The Bird and The Sword by Amy Harmon
Swallow, daughter, pull them in, those words that sit upon your lips. Lock them deep inside your soul, hide them ‘til they’ve time to grow. Close your mouth upon the power, curse not, cure not, ‘til the hour. You won’t speak and you won’t tell, you won’t call on heaven or hell. You will learn and you will thrive. Silence, daughter. Stay alive. The day my mother was killed, she told my father I wouldn’t speak again, and she told him if I died, he would die too. Then she predicted the king would sell his soul and lose his son to the sky. My father has a claim to the throne, and he is waiting in the shadows for all of my mother’s words to come to pass. He wants desperately to be king, and I just want to be free. But freedom will require escape, and I’m a prisoner of my mother’s curse and my father’s greed. I can’t speak or make a sound, and I can’t wield a sword or beguile a king. In a land purged of enchantment, love might be the only magic left, and who could ever love . . . a bird?
This one might be more noblebright-adjacent, but it’s worth mentioning.
Words have power.
If I had to describe The Bird and The Sword in three words, they would be ‘subtle’, ‘stunning’, and ‘beautiful’.
Yes, those last two are basically the same thing. The sentiment of the stunning beauty of this book is strong.Harmon has created a fascinating world where words are literally magic. The main character, Lark, can wield those words to make inanimate objects do what she wants—until her mother curses her to silence. The magic is simple, but unique, and it awed and delighted me throughout the whole story. Harmon did an amazing job of showing what it would be like to not be able to talk, how that would completely affect how Lark interacts with the world, and how the world interacts with her. She’s strong yet insecure, self-conscious yet uncaring what others think. It’s contradictory, but it works well, because it’s realistic. Every character felt the same—each was unique, complex, and so very real.
The romance is amazing—Lark and Tiras’ dynamic is a dance, and so much is left unsaid, but shown perfectly.
Harmon is an artist with the words; the prose flows like a river, gorgeous and smooth. And hints foreshadow so subtly that you don’t realize it until you reach the turn in the river that the hint warned you about. It is surprising yet inevitable, in the best way possible.
Lastly, I adore the title. “ ____ and ____ ” is a common formula for book titles, but usually they’re rather mundane and straight-forward. The Bird and The Sword is clever, because it’s more nuanced than you think when you first see it. And details like this abound in the story, making it just a gem—one I’ve been thinking about for days after finishing the last page.
Warnings/anxiety alert: Nothing super in depth, but some steam for those that care.Definitely much peril—there was a moment where I was certain all would NEVER BE WELL. But the ending was appropriately satisfying.
This review was written by Constance Lopez. Constance knows magic is real. Dragons, faeries… and don’t even get her started on unicorns. She grew up having epic duels in the woods with her siblings, and nature is still one of her favorite places to be. If she isn’t out there working on her stories, she’s dragging her children and husband on adventures (they always enjoy it once they’re outside). Except in summer. For those months she hides inside, because Texas heat is real and it hates her.
Books have always been her haven and inspiration, and now she writes her own noblebright stories, hoping to pass those feelings along to others. Fantasy, of course. Because everything is better with magic. Her debut YA fantasy will release in Spring 2021.
