“I see you staring at him,” Nicasia says, sitting down beside me.Holly Black is having a well-deserved moment in YA fantasy right now, following the phenomenal success of her The Folk of the Air series.

When I look up, Locke holds a single gold coin, perhaps part of a lost mortal ship’s hoard. I frown at my plate, at the beads of sea glass I find beneath my fish’s gills.

The cooks are summoned, but they give stammering disavowals, swearing the fish were fresh-caught and fed nothing but herbs by the kitchen Folk. “A gift from the sea.” Each silvery fish contains a treasure. “I see my fish has something in its belly.” “And mine,” says a courtier on his other side, picking out a single shiny pearl as large as a thumbnail. “Ah,” says Cardan, lifting up a gold ring from his plate. She kicks up her hooved feet and throws back her horned head in laughter. I see that Locke has seated himself beside Cardan, drawing the girl whose seat it was onto his lap. All around me, the domes rise, and the smoke, redolent of peppercorns and herbs, fills the room. I look across the table at Randalin, Minister of Keys, but he is pointedly ignoring me. “From the Undersea,” says one of the cooks, dressed for the occasion. Then come domes of glass, under which little silvery fish sit in a cloud of pale blue smoke. Another course comes, with sugared violets and frozen dew. Glow aquamarine and sapphire, citrine and ruby, amethyst and topaz. I think of my mother’s wedding, too, the vows she must have made to Madoc, and abruptly a shiver goes through me that I hope has nothing to do with premonition. “ So what do we do?” I think of Taryn’s wedding and the part of the ceremony we did not witness. I roll my eyes, grateful that he’s acting like himself again, so I can better pretend not to be overawed by what’s about to happen.

“ That’s not what I mean.” “Marriage to the High King of Elfhame is largely thought to be a prize, a honor of which few are worthy.” I suppose his sincerity could last but only so long. “I had no idea it would be such a sacrifice.” Frustrated, I flop over on the couch. I’ll marry you.” He gives me a wicked grin. “To what are you agreeing?” “Okay,” I say. “Yes.” He leans forward in the chair, eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t wear his usual arrogant mien. Maybe I wouldn’t have to be scared of all the things I’ve been scared of my whole life, of being diminished and weak and lesser. Maybe I wouldn’t have to be afraid to love him.

I imagine what it would be like to have my own crown, my own power.

Kin by Holly Black