The North Wind by Alexandria Warwick plus a giveaway

The North Wind
Alexandria Warwick
(The Four Winds, #1)
Publication date: January 13th 2022
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Romance

Lush. Dark. Romantic. Introducing a newly reimagined tale written in the vein of Beauty and the Beast and Hades and Persephone.

Long before civilization, there were the gods. And before the gods, there was the earth, the celestial bodies, and air given flesh. They are the Anemoi—the Four Winds—and they have been banished to the four corners of the world.

Wren of Edgewood is no stranger to suffering. Her parents are gone. Survival is all she knows. For three hundred years, the land known as the Gray has been encased in ice, surrounded by a great barrier called the Shade, which protects the townsfolk from the Deadlands beyond.

But day by day, the Shade weakens.

Only one thing can stop the Shade’s fall: a mortal woman taken captive across the barrier, bound in wedlock to the dark god who reigns over the Deadlands. He is the North Wind, the Frost King, an immortal whose heart is said to be as frigid as the land he rules.

And the time has come for the Frost King to choose his bride.

The North Wind is a standalone, enemies-to-lovers fantasy romance, the first in a series sprinkled with Greek lore. Perfect for fans of Jennifer L. Armentrout, Laura Thalassa, and Scarlett St. Clair.

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Excerpt

“Orla will see to your needs,” he says, producing a brass key and unlocking the door. “These are your chambers. Once you’re settled, you may roam the citadel freely, but you may not pass beyond the wall.”

“You don’t trust me?” I already know the answer. I’m just curious of his reaction.

“No.” His eyelashes lower, dark fringe upon pale cheekbones. “Run, and you will not get far. The forest dislikes my presence as it is. The citadel is the safest place for you.”

He speaks as though the forest is sentient. I tuck that piece of information away to examine at a later time. “And where are your rooms?”

“They are located in the north wing, which you are not to enter.”

He pushes open the door, but I hesitate in stepping across the threshold. “What happens after we are married? Am I expected to share your bed?” I’m not even sure he would be gentle in his bedding. I can’t forget that slithering black emotion I glimpsed back at Edgewood, something feral lurking in the background.

“You will not need to worry about that. We keep separate chambers.” With that, he nudges me through and snaps the door shut behind me. Soon enough, his footsteps die. I try the ornately carved handle. It doesn’t budge.

I’m locked in.

“You bastard!” I scream, pounding the solid wood. My sedate mask slips free, and I grow wild, slamming my fist against the barrier.

Breathing hard, I step away to study the room. My room. Chambers, rather, with their vaulted ceilings and distant walls. Enormous, like the rest of this place. And cold. It is like a corpse, the ribs pried open, the cavern empty where a heart once thrummed. The furniture all but sags under the dripping opulence, heavy, solid-colored fabric in saturated reds and golds to match the bedding. Gilded mirrors. A gleaming four-poster bed frame, dark red wood. A fireplace with a wide, empty mouth. Rugs, so many rugs, exquisitely plush. Doorways that lead to interconnecting rooms.

A sudden wave of fatigue drags me down, and I sag onto the mattress, scrubbing my chapped hands down my equally chapped face. The chill air scratches at my skin, and I am alone.

I am alone.

My teeth begin to chatter. Curling my arms around my cramping stomach, I hunch forward, rocking back and forth, yet comfort evades me. I am a mortal woman in a dark god’s realm. I have no family, no support. Am I to remain here for the next forty, fifty, sixty years? Is this how I will die? A prisoner, an animal in a cage? I’ll never be able to return to my old life. Not while the Frost King lives.

The rocking motion slows, and I stare at the curtain-veiled windows with a frown. Something compels me to stride toward them and take the thick fabric in hand. With a mighty yank, I tear the curtains from their rods.

The sudden brightness makes me flinch. I assess the moonlit courtyard below with a critical eye, noting the stables to the left, the thick, towering wall, the black iron gates, the barren landscape beyond the enclosed grounds.

Not while the Frost King lives.

I came here expecting to die. But I have never been, and never will be, weak.

And so I return to books. I return to knowledge. I return to what I know, information gathered over the years, the tales and stories passed down.

This is what I know: the North Wind is a god. His power is limitless. He is immortal, can live forever, unless he is killed. But a god cannot die by a mortal-made weapon.

It’s why the knife in his gut didn’t kill him. Only a god-touched weapon has the power to end an immortal life, a tool created by the gods, for the gods. There is the spear he wields, its strange, alien power. The dagger sheathed at his hip.

He cannot know of the serpent he has released from its nest. For years I have suffered, my people have suffered, but now I am in the unique position to sever this snake at its head. If the Frost King dies, so does his eternal cold. So do the darkwalkers. So, too, does the Shade.

Only then will I be free.

Author Bio:

Alexandria Warwick is the #1 fan of Avatar: The Last Airbender. She is the author of The Demon Race and the North series.

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