The Tiger’s Daughter
By K Arsenault Rivera, Miriam Weinberg
Tom Doherty Associates
Copyright © 2017 K Arsenault Rivera
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7653-9253-4
Contents
Title Page,
Copyright Notice,
Dedication,
Acknowledgments,
Map,
The Empress: One,
The Colors of the Flowers,
The Empress: Two,
Let The Winds of Heaven Blow,
When In Dreams I Go to You,
Winter Loneliness in a Mountain Village,
The Empress: Three,
If I Should Hear the Sound of Pine Trees,
How Will I Tell Her?,
The Empress: Four,
The Midnight Moon,
It was not for this I Prayed,
Our Sleeves, wet with Tears,
If It Were My Wish to Pick the White Orchid,
The Empress: Five,
Let me Remember Only this,
The Autumn Time has Come,
If I Could, I’d Come to You,
The Empress: Six,
An Excerpt from the Poet Prince, O-Itsuki’s Unfinished Memoir,
Praise for The Tiger’s Daughter,
About the Author,
Copyright,
CHAPTER 1
THE EMPRESS
Empress Yui wrestles with her broken zither. She’d rather deal with the tiger again. Or the demons. Or her uncle. Anything short of going north, anything short of war. But a snapped string? One cannot reason with a snapped string, nor can one chop it in half and be rid of the problem.
When she stops to think on it — chopping things in half is part of why she’s alone with the stupid instrument to begin with. Did she not say she’d stop dueling? What was she thinking, accepting Rayama-tun’s challenge? He is only a boy.
And now he will be the boy who dueled One-Stroke Shizuka, the boy whose sword she cut in half before he managed to draw it. That story will haunt him for the rest of his life.
The Phoenix Empress, Daughter of Heaven, the Light of Hokkaro, Celestial Flame — no, she is alone, let her wear her own name — O-Shizuka pinches her scarred nose. When was the last day she behaved the way an Empress should?
Shizuka — can she truly be Shizuka, for an hour? — twists the silk between her first two fingers and threads it through the offending peg. Honestly. The nerve! Sitting in her rooms, taking up her valuable space. Taunting her. She can hear her father’s voice now: Shizuka, it will only be an hour, won’t you play me something?
But O-Itsuki, Imperial Poet, brother to the Emperor, heard music wherever he heard words. Scholars say that the Hokkaran language itself was not really born until O-Itsuki began to write in it. What use did he have for his daughter’s haphazard playing?
Shizuka, your mother is so tired and upset; surely your music will lift her spirits and calm her!
But it was never the music that cheered her mother. It was merely seeing Shizuka play. The sight of her daughter doing something other than swinging a sword. O-Shizuru did little else with her time, given her position as Imperial Executioner. Wherever she went, the Crows followed in her footsteps. Already thirty-six by the time she gave birth to her only child, O-Shizuru wore her world-weariness like a crown.
And who could blame her, with the things she had done?
Ah — but Shizuka hadn’t understood, back then, why her mother was always so exhausted. Why she bickered with the Emperor whenever she saw him. Why it was so important to her that her daughter was more than a duelist, more than a fighter, more like her father, and less like …
The Empress frowns. She runs the string along the length of the zither, toward the other peg. Thanks to her modest height, it takes a bit of doing. She manages. She always does.
Perhaps she will be a musician yet. She will play the music Handa wrote for View from Rolling Hills, she thinks.
The melody is simple enough that she’s memorized it already, soothing enough that she can lose herself in its gentle rise and fall.
Funny how you can hate a poem until the day you relate to it. Then it becomes your favorite.
She strikes the first notes — and that is when the footfalls meet her ears.
Footfalls meet her ears, and her frown only grows deeper.
No visitors, she said. No treating with courtiers, no inane trade meetings, no audiences with the public, nothing. Just her and the zither for an hour. One hour! Was that so difficult to understand?
She shakes her head. Beneath her breath she mutters an apology to her father.
