There is a difference between a book containing a sapphic character and a book a sapphic romance.

The first describes representation. A woman or nonbinary character experiences attraction to women or nonbinary people. The second asks where the story places its emotional weight. Whose desire shapes the narrative? Which relationships receive time, tenderness, conflict, and growth? Whose interior life matters?

A character might identify as lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, or queer. Their presence matters. Representation matters. Yet identity alone does not tell us what the book centers.

What makes a book feel sapphic to you? Is the feeling rooted in romance, desire, community, identity, perspective, or some combination of all five?

Sapphic is an Umbrella, Not a Checklist

First let’s get this out of the way, sapphic does NOT mean lesbian. The umbrella includes lesbians, bisexual and pansexual women, queer women, and some nonbinary people whose identities connect with the term. Protecting the meaning of sapphic should never require excluding bisexual, trans, or nonbinary people.

At the same time, an inclusive umbrella still needs a center.

A bisexual woman remains sapphic when she dates a man. Her identity does not change according to her partner. A romantic relationship between her and a man is still not a sapphic relationship. Both statements can be true at the same time.

This distinction helps us talk about books with greater accuracy. A story about a bisexual woman choosing between a woman and a man might explore sapphic desire. A polyamorous romance involving women and a man might contain a sapphic relationship within its larger romantic structure. Those elements do not automatically make “sapphic romance” a complete description of the book.

What information helps you decide whether a book meets your expectations? Do you want the description to name a male love interest, a mixed-gender relationship, or a male endgame before you begin reading?

When I ask whether a book feels sapphic, I am less interested in counting characters and more interested in following the story’s attention.

Which relationship receives the slow glances, the tension, the vulnerability, and the emotional payoff? Which character gets to be fully known? Whose desire changes the direction of the story? Who becomes the destination rather than a temporary stop along the way?

A sapphic romance should place a sapphic relationship at the center of its romantic arc. A sapphic fantasy or horror novel does not need a central romance, but sapphic identity, desire, relationships, or community should hold meaningful narrative importance. A character mentioning an ex-girlfriend once does not create the same reading experience as a story shaped by sapphic life.

This does not require every sapphic character to receive a happy ending. Sapphic stories deserve tragedy, horror, rage, messiness, obsession, ambition, and moral failure. We should have access to the full range of human storytelling. The concern begins when sapphic desire functions as decoration, bait, or temporary conflict while heterosexuality receives the emotional resolution.

Think about the last book you described as sapphic. What part of the reading experience led you to use the word?

The Sapphic Gaze Matters

A book often feels sapphic through perspective. The story notices women and nonbinary people as subjects of desire rather than objects placed on display.

The difference often appears in small details. A character notices another person’s hands, laugh, confidence, softness, strength, or way of taking up space. Desire grows through attention and recognition. Attraction belongs to the character experiencing the feeling rather than an imagined male audience watching from outside the scene.

Sexual content alone does not create a sapphic gaze. A closed-door romance might feel deeply sapphic because the story understands longing, fear, recognition, and intimacy. An explicit scene might feel disconnected from sapphic experience when written through heterosexual assumptions about bodies, roles, or pleasure.

Which details make attraction feel believable to you? What helps a scene feel intimate rather than performative?

Community Matters Too

Sapphic life involves more than romantic partnership. Friendship, chosen family, intergenerational connection, community conflict, and shared cultural knowledge often shape the experience.

Some books feel sapphic because the characters exist inside a queer world. They know other queer people. They have language for themselves. They argue about identity and politics. They build friendships, attend community events, care for each other, and negotiate belonging. Other stories focus on isolation, closeting, or being the only queer person in the room. Those stories still belong, though isolation should not remain the only version of sapphic life publishers value.

Community also gives characters room to be complicated. One person does not need to represent every lesbian, bisexual woman, trans woman, or nonbinary person. A larger queer cast allows disagreement, humor, desire, jealousy, tenderness, and failure without turning one character into a symbol for an entire group.

Do you prefer sapphic books with a strong queer community around the main character? How does the presence or absence of community change your reading experience?

Who Gets Desired Matters

Questions about sapphic representation must also include race, disability, body size, gender presentation, class, and trans identity.

Publishing often treats white, thin, nondisabled, conventionally feminine queer women as the easiest version of sapphic identity to market. Their stories receive greater permission to feel universal. Black sapphic characters, especially dark-skinned, fat, disabled, trans, working-class, or masculine-presenting Black characters, face a different standard. Their books are more likely to be framed as narrow, educational, or intended for a limited audience.

