Welcome to my stop on the blog tour for The Fever King by Victoria Lee. This tour is being hosted by Fantastic Flying Book Club. There will be a giveaway later in the post.
The Fever King (Feverwake #1)
by Victoria Lee
Release Date: March 1st 2019
Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult, LGBT
In the former United States, sixteen-year-old Noam Álvaro wakes up in a hospital bed, the sole survivor of the viral magic that killed his family and made him a technopath. His ability to control technology attracts the attention of the minister of defense and thrusts him into the magical elite of the nation of Carolinia.
The son of undocumented immigrants, Noam has spent his life fighting for the rights of refugees fleeing magical outbreaks—refugees Carolinia routinely deports with vicious efficiency. Sensing a way to make change, Noam accepts the minister’s offer to teach him the science behind his magic, secretly planning to use it against the government. But then he meets the minister’s son—cruel, dangerous, and achingly beautiful—and the way forward becomes less clear.
Caught between his purpose and his heart, Noam must decide who he can trust and how far he’s willing to go in pursuit of the greater good.
The club was night-dark, lit only by dizzy lights overhead trapping everything in purple and blue and silver. Ames caught the back of Dara’s sweater as they wove through the pulsating crowd, everyone drinking and jumping and grinding to the rhythm of whatever the DJ played on the turntables. They broke free near the bar. Dara turned to look at her, party glitter shimmering on his cheekbones.
“You look like a pixie threw up on you,” she informed him.
“You’re too kind.” Dara had already raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention—and he must come here a lot, because the guy didn’t even bother asking what he wanted. Just showed up and slid a line of shot glasses across the counter, filled them overflowing with tequila. “I have more, if you want to borrow it.”
He tipped back the first shot in a single fluid movement. When Ames took hers, the cheap liquor burned all the way down her throat and she grimaced, gesturing for the bartender to bring lime. “God. That’s disgusting.”
Dara just shot her an annoyingly unruffled smile and downed another shot.
“I always thought,” Ames said, “I’d be spending my sixteenth New Year’s Eve drunk and in the arms of a beautiful man on his private yacht somewhere. Draped in diamonds and cocaine.”
Dara considered for a moment. “I can offer you,” he lifted a finger, “one of those things.”
She sighed and took the shot he pressed into her waiting hand, downed it quick—before she could think better of it.
It wasn’t like she wasn’t glad to be here with Dara. Dara was her best friend. Her only friend, if she was brutally honest with herself.
But he’d already turned to lean against the counter, scanning the room like he was looking for better prospects. And he’d find plenty of options here. Everyone was into Dara.
It was kind of annoying, actually.
“Promise me you’ll wait at least thirty minutes before running off with some creepy old man,” Ames said, sharply enough Dara glanced back over at her with both brows raised. She exhaled a heavy breath. “We just got here.”
“They aren’t all creepy.”
“Dara. They are all creepy.”
He rolled his eyes and reached for another shot in lieu of promising anything, which was Dara-speak for fuck you, I’ll do what I want. She bit back the snarky comment on the tip of her tongue, because Dara just got back to the barracks after six days of being…not-in-the-barracks, and she didn’t want to be the one to make his shitty week shittier.
Dara could do that all by himself.
Of course, it wasn’t like Ames’ week had been any better. She’d spent the first half of it attending awful holiday parties with her father—parties made twice as agonizing by Dara’s absence. Hours and hours of fake smiles and answering that question so what will you do after Level IV for the five-zillionth time. And, like, what was she gonna say? She wanted to climb ranks—to be a general one day. But then they’d smile and coo, oh, just like your father, which was definitely not the reason she wanted to do anything.
They finished the round of shots and Dara slid a few argents across the bar to pay. Then he caught her wrist and tugged her out onto the dance floor in his wake—all the way out into the center, where the heat from so many bodies drew beads of sweat at the nape of her neck and the music pounded thick and heavy in her bones. Dara turned to face her, his hands finding her waist and his hips finding the beat.
He always danced with her first. At least there was that.
But then the song changed and someone pulled him away—another one of Dara’s tall faceless men with their greedy hands—and Ames turned, momentarily lost in the shifting movement of bodies and the flickering lights.
Whatever. She could dance on her own, she was—perfectly happy on her own. Only all those shots already made her feel sick, she didn’t have Dara’s tolerance after all; the lights were too-bright and the heat of all these bodies made it hard to breathe, and then Ames was in the bathroom splashing cold water on her face and scrubbing clean the area under her eyes when her mascara ran, the walls throbbing with the pulse of the music and her heart too-quick in her breast.
She pulled out her phone and texted Dara: where are you?
Stared down at the screen for a few minutes, but he never replied. Then a new wave of girls crashed into the bathroom and she slipped out into the dark hall, dim, dizzy. The floor pitched ceiling-ward and she threw out a hand to catch herself against the wall.
“You okay?” someone asked.
She blinked open blurry eyes. It was a guy, college-aged, scruffy in flannel. Just Ames’ type.
“Yeah,” she said. It came out hoarse. “I’m fine. Little…drunk.”
“Are you here alone? Is there someone I can call for you?”
Ames really didn’t know how to answer that question. She settled for a complicated grimace and shook her head.
He held out a hand, helped her away from the wall. “Let’s get you some water, yeah?”
She nodded. He moved that hand to her elbow and together they headed back into the club, up to the bar where she hitched herself up onto a stool and he ordered two waters, with lemon.
She liked that detail. With lemon.
They sat there for a few minutes, both sipping their waters in silence. Ames perused him in sidelong glances: a scar splitting one eyebrow, short fingernails, broad palms. He looked like he was good with those hands.
“What’s your name?” he asked eventually.
Victoria Lee grew up in Durham, North Carolina, where she spent twelve ascetic years as a vegetarian before discovering spicy chicken wings are, in fact, a delicacy. She’s been a state finalist competitive pianist, a hitchhiker, a pizza connoisseur, an EMT, an expat in China and Sweden, and a science doctoral student. She’s also a bit of a snob about fancy whisky.
Victoria writes early in the morning, then spends the rest of the day trying to impress her border collie puppy and make her experiments work.
She is represented by Holly Root and Taylor Haggerty at Root Literary.
Meet her in person at any of the following appearances:
- March 4: The Corner Bookstore, Launch Event, 6:00 PM – New York, NY
- March 6: Parnassus, Panel and Signing, 6:30 PM – Nashville, TN
- March 15-17: Emerald City Comic Con, Panel, March 17 at 4:00 PM – Seattle, WA
- April 26-27: Southern Kentucky Bookfest – Bowling Green, KY
- June 14: Porter Square Books, Panel and Signing, 7 PM – Somerville, MA
- August 9-10: YA Fest PA – Easton, PA
THE FEVER KING by Victoria Lee On Sale: March 1, 2019 · Book 1 in the Feverwake Series · Skyscape · 384 pages
$16.99 Hardcover · ISBN: 978-542040174
Prize: Win a copy of THE FEVER KING by Victoria Lee (US Only)
Start Date: 18th March 2019
End Date: 31st March 2019
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