One of the newer pages scurries to the threshold. He’s wearing black and silver robes emblazoned with Dao Doan Province’s seal. Is this Jirotul’s latest son? He has so many, she can’t keep track anymore. Eventually she’s going to have to make an effort to remember the servants’ names.
The new boy prostrates himself. He offers her a package wrapped in dark cloth and tied together with twine. It’s so bulky the boy’s hands quiver just holding it.
Some idiot suitor’s latest gift. Only one thing makes a person foolhardy enough to contradict the Empress’s will, and that is infatuation. Not love. Love has the decency to send up a note, not whatever this was.
“You may speak,” she says.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” he says, “this package was, we think, addressed to you —”
“You think?” She crooks a brow. “Rise.”
The boy rises to his knees. She beckons him closer, and he scrambles forward, dropping the package in the process. It’s a book. It must be. That sort of heavy thwack can come only from a book.
“Doan-tun,” she says, “you are not in trouble, but tell me: Why are you bringing me something you can’t be certain is mine?”
He’s close enough now that she can see the wisps of black hair clinging to his upper lip. Good. From a distance, it looked like he’d taken a punch to the face.
“Your Imperial Majesty, Most Serene Empress Phoenix —”
“‘Your Imperial Majesty’ suffices in private conversation.”
He swallows. “Your Imperial Majesty,” he says, “the handwriting is, if you will forgive my bluntness, atrocious. When I received it, I had a great deal of difficulty deciphering it.”
O-Shizuka turns toward the zither as the boy speaks. For not the first time in recent years, she considers trimming her nails. But she likes the look of them, likes the glittering dust left behind by the crushed gems she dipped them in each morning. “Continue.”
As he speaks she runs her fingertips along the strings of her zither. If she closes her eyes she can still hear View from Rolling Hills.
“I sought out the aid of the elder servants,” he says. “One of them pointed out that this is in the horse script.”
O-Shizuka stops mid-motion.
No one writes to her in Qorin. No Hokkaran courtiers bother learning it. Horselords are beneath them, and thus there is no reason to learn their tongue. It’s the same reason only Xianese lords learn to read and write that language, the same reason Jeon is a cipher more than a tongue, the same reason one only ever reads of Doanese Kings in faded, musty scrolls.
The saying goes that to survive is Qorin — but the same can be said of the Hokkaran Empire, scavenging parts from the nations it swallows up, swearing that these borrowed clothes have been Imperial Finery all along. How did that drivel go? Hokkaro is a mother to unruly young nations, ever watchful, ever present. Shizuka always hated it.
So the letter cannot be from a Hokkaran, for what Hokkaran would deign to debase themselves in such a way? Burqila’s calligraphy is serviceable, if not perfect; the servants would have no trouble with anything she sent. Which leaves only one Qorin who might write to her in the rough horse-tongue.
It’s been eight years, she thinks, eight years since …
“I asked one of your older handmaidens, Keiko-lao, and she said your old friend Oshiro-sun couldn’t write Hokkaran at all, so I thought —”
Sun. There are thirty-two different honorifics in Hokkaran — eight sets of four. Each set is used only in specific circumstances. Using the wrong one is akin to walking up to someone and spitting into their mouth.
So why was it that, to this day, Shefali remained Oshiro-sun? The boy should know better. Sun is for outsiders, and Shefali was …
“Give it to me,” O-Shizuka snaps.
He offers it to her again, and when she takes it, her hands brush against his. That fleeting contact with the Empress is more than any other boy his age could dream of.
Naturally, he will tell all the others about it the moment he has a chance. His stories will be a bit more salacious, as he is a young man, and she is the Virgin Empress, and they are alone together save the guards standing outside.
O-Shizuka’s hands tremble as she reaches for the paper attached to the package. Yes, she who is known as the Lady of Ink, the finest calligrapher in the Empire: her hands tremble like an old woman’s.
The Hokkaran calligraphy is closer to a pig’s muddy footprints than to anything legible, but the bold Qorin characters are unmistakable.
For O-Shizuka of Hokkaro, from Barsalyya Shefali Alshar.
That name!