A story does not become meaningfully inclusive through the presence of a marginalized character alone. We still need to ask whether the character receives interiority, desire, tenderness, agency, and a future.

Who gets to be wanted without needing to become more palatable first? Who receives softness without losing complexity? Who gets to be messy and still worthy of love?

Reader Trust Matters

Genre labels create expectations. A reader choosing a sapphic romance expects the central romantic relationship to be sapphic. A reader choosing an FFM romance expects a man to participate in the central relationship. A reader choosing a bisexual love triangle should receive clear information about the romantic possibilities and, when appropriate, the ending structure.

Clear labeling does not police anyone’s identity. Clear labeling respects readers and gives each story language suited to its actual center. It allows the reader to consent to what they are reading.

Authors and publishers sometimes worry about spoilers, but a romantic structure is not the same as a plot twist. Readers often choose romance based on the relationship promised by the category. Concealing a male partner or male endgame from marketing aimed at sapphic readers does not create a clever surprise. Concealment breaks trust.

What does honest marketing look like to you? Which details belong in a book description, content note, or author post before release?

There is No Single Sapphic Story

Sapphic books do not need one approved tone, genre, relationship model, or ending. We need cozy romances and devastating horror. We need monogamous couples, polyamorous relationships, asexual partnerships, messy breakups, lifelong friendships, erotic joy, and characters with no interest in romance. We need women saving kingdoms, becoming villains, solving murders, raising children, building communities, and making terrible decisions with their whole chests.

The goal is not sameness. The goal is meaningful centrality.

A book feels sapphic when sapphic life shapes the story rather than appearing as a decorative detail. Sapphic desire receives room to exist on its own terms. Sapphic characters hold narrative power. Their relationships matter. Their choices move the plot. Their inner lives receive attention. The story understands them as full people rather than proof of diversity.

So I want to hear from you.

What makes a book feel sapphic to you?

Does the central relationship matter most, or does perspective matter more?

Have you read a book with a sapphic character that still felt centered around men or heterosexuality?

Which book gave you the strongest feeling of being inside a fully realized sapphic world?

What kinds of sapphic stories are you still waiting to read?

Hey, y'all! Wanted to pop in and give you a list of upcoming releases we're excited for! We are so close to being able to list books on our site--we're getting the LLC and everything this upcoming week!

Upcoming releases to watch for!

• It Looks Like You in the Dark by Mathilda Zeller (SO GOOD)

• What Feeds Below by Tatiana Schlote-Bonne (PLEASE OMG)

• Lethal Kiss by Taylor Grothe (SERIOUSLY)

• Victorious by VE Schwab (THAT ENDING!)

• Something Followed Us Home ed by Cynthia Pelayo (BROOOO)

Please consider ordering your copy from us!

Till next time!

-Ryn

Hi Friends,

If you haven’t seen it yet, What Feeds Below is an October Aardvark pick…. And it’s a special edition!

(Which was a surprise to all of us! A very nice one!)

Aardvark said they never received so many requests to carry a title before and that really speaks to the power of this community! I think we are really able to offer authors something that traditional publishing just cannot.

Thank you to everyone who has preordered! Read and reviewed and has hyped this book up! This wouldn’t have happened without you! You all are the best!!!

(I’m pretty stoked on Aardvark and think we have similar tastes, so hopefully I get to make these kinds of announcements more!)

Next stop, bestseller list? 🤞

Your next batch of bookish content inspiration has arrived! All 53 October Canva Mockups are officially available! 🎨📖

Whether you’re creating Bookstagram posts, book reviews, TBRs, reading wrap-ups, book club content, new release features, or cozy fall reading graphics, these ready-to-use Canva Mockups are here to make content creation easier!

📥 READY TO CREATE?

Tap here to download October's Mockups and start planning your October bookish content! 🍁☕📚

❗️Don't forget to tag us in your posts @thepageladies so we can come and show your posts some love!

✨ AND DON’T FORGET YOU CAN REQUEST A CUSTOM MOCKUP!

