TandeWrites

Today, in honour of me committing to reviewing all of my favourite reads of the year so far, we’re going to be reviewing The Wild Huntress by Emily Lloyd-Jones, the newest addition to her Welsh mythology book universe. Set in the same world as The Bone Houses and The Drowned Woods, The Wild Huntress is a retelling of the Wild Hunt, brimming with Welsh mythology, a huntress of monsters, a prince that might be a monster, and a diviner of plants. There’s also a cat that might have eaten 100 knights. Although this book is part of a universe, it is a standalone that can be read on its own, although you might miss out on a handful of Easter Egg references to events and characters from the other books.

Every five years, two kingdoms take part in a Wild Hunt. A monster-hunting girl teams up with a prince and a trickster to win the dangerous tournament known as the Wild Hunt. Branwen’s desperate to cure her mother’s sickness, and the Wild Hunt is her only option. Gwydion is the least impressive of his magically talented family, but he’ll do whatever it takes to stop his cruel older brother from becoming a tyrant. Pryderi is prince-born and monster-raised, and he knows deep down that the royal crown doesn’t interest him—all he wants is to know where he belongs. But unbeknownst to the trio, the Hunt is far more dangerous to win than to lose.

Like the author’s other works in this universe, The Wild Huntress truly showcases how magical and dark Welsh folklore can be, and I’ll always love reading about tales that are already so close to my heart, and for them to be represented and retold in a way that is well-done. This book is a fresh and heartbreakingly faithful retelling of several Welsh stories of the Mabinogion (a book the author describes as being particularly formative for her writing) but still stands on its own enough for readers who are not familiar with the mythology.

This book is a little more magical than the others in this universe. Another reviewer described this book as a mix of Throne of Glass and The Cruel Prince and I think that’s a pretty accurate comparison, especially as we finally got to delve a little deeper into the Otherfolk, something which has been teased throughout the other two books. I’m growing to love tricksy fairy stories with dangerous magic. This tricksiness was integral to forming the reluctant friendship between the trio of main characters—their friendship was forged quickly through suspicions and uneasy trust, and what blossomed after was so surprisingly soft and lovely.

Our female main character is Branwen—a huntress of monsters, caretaker of her mother, and owner of a cat who is definitely not deadly. She has no magic of her own, but she possesses a unique power: she can see magic. No monster or enchantment can trick her, a valuable skill for joining the hunt, although it had less impact on the plot than I expected. I loved how the Hunt forced her (and the other main characters) to confront what she knew of herself and her hope for the future, even as she was fighting for her life and her freedom. In my opinion, Branwen was the character with the most to lose on a personal level, and her motivations were the most relatable, so I was invested in seeing her win.

One small thing about this book that meant a lot to me is that Gwydion has chronic pain in his hand, and it doesn’t disappear by the end of the book as injuries tend to do in fantasy. The author explored a lot of her own experiences with illness and injury, and how one can affect the other. She makes an effort to talk about the toll it has on Gwydion throughout the hunt and, as someone with chronic pain, it’s wonderful to see a character who lives with it—and struggles with it—and can still have adventures.

One minor problem with the book that I’ve invented is that there was a relationship between characters that was feeling like it might end in polyamory (from my interpretation of their interactions), but instead ended in one of the character’s death, and it’s an incredibly underwhelming death. The dead character was my favourite and had the most interesting backstory and motives in my opinion, so it was lightly devastating when their storyline came to an abrupt and unresolved end. My feelings towards the character who caused the death changed from positive to neutral as I felt dissatisfied by their reaction (or lack of reaction) to the death and it didn’t align with what I had interpreted as their behaviour. There was slight emotional whiplash and it made me less invested in what occurred during the final few chapters.

There were a few less minor moments where I thought I was going to rate this book a full five stars (mostly due to it hitting my niche interests), but I lowered my rating. I found the last hundred pages or so a bit repetitive and predictable as I believe Emily Lloyd-Jones’ Welsh mythology books are starting to follow an identifiable formula—soft boy, tough girl, some kind of story or fairytale that guides their journey, a last-minute plot twist that doesn’t feel as if sufficient groundwork has been laid for it to be satisfying—and the first hundred were a struggle as so many named characters were introduced at once across three character perspectives and it took me some time to get them straight in my head. But I am still very in love with the book. Despite the flaws, I am always completely enchanted by Emily Lloyd-Jones, and this book was a perfect fit for what I was wanting to read at the time.

The Wild Huntress is a story of magic, mythology, and a side of self-discovery, wrapped up in a dark fantasy world with immersive storytelling.