eyed individuals travel from place to place using mirrors and reflections. Both of these intensely interesting, original sorceries are integral to the mystery at hand—a mystery Agatha Christie’s Poirot might relish solving, were he to find himself rather quite far from home.
An Alchemy of Masques and Mirrors is available now.