Have a specific book, theme, design idea, or bookish graphic you’d love to have? The First Editions can submit custom mockup requests so we can create something tailored to your content needs. 👀🎨

You’re not just getting templates, you're getting a growing library of bookish content tools made for our community. 💙

Now tell us: What kind of custom bookish mockup should we create next? 📚✨

#Bookish Readers #CanvaMockups #BookstagramTemplates #BookishTemplates #BookishContent

Spooky season is getting a bookish makeover! Our October Bookish Canva Mockups are officially available and ready to help you create gorgeous content all month long. 📖🖤

Whether you’re creating Bookstagram posts, book reviews, TBRs, reading wrap-ups, book club content, new release features, or cozy fall reading graphics, these Canva mockups make creating your bookish content easier and more fun. 🍁☕📚

✨ FREE MEMBERS:
Tap here to download the October mockups available to you and start creating!

❗️Don't forget to tag us in your posts @thepageladies so we can come and show your posts some love!

📚 WANT EVEN MORE? COME JOIN THE FIRST EDITIONS!

The First Editions gives you access to all 53 October Mockups PLUS all of our mockups from previous months giving you access to HUNDREDS of bookish Canva Mockups to use throughout the year! 🎨📚

And that’s not all… 👀

🎨 CUSTOM MOCKUP REQUESTS: The First Editions can also request their own custom mockup! Have a specific book, theme, design, or content idea you’d love to see? Send us your request and we’ll create something just for you!

👉 Tap the link to download your October Mockups or join The First Editions and unlock hundreds of bookish Canva Mockups + custom mockup requests!

🍂 What bookish mockup would you love to see us create next?

#CanvaMockups #BookstagramTemplates #BookishTemplates #Bookstagram #BookishContent #Bookish #Readers

My husband was kind enough to make us a little website to store our ratings, recommendations, and more!

The first week of October, I'll share the results :)

No rush if you're still reading - this will remain up for you to add to until the first week of October and the results will stay there for us to check any time!

Share your thoughts here: https://4fb.club/survey/2026-09-book-survey

October is right around the corner, and The Page Ladies are getting ready to celebrate in a BIG way! 🎃📚

Next month marks 13 YEARS of The Page Ladies Book Club AND we’re celebrating two birthdays! 🎂🥳

Thirteen years of reading together, swooning over fictional characters, debating plot twists, discovering new favorites, and filling our bookshelves is definitely worth celebrating. And because our community is what makes The Page Ladies so special, we’re turning October into one giant thank-you celebration! 💛

Get ready for a month filled with non-stop celebrations, surprise wishlist gifting, TWO massive giveaway events, and plenty of bookish fun! 🎁📖✨

👀 HERE’S A SNEAK PEEK AT WHAT’S COMING…

🏆 1. The Birthday & Anniversary Bash with 6 Winners Total!

We’re kicking off the celebrations with a HUGE giveaway featuring 6 winners across 3 prize tiers!

Think:

📚 Multi-book wishlist bundles
☕ Cozy reading goodies
🎁 Gift cards to your favorite bookshops
🛍️ Wishlist gifting opportunities
✨ Bonus entry perks
💙 Special Bindery member rewards

We’re packing these prizes with plenty of bookish goodness because 13 years deserves a BIG celebration!

⚡ 2. The TBR Polish Gift Card Blitz

Have a few books sitting at the very top of your fall TBR?

We’ve got you covered! 📖🍂

This fast-paced giveaway will feature 6 digital book gift cards worth up to $30 each, giving you the perfect excuse to treat yourself to those books you’ve been eyeing and finally polish up that TBR pile. 🛍️📚

👇 WHAT CAN YOU DO RIGHT NOW?

There’s nothing complicated to do just get yourself ready for the fun!

1️⃣ Save this post!
Our first giveaway goes live October 1st, so save this page so you don’t miss a single celebration. 📌

2️⃣ Tag your bookish bestie!
Know someone who loves giveaways, books, and spooky-season reading? Tag them below and bring them along for the celebration! 👯‍♀️🎃

3️⃣ Update your Amazon Wishlist!
Make sure your wishlist is current and linked in your bio so you’re ready when wishlist gifting opportunities pop up! 🛍️✨

🎃 GET READY…

October is going to be one for the books! 📚🥂

Thirteen years of The Page Ladies is something we’re incredibly grateful for, and we can’t wait to celebrate this milestone with the readers, book lovers, and bookish besties who have helped make this community what it is.

So grab your favorite fall drink, make some room on that wishlist, and get ready…

The biggest Page Ladies celebration of the year starts October 1st! 🎉📚💛

Which bookish bestie are you bringing along for the October festivities? 👀👇

#books #bookish #birthday #bookgiveaway #bookclub #readers #bookishlife

Hello friends!