Nothing could make her smile like this, not even hearing the Sister’s secret song itself.
“Doan-tun,” she says, her voice little more than a whisper. “Cancel all my appointments for the next two days.”
“What?” he says. “Your Imperial Majesty, the Merchant Prince of Sur-Shar arrives tomorrow!”
“And he can make himself quite comfortable in whichever brothel he chooses until I am prepared to speak to him,” O-Shizuka says. “Unless my uncle has finally done me the favor of dying, I am not to be bothered. You are dismissed.”
“But, Your Imperial Majesty —”
“Dismissed,” repeats Shizuka, this time sharp as the nails of her right hand. The boy leaves.
And she is alone.
Alone as she has been for eight years. Alone with her crown, her zither, her paper, her ink, her Imperial bed.
Alone.
But as she unwraps the package and uncovers the book underneath, she can hear Shefali’s voice in her mind. She can smell her: horses and sweat, milk and leather. And there, pressed between the first two pages —
Two pine needles.
When her eyes first land on the Qorin characters in the book, O-Shizuka’s heart begins to sing.
CHAPTER 2
THE COLORS OF THE FLOWERS
Shizuka, my Shizuka. If Grandmother Sky is good, then this finds you sitting on your throne, eating far too many sweets, and complaining about all the meetings you must attend.
My apologies for the awful calligraphy. I know you are shaking your head even as you read this, saying something about my brushstrokes not being decisive enough.
I have so many questions for you, and I’m certain you have just as many for me. Here in the East, I hear rumors of what you’ve been up to. Is it true you returned to Shiseiki Province and slew a Demon General? You must tell me the story. And do not brush off the details, Shizuka. I can almost hear your voice.
“It really was nothing….”
The day will come when we share stories over kumaq and rice wine. I know it will. But until then, paper and ink are all we have. They are old friends of yours, and have kindly agreed to keep you company in my absence.
Do you remember the first time we met, Shizuka, or has that long faded from your memory? It is my favorite story in all the world to tell. Oh, you know it well. But let me tell it all the same. Let me have my comfort. Without you, I am in the dark. It has been so long, Shizuka, that I might mistake a candle for the sun.
Our births — that is where I should start, though I doubt there exists a soul who has not heard about yours. Hokkarans rely on numbers and superstition more than they rely on sense, so when you popped out of your mother’s womb on the Eighth of Ji-Dao, the whole Empire boomed with joy. Your existence alone was cause for celebration. Your uncle, the Emperor, had let fourteen years go by without producing an heir.
And there was the matter of your parents, as well. The most well-loved poet of his time and the national hero who slew a Demon General with nothing but herfabled sword and my mother’s assistance, those were your father and mother. When you were born, both were nearing forty.
I cannot imagine the elation the Empire felt after holding its breath for so long. Fourteen years without an heir, fourteen years spent tiptoeing on eggshells. All it would take was one errant arrow to bring your entire dynasty to its knees.
So you saved them. From the first moment of your life, Shizuka, you have been saving people. But you have never been subtle, never been modest, and so you chose the eighth of Ji-Dao to be born.
The eighth day of the eighth month, in the year dedicated to the Daughter — the eighth member of the Heavenly Family. Legend has it, you were born eight minutes into Last Bell, as well, though no one can really know for certain. I cannot say it would surprise me. You do not do anything halfway.
But there was another thing about your birth — something we shared.
The moment my mother put you in your mother’s hands, two pine needles fell on your forehead, right between your eyes.
One month later, on the first of Qurukai, I was born beneath the Eternal Sky. Like all Qorin, I was born with a patch of blue on my bottom; unlike the others, mine was so pale, it was nearly white. I was not screaming, and I did not cry until my mother slapped me. The sanvaartains present told her that this was a bad sign — that a baby who did not cry at birth would make up for it when she died in agony.
I can imagine you shaking your head. It’s true — Qorin portents are never pleasant.
But my mother scoffed, just as your mother scoffed, and presented me to the sanvaartain for blessings anyway. Just as the sanvaartain held the bowl of milk above my head, just as the first drops splashed onto my brow, she saw them.
