Brockenbrough (The Game of Love and Death, 2015) pens a twisty, dark fantasy, in which siblings destined to rule a kingdom are drawn into bitter conflict. It is tradition within the royal family that the first-born child, who is always male, inherits the throne. One fateful day, the queen gives birth to twins: a werebear girl is first to enter the world, followed by a human boy, leaving all puzzled by the occurrence and unsure of who should eventually rule the kingdom. This leads to a power struggle between the brother and sister as they grow up and an unwillingness to rule together as their father wanted. Princess Ursula believes in using her power for good and to get rid of unjust laws. Prince Albrecht, on the other hand, craves power for himself, no matter the cost. Taking inspiration from classic fairy tales with a touch of King Lear, the book is filled with powerful moments, engaging storytelling, and brutal truths, and it weaves in themes of injustice and the dire consequences of deceit.

In this fantasy novel with threads drawn from fairy tales (the non-Disney-fied ones, with all the gore, and then some), Albrecht is the king's son, but his twin, Ursula, is the firstborn, setting the siblings in competition for the throne. Following their parents' deaths, Hans and Greta, the woodcutter's children, are taken against their will to serve in the palace, Greta to butcher animals in the kitchen, Hans as the apprentice -- and torture subject -- of Albrecht, who wants to build mechanical men not subject to the weaknesses of flesh and blood. Capella, who is Albrecht and Ursula's cousin, loves Hans, whom she knows in his werewolf form. Sabine, a werebear, loves Ursula but hates the monarchy. When the king dies, Albrecht is able to stage a coup, drive out Ursula, and seize Greta as his unwilling bride. The frailty of bodies; the unnaturalness of medical experimentation; the vulnerability of women in a patriarchal world; and the disturbingly grotesque nature of torture, pain, and mutilation -- these images recur throughout the story, which mixes magic and woodland folkloric elements with horror and steampunk. Readers may journey through Brockenbrough's (The Game of Love and Death, rev. 5/15) compelling tale with a growing sense of dread, but they'll likely be unable to put it down.

In this dark fantasy woven together from reimagined fairy tales, a werebear princess and her cruel twin brother vie for inheritance of their father's crown.Once upon a time, a story unfolds after a farmer lies to a king, saying that his daughter can spin grass into gold. In this kingdom, the first-born-always a boy-inherits. But when the common-born queen gives birth to twins, first a werebear girl, then a human boy, no one can agree who has the right of succession. Princess Ursula believes in her claim to the throne: Under her benevolent rule, she'd overturn unjust laws that oppress other werefolk. Full of contempt for his sister, Albrecht, the vicious, vain prince, plots his own ascent, no matter the cost. With precise, and poetic prose, Brockenbrough twists and intertwines familiar tales-"Hansel and Gretel," "Little Red Riding Hood," "Rumpelstiltskin," and "Goldilocks," among others-to craft an intricate, cohesive narrative framed as a story within a story. Ursula and Albrecht are White; the ensemble cast of primary characters includes two brown-skinned women, one of whom has a fraught emotional relationship with the princess. Injustice, misinformation, and consent are significant themes. While at times the depictions of violence (including sexual assault) are visceral and brutal, this stand-alone journey into grim woodlands arrives at a subversive resolution more satisfying than a traditional happily-ever-after.Unflinching, bloodstained magic. (Fantasy. 14-18)