Welcome to Inkmonger!! I'm so glad you're here :)

I'm excited to get this community up and running, and get to know you all! If you haven't joined the Discord yet, please do-- that's going to be where the majority of the conversation will be. We'd love to have you!

To kick things off, let me ask–

This Friday, we're diving into some horror novels that center on witches. I'm hoping to put a few on your radar that you may not have heard of!

Crone by Keith Rosson

Thirteen years ago Eli Lamp's daughter went missing. Now, after a drug lord's son turns up dead, he must use his ex-detective skills to hunt down the killer. One who may be supernatural...

The Year of the Witching by Alexis Henderson

In the land of Bethel, the Prophet's word is law. They say that witches lurk in the Darkwood. When Immanuelle stumbles into the Darkwood one day, she learns secrets that may dismantle everything she's ever known.

Slewfoot by Brom

Could this even be a witchy list without Slewfoot? A new widow fights to keep her late husband's farm and her independence in a puritanical New England town. A mysterious creature from the dark wood takes an interest in Abitha.

Muneca by Cynthia Gomez

A woman has been left paralyzed by a mysterious illness, but Nati knows a thing or two about witchcraft, and she is sure the illness is a result of dark magic. Nati plans to break the spell and earn a handsome reward as well.

The Last Witch by C.J Cooke

An outspoken woman is accused of witchcraft and put on trial with several other women in town. Helena must find the courage to risk her life and other to stand up to a man destined to make her a monster.

Glass Girls by Danie Shokoohi

In a family of witches, the girls are given gifts and boys are destined to die. Alice thought she escaped this life and her abusive mother, but when her estranged sister shows up on her doorstep, her new life comes screeching to a halt.

Conjuring The Witch by Jessica Leonard

There are witches in the woods---or so the reverend of Steve and Nicole's church says. But Nicole takes a walk in the woods, she comes back changed.

The Good House by Tananarive Due

A woman's voodoo-practicing grandmother may have unlocked an ancient evil that is targeting her family.

The Wax Child by Olga Ravn

Narrated by a wax doll, The Wax Child follows a woman who---along with several other women---are accused of witchcraft.

The Bewitching by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

A tale of witches and monsters told over the story of three generations.

Chapter 13

Icarus ran a hand over his face. There was time to go back, sneak out the way they came, but if they did that he knew he would regret it for the rest of his life. This was all, however, his mission to figure out what was happening with this father. This was not Maren’s problem, this was his. 

“Mare,” he whispered, “you should go back. I’ll figure a way in. This is about my family, not yours. You shouldn’t risk everything for this with me.”

Maren studied his face, eyes bright, “You are my family, Icarus. If it were an answer to questions of my own, would you leave?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. No, he would not. He nodded and ended the debate, “This is a lot of people and only two of us. Probably more people coming down from above. What do you want to do?”

She shrugged, “I could shoot one of them. Cause a panic.”

“With only one way in and out, I have a suspicion they’ll know where it came from,” he tried to think and consider their options. None of them were good because they didn’t really have any, “We could just charge in? Doubt they’re expecting two priests to rush their magic door.”

Maren sighed and adjusted the shotgun strap so she could reach her satchel, “I love a good suicide plan, but I’ve put a lot of work into staying alive for thirty years, thanks.”

Icarus searched the ground as if something useful might appear there—a bomb, maybe, or a wild animal he could release. He ran a hand through his hair and paused, bending to pick up a healthy-sized rock. He tossed it into the air to examine its heft and caught it again, grinning at Maren. 

She frowned, “There is no damnable way that’s going to help.”

For all his flaws, he was a fairly good aim when he put his mind to it. Lots of practice in pubs winning free drinks off men who thought him too drunk to function during a darts challenge. He shrugged, “You have a better plan?”

“No,” she muttered, “I do not have a better plan.”

“If it alerts them and they rush, we dodge and hope for the best. Worst case, we wind up in one of the cells for a bit and we feign ignorance.”

“Yes, I’ve no doubt they’ll believe two priests who are widely disliked by their peers and don’t actually live on the grounds anymore just happened to wander into the wrong room several leagues underground,” she hissed and folded her arms. 

He nodded, “Precisely. Now, stand back, I have a miracle to perform.”

He crossed himself and took a moment to kiss the beads of his rosary, Maren’s eyes bored into him with the frustration of the Pale God Himself. He took in the chamber—the altar, the nuns, the candles, the guards. Winding up and angling himself, he tested the throw, pulled his arm back, and let the stone fly. His breath stopped. Maren stared. Both of them touched their small silver knives out of reflex. 

