Power was never the danger. Want was.
On Samhain night, with treachery seated beside the throne and the dead stirring beneath the House of Faces, Macha felt him at her back—steady, lethal, far too close. She was meant to hold Ulaid together, not crave the man sworn to protect her. But desire turned every choice into something dangerous.
Ruairi had already crossed death once. Macha was far more dangerous.
Macha stood before him with fire in her eyes while Ulaid cracked apart around her, and every vow he’d sworn strained toward breaking. He was her blade, her shield, the last thing standing between her and the darkness rising through the court. He was never meant to want her like this.
The dead had always spoken to Breda. She never expected them to speak his name.
As the House of Faces began to fracture, the whispers pulled her toward truths long buried within Ulaid—and toward a shadowed man who felt more like a warning than salvation. The dead were no longer content to whisper.
Cian lived with the damage he helped create—and the woman he could not save.
Old magic bound him to grief, guilt, and a past that refused to stay buried. Love had failed them before. It might fail them again.
As Samhain descends, loyalties fracture, the dead grow restless, and Ulaid begins to unravel.
Review - 5 Stars
I've been reading fantasy for many years now, and these days it takes quite a lot to surprise me. Tides of Treachery managed it.
What I enjoyed most was the richness of the world. There is a depth to the mythology that made me feel as though I was stepping into a place with a long history rather than simply reading about a fantasy kingdom. The Celtic influences gave the story a distinctive flavour that I found refreshing.
Macha was a heroine I quickly warmed to. She possesses courage and determination, but also compassion, which made her easy to admire. I was equally drawn to Ruairi. There is a sadness about him that touched me, and I found myself hoping things would work out for him.
The romance was beautifully handled. As someone who has read more than her fair share of books over the years, I appreciated that the relationship was allowed to develop naturally. The growing affection between Macha and Ruairi felt genuine, and some of the quieter moments between them were among my favourites in the book.
I must also mention the House of Faces, which I found both fascinating and rather unsettling. The older I get, the more I appreciate stories that can still send a little shiver down my spine, and this certainly managed that on occasion.
I found myself lingering over this book rather than racing through it. Not because it was slow, but because I enjoyed spending time in the world Hanna Park has created. There is a great deal to absorb, and I wanted to savour it.
A thoroughly enjoyable read, and one that reminded me why I fell in love with fantasy in the first place.
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Hanna Park
I began my writing career in the pre-dawn of a winter morning while my husband snored like a train. We could call my husband the catalyst. If it weren’t for him, I would never have gone to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, feed the cat, and sit on the loveseat in front of the fire. It was there, in those moments of wondrous quiet, that I did something I had never thought possible. I opened my laptop, and while the coffee went cold, I wrote a story. My husband had no idea that these sojourns to the loveseat in front of the fire would become a daily occurrence, that writing would become an obsession, but the cat knew. She knows everything.
I write stories that make you laugh, make you cry, and make you love. Thank you, friends, for reading!
In the beginning, there was an empty page.
I am a writer who lives in Muskoka, Canada, with a husband who snores, a hungry cat, and an almost perfect canine––he’s an adorable little shit.
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