Voted at #2 in Better Reading’s 2022 Top 50 Kids’ Booksįor YA readers and children aged 14+.From bestselling Australian author Lynette Noni comes a dark, thrilling YA fantasy perfect for fans of Sarah J. “Everything will be all right.”Īnd then they were surrounded. “It’s all right,” their father said shakily as the soldiers neared. There was nowhere to run, trapped as they were with the icy river at their backs, the current too fast and deep for them to risk crossing. The little girl reached through the scratchy brambles for her brother’s hand, his palm sticky with jerriberry juice, his fingers trembling. Soldiers were pouring from the cottage, their armor glinting silver even in the limited light, their swords raised. Her father’s grip turned painful, but it was too late for him to follow his wife’s order. She didn’t get the chance to say more before her mother’s shrill voice bellowed out a warning. “Papa-” The little girl spoke this time, jumping when her father wrenched the basket from her hands, berries flying everywhere, and caught her fingers in his crushing grip. Whatever he’d intended to say about their older sister and brother was stolen by another scream and a crashing sound that echoed all the way down to where they stood.
“It’s probably just Zuleeka and Torell play- ing around, but we should go check that -” “Quiet, Kerrin,” the man hushed his son, dropping the aloeweed and hurrying toward them.
His gaze wasn’t on the mossy plants, but staring up at their small cottage on the hill, his face draining of color. Her emerald eyes looked to their father beside the wintry stream, a large bunch of aloeweed in his hands. The girl and her brother froze, silver juice smeared around his half-open mouth, concern creasing her brow. The basket was barely half full when the first scream cleaved the quiet night air.
If only she could stop her brother from stuffing his face with them, then she could finally deliver enough to their mother to reap the bene ts of her labor. Her mother made the best jerriberry jam in all of Wenderall, and since the silver berries were sweetest when picked just as the moon crested the night’s sky, she already knew this batch was going to be delicious. But she could barely feel the pain, thinking instead of the supper that awaited them. The soothing gel would be needed later, given how many thorns had dug into her esh. The little girl was down by the river picking jerriberries with her younger brother, their father crouched at the icy water’s edge replenishing his supply of aloeweed.
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