A clatter and thud. 

Two of the four guards pricked up immediately and jogged towards the farthest corner of the altar which gave them a much better chance. Maren made an unimpressed sound and Icarus glanced back at her, “What? They’re known for their battle prowess, not their brains.”

Shouting snatched their attention. Icarus’s throw had struck true—too true. A candle had toppled backward and struck the very old fringe of an ancient tapestry covering the wall behind the altar. It lit up like hay in a bonfire. Guards called out, the other two rushed towards the flames, all four of them fanning and scrambling to pull it down or put it out. The Sisters never stopped their prayer, didn’t even seem to notice they were in the path of immolation. 

Maren tensed, Icarus hissed a quiet victory cry, and they took off for the sigil-coated door. More shouting, more cries for water, and footsteps sounded from somewhere far behind them. Icarus’s legs bounded across the stone and he heard the sound of alarm from one of the guards, torn between stopping the flames and protecting the door. 

“Intruders!”

“Stop them, put this out!”

“To the door!”

“Shit,” Icarus growled and grabbed a massive iron ring. “Pull! Hurry!”

Maren was beside him and added her weight, dragging the door when it refused to budge. The clatter of halberds on stone, more yelling, more footsteps, more guards. Icarus added his own roar to the fray. The door groaned on protesting hinges and gave—not much, but enough.

“Go!” He shouted at Maren and shoved her through the gap. He caught sight of robes—another flock of priests rushing them from the far end of the hall. Two of the Warrior Priests had abandoned the fire and were trying to clear the rows of Sisters. 

He tossed them a less than holy gesture and slipped inside, grabbing the inner handle and pulling as hard as he could. Closing it, however, was much easier than opening it. He held it in place, fists pounding and weapons rattling impotently against the heavy wood.

“How can we hold it?!” Icarus called, but Maren was already handling it. 

Her palm dripped with blood and blue light trailed the air behind her fingers. He ducked in time for her to throw the binding sigil at the door and sear itself in with the pleasant sizzle of a campfire. It wouldn’t hold forever, just until they got their own sigilist down here or found another way to break down the door, but for now it would be enough. 

Icarus released the handle and took a tentative step back, then another, until he was standing beside her. She sighed, “You didn’t intend to set the fire, did you?”

“The Pale God works in mysterious ways, my friend,” he moved to clap a hand on her shoulder and immediately thought better of it. 

The scrape of metalon stone made both of them turn and remember they just crossed the threshold of a very well protected door into a very secret chamber deep in the bowels of the Church. Icarus lifted his hand to the hilt of his sword, Maren readied her shotgun. 

The chamber was not as big as he expected, but it was still large enough to cause an echo. Braziers lined the walls and cast enough shadow to make him second guess what he believed he was seeing. There was no furniture, no tapestries, no sigils or wards painted onto the inner walls. A generous ring of faintly glowing salt had been laid in the center of the room, anchors set into stone blocks in the floor—old and iron and thick as his arms. Heavy, dark iron chains led from each anchor and met at the clasp of a shackle-like cuff that would have swallowed Icarus’s forearm. 

Held by chains and salt and force was the prone body of a man. 

Forced to his knees by the tools of his imprisonment set low and taut in the ground underneath him. He wore tattered brown pants stained rust with old blood, chest bare in a lattice of scars and fresh wounds that broke and bled when he raised his head. Half his face was covered by an iron mask, seven-point antlers stretching from either side casting the shadow of a nightmare behind him. 

Maren inhaled, hand flying to her face. Icarus’s mouth went dry, eyes wide, and he forgot why he had come here in the first place. It was barbarism whatever this was, though he had no idea what exactly he was seeing. The man’s breathing was ragged and rasping, his mouth visible where the mask ended. Icarus spied half-rotted teeth glinting in the light when the man’s thin lips spread in a ghastly smile. 

“You should not be here, Father,” he said and bobbed his head in interest. His voice slithered and writhed and wormed its way into Icarus’s mind, flexing the air around his ears, splitting and refracting as if talking over itself, “A stranger… and yet I know you. Interesting.”

Icarus swallowed the sensation of broken glass spilling down his throat, “Who are you?”

It laughed, half choked and coughing. Icarus had to think of the man as an it because if he let it be a man, it meant something unspeakable was taking place in the bowels of the Church. He made a request to the Pale God to never let it laugh again.

“He does not know who we are and yet he stands at our threshold. This is a curious thing to us, yes it is,” the thing tried to move against its bonds, limited as it was. “You have questions, Father, do you not?”

Icarus took a step towards it and Maren touched his arm in a warning, but he shrugged her off, “I ask again - who are you?”

The creature in the man’s body grinned and slammed its fists into the stone, Icarus jumped. It stooped in a low crouch that demanded all of the slack in its chains. Somehow, even half-squatting, the creature seemed to take up the room, “I am what your priests call The Inquisitor. I am here to face your inquisition and answer your questions. So please, inquire.”

He was asking the wrong question, that was the subtext of its avoiding his question. Icarus stared at the thing and tried to make sense of it, “What are you?”

Maren had already strode a protective half-arc around the salt circle holding it at bay. He might be transfixed by the horror in front of him, but she was not. Her hand was in one of her pouches, blue light still danced along her fingertips, restless and chafing to be freed. 

The Inquisitor rolled its shoulders and stretched its neck from side to side. It turned its antlered head to him and Icarus tried not to buckle under the crushing gravity of its eyeless stare. 

“I am…” it struggled to find its words, “a tool, of a sort. Now, what are you, stranger priest?”

Icarus hesitated. He tried to focus, settle on anything that made sense to him. He opened his mouth and Maren cut him off, “Don’t. Do not give a demon your name before you know theirs.”

The creature clacked its blackened teeth, “Your companion is sharp. But what’s in a name, priest? What’s a name between friends? I am, after all, a friend to your Church. Which means I am a friend to you, thus you are giving your name to a friend and not a stranger. So I ask you again, what are you?”

“You first,” Icarus hissed. Maren was right, he knew better than to entreat with a demon unguarded. 

It laughed again, low and resigned, “Your brothers and sisters call me Inquisitor. This man I inhabit was called Athelde. Now, together, we are Mariusz.”

Brother Athelde. Mariusz. 

The words of the priest and the nun played out in his mind and he fired a look at Maren. She frowned, shaking her head in a vain effort to stop him from pressing on. He squared his shoulders and met what he felt were the demon’s eyes. She clenched her jaw and cursed him with the force of her stare when he would not meet it. 

“Does the name Ulrich mean anything to you?” Icarus gauged and stepped closer to the salt. 

Mariusz tipped its head left to right as if considering, then stilled. Its attention turned rapt and the muscles in its scarred and mangled body rippled like a heat shimmer off hot sand. It rolled the word along its tongue as if trying not to utter a curse, “Ulrich.”

Icarus held his breath and waited.

“Daedalus,” Mariusz paused to spit and the phlegm hissed against the consecrated stone. “The Deceiver. We know of him. You may inquire.”

It raised a hand and curled a too-long nail at Icarus. He suddenly regretted coming here, hunting for this, asking these things. He wished for one brief and childish moment that he could forget he ever had a father. Alas, Icarus was cursed with the thirst for knowledge and truth. 

“What do you know of Daedalus?”

“What will you offer to find out?”

Silence hung between them, Icarus glanced at Maren who was becoming increasingly adversarial about this exchange. 

“What do you ask?” Icarus, who knew better than to deal with demons, couldn’t help himself. They had come this far, risked this much. He had fought and dismembered an abhartach, for the Pale God’s sake.

Mariusz took him in, then tapped one talon against the stone, “Blood. Three drops. One to read you, one to know you, one to see you. Give me this and I will answer your questions.”

“No,” Maren warned him again, “do not give it anything. Whatever we’re looking for can be found elsewhere.”

“It cannot!” Mariusz snapped his head to look at her, mouth curved in a frown. “You wish to know of the Deceiver and there are none left walking this world that can give you the answers but me. So make your choice, Fathers,” it turned its head back to Icarus. “Three drops of the Azure Prince’s blood or the eternal dark of nothing.”

Maren stiffened and blinked at the honorific, Icarus recoiled. He knew the purpose was to tempt him into giving up something important, but what did he care about three drops of blood in the face of finally understanding the enigmatic mystery that was his father? He’d already given his soul for his netherism, there was nothing left for a demon to claim.

Before Maren could object, Icarus touched the tip of his silver knife to his finger and let three perfectly beaded drops of ruby red blood flow down the blade. He stepped to the very edge of the salt circle and allowed the knife to reach beyond its borders, letting each drop patter to the stone before pulling back. Chains rattled and sang when the Inquisitor strained to reach the offering, huffing and inspecting like a starving man inhaling the scent of a roast after a famine. A few heavy breaths passed, then it lunged towards the small dark stain and opened its jaws. A long, pointed tongue slipped free and licked clean the indent of rock cradling Icarus’s offering. 

The Inquisitor let out a long sigh, dropping flat to its stomach and arching its back. It writhed and strained as if it were a dog finding a particularly nasty scent in the grass. Then, it skittered back to the center of the ring and sat on its knees, head hanging, shoulders rising and falling as it breathed. 

It said nothing for a long, long time. So long, Maren caught Icarus’s eye and he shrugged, shaking his head. He had no better understanding of the workings of demons than she did. She opened her mouth to speak, but the Inquisitor interrupted her with a low, bellowing groan. 

It raised its hand and pointed an accusatory finger at Icarus, “You are the son of the Deceiver, he who seeks to tear the Veil. The Azure Prince. He who knows the Fire. You are Icarus, the Burning Horseman.”

Icarus’s heart stopped beating. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do, couldn’t move. Mariusz’s devious smile had warped and changed, turning into a fanged snarl chased by a low, menacing growl. 

“You are the son of the priest who wants to break the world.”

One of the coolest parts of this whole "we're launching a publishing imprint" experience is seeing how a book cover comes together. We just kicked off this process with the team, including the author M.I. Minaeva and Bindery's Creative Director, Charlotte Strick, who is responsible for some truly iconic covers (👀 Annihillation by Jeff VanderMeer 👀).

Our first call was a real meeting of the minds. Charlotte gathered M.I.'s notes on inspiration, we threw out our ideas, and she came prepared with her own interpretation of the book's visual language. But first, a quick reminder of what your future-favorite-book is about, 'k?

“Combining the liminal architecture of Backrooms, the shapeshifting narrative of We Used to Live Here, the hospitality horror of The Shining, and the gothic dread of Shirley Jackson, Saint’s Hotel is a nightmare you cannot wake from. And the reason you cannot sleep.”

Here is what's floating around inside our brains.

We found lots of overlap between the book covers we have loved and M.I.'s selection. What's black and white and red all over? Saint's Hotel apparently. Strong central images, religious iconography, and archetypal palettes.

The story takes place in the phantasmagoric town of Sainte Verlise. Haunted reliquary vibes and gothic atmosphere.

And of course, the nowhere zone: liminal spaces. Liminal spaces everywhere!!

Our next step in the process is to narrow down our vision so we can start reaching out to artists and designers. We'd love to hear from all of you: what do you think of this mood? Does this look like a narrative world you're excited to enter?

—LPOTL (and the myrmidones at Last Press HQ)

A Complement of Scoundrels is officially out in the world!

That is an extremely exciting sentence for me to type. Our imprint’s first release and S.V. Lockwood's debut book is an actual physical object that people can buy and read and sniff and put on their shelves.

Some of you have asked what you can do to help the book now that it's out, so I wanted to put together some ideas. Obviously you can post about it, share the stuff I post, and be feral about it in Discord. But there are also a bunch of very simple, low-effort things that can genuinely help A Complement of Scoundrels keep finding readers after release week.

1. Recommend It When Someone Is Already Looking for a Book

This is probably the easiest one. If you see somebody asking for fantasy recommendations and Scoundrels actually fits what they're looking for, throw it into the conversation.

Fantasy heists, criminal crews, found family, revenge, steampunk. Are they fans of The Lies of Locke Lamora, Six of Crows, Arcane, Ocean's Eleven? If someone is looking for any of that, throw Scoundrels into the mix. And that can be anywhere people are talking books: Reddit, Facebook groups, Threads, Discord, TikTok comments, whatever weird little corner of the internet you happen to live in.

2. Put It Up for Your Book Club

If you're in a book club, buddy read, Discord reading group (other than ours, you hussy), whatever, toss Scoundrels into the voting pool. One of the coolest possible outcomes of publishing this thing is seeing little pockets of people reading and talking about it completely independently of me.

3. Text the One Friend You Know Would Like It

This sounds incredibly obvious, but personal recommendations are still one of the biggest reasons I pick up books. You know your friends (and how to manipulate them). If you read Scoundrels and immediately thought, “oh, this weirdo would love this,” send it to that weirdo.

4. Work It Into the Book Content You're Already Making

For the creators in here, you of course do not need to make a dedicated five-minute video about A Complement of Scoundrels.

BUT, if you're already doing:

• September reads

• recent fantasy releases

• books you read this month

• fantasy heist recommendations

• underrated fantasy

• indie fantasy

• books that deserve more hype

… just include it when it makes sense.

Carousels, wrap-ups, reading vlogs, shelf tours, recommendation videos. Those little appearances add up.

5. Make Something Weird About It

A Spotify Playlist, character art, fancast, a stupid meme that only cool people like us understand, an outfit inspired by one of the characters, a bookmark, pictures of your cat with glasses on reading it etc etc

6. Review It Somewhere

This is one I really want to add because it requires basically nothing and can make quite a difference. If you've finished Scoundrels, rate or review it wherever you normally track your reading.

Goodreads. StoryGraph. Audible. The retailer where you bought it. Wherever. It doesn't need to be five stars. Please don't give the book a fake glowing review because you like me (or a one star because you secretly loathe and resent me). Just give it an honest one.

For a debut author and an independent publisher, having actual readers leaving actual reactions gives somebody discovering the book six months from now a much better idea of whether it's for them.

Even a rating with no written review helps establish that yes, people have in fact read this strange and beautiful object we released into society.

7. Request It From Your Library

This is another really easy one that I think people forget about. If your library takes purchase requests, request A Complement of Scoundrels (you can also hit “Notify Me” on Libby and that provides a signal to them). Libraries buying books is good! Libraries putting books in front of readers who would never otherwise encounter them is also good!

8. Ask Your Local Bookstore About It

Same idea. If you have a local indie bookstore you love, asking whether they carry A Complement of Scoundrels or whether they can order it helps put the title on their radar. Please do not menace your local bookseller on my behalf. I know it will be hard for some of you, but a normal human interaction will suffice.

Booksellers discovering a book because customers keep asking about it is exactly the sort of grassroots thing that can help a book’s success snowball.

9. If You See It in the Wild, Face It Out

This one is both helpful and gives you the opportunity to feel like you're committing a very minor crime, unless you’re used to committing crimes, which, please don’t make us accessories to them (looking at you, Lyss).

A Complement of Scoundrels is already showing up in plenty of Barnes & Noble and Books-A-Million stores, so if you happen to spot it on a shelf, face that bad boy out. Books with their covers facing outward are obviously a whole lot more noticeable than books where you're just staring at the spine (even though the spine is gorg), especially for somebody who has absolutely no idea what Scoundrels is yet. This is particularly true because of John Gwynne’s lovely blurb on the front cover, which instantly gives it credibility.

You do not need to reorganize an entire display, build a shrine, or get yourself banned from Barnes & Noble (which would be good content tbh). Just a little turn of the wrist.

10. Pass Your Copy Along

If you're finished with your copy and you're not somebody who hoards books like a dragon, let someone else read it. Give it to a friend or family memeber, drop it into a li’l free library. A book changing hands five times is five potential readers who now know the wrinkly-brained S.V. Lockwood exists.

I am extremely pro-book-hoarding personally and will be buried with my TBR, so I will not judge you if this is impossible, especially if your name is on the Thank You page.

11. It’s the Season for Gifting

We are entering the part of the year where everybody suddenly remembers they need to buy things for other human beings. If you know somebody who loves heists, revenge stories or just really doggone great fantasy books, maybe A Complement of Scoundrels belongs under their tree.

Books are also particularly good gifts because they're very easy to wrap and make you look thoughtful, even though all of us in the Discord know better.

Seriously, Thank You

I know I say this a lot, but I don't think I can really overstate how much all of you have already done for this book.

A “Kist Reads” imprint was a big goal of mine when joining Bindery and all of you made that happen. There is a real book sitting on people's shelves with Kist Reads printed on it. Somebody is looking at my picture in the back of the book and thinking “who is this pretentious fuck”, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

That's also because S.V. Lockwood wrote a damn good book and a whole bunch of people worked behind the scenes to turn that manuscript into the finished thing.

Now it's about helping the book find people who have absolutely no idea who I am. So keep talking about it! Keep recommending it when it makes sense. Keep posting your pictures and reviews. Get it into libraries and bookstores and book clubs and the hands of whatever friend you know is susceptible to a crew of goblins.

And if you've got another good, bonkers idea for getting A Complement of Scoundrels in front of new readers, drop it in the comments or bring it into the Discord. Let's see how far we can push this thing, HUZZAH!