Two pine needles stuck together between my eyes.
There are no pine trees in that part of the steppes.
When my mother told yours about what had happened, our fates were decided. The pine needles were an omen — we would always be friends, you and I, always together. To celebrate our good fortune, your father wrote a poem on the subject. Don’t you find it amusing, Shizuka? Everyone thinks that poem was about your parents, but it was about us the whole time.
When we were three, our mothers introduced us. Shizuru and Alshara wrote to each other for months about it. For all your mother’s incredible abilities, for all her skills and talents, conceiving was almost impossible for her. Your mother, the youngest of five bamboo mat salespeople, worried you’d grow up lonely. Burqila Alshara wasn’t having that. She offered to take you in for a summer on the steppes, so that we might share our earliest memories together.
But the moment you laid eyes on me, something within you snapped. I cannot know what it was — I have no way of seeing into your thoughts — but I can only imagine the intensity of it.
All I know is that the first thing I can remember seeing, the first sight to embed itself like an arrow in the trunk of my mind, is your face contorted with rage.
And when I say rage, you must understand the sort of anger I am discussing. Normal children get upset when they lose a toy or when their parents leave the room. They weep, they beat their little fists against the ground, they scream.
But it was not so with you. Your lips were drawn back like a cat’s, your teeth flashing in the light. Your whole face was taut with fury. Your scream was wordless and dark, sharp as a knife.
You moved so fast, they could not stop you. A rush of red, yes — the color of your robes. Flickering golden ornaments in your hair. Dragons, or phoenixes, it matters not. Snarling, you wrapped your hands around my throat. Spittle dripped onto my forehead. When you shook me, my head knocked against the floor.
I struggled, but I could not throw you off. You’d latched on. Whatever hate drove you made you ten times as vicious as any child has a right to be. In desperation I tried rolling away from you.
On the third roll, we knocked into a brazier. Burning oil spilled out and seared your shoulder. Only that immense pain was enough to distract you. By the time your mother pulled you off me, I had bruises along my throat, and you had a scar on your shoulder.
O-Shizuru apologized, or maybe O-Itsuki. I think it must have been both of them. Your mother chided you for what you’d done, while your father swore to Alshara that you’d never done anything like this before.
Before that day, before you tried to kill me, no one ever said no to you.
You did not come to stay with us that summer.
Soon, Shizuru scheduled your first appointment with your music tutor. The problem, in her mind, was that you were too much like her. If only you fell in love with poetry, like your father; or music or calligraphy; cooking or engineering or the medical arts; even acting! Anything.
Anything but warfare.
And as for my mother’s reaction? As far as my mother was concerned, O-Shizuru’s only sin in life was not learning how to speak Qorin after all their years as friends. That attitude extended to you, as well, though you had not earned it. O-Shizuru and Burqila Alshara spent eight days being tortured together, and years after that rescuing one another. When the Emperor insisted that O-Shizuru tour the Empire with an honor guard at her back, your mother scoffed in his face.
“Dearest Brother-in-Law,” she said, “I’ll run around the border like a show horse, if that’s what you want me to do, but I’m not taking the whole stable with me. Burqila and I lived, so Burqila and I will travel, and let the Mother carry to sleep any idiot who says otherwise. Your honored self included.”
Legend has it that O-Shizuru did not wait for an answer, or even bow on the way out of the palace. She left for the stables, saddled her horse, and rode out to Oshiro as soon as she could. Thus began our mothers’ long journey through the Empire, with your father doing his best to try to keep up.
So — no, there was nothing your mother could do wrong. And when you stand in so great a shadow as O-Shizuru’s, well — my mother was bound to overlook your failings.
But my mother did insist on one thing — taking a clipping of your hair, and braiding it into mine. She gave your mother a clipping of my hair and instruction, for the same reason. Old Qorin tradition, you see — part of your soul stays in your hair when the wind blows through it. By braiding ours together, she hoped to end our bickering.
(Continues…)Excerpted from The Tiger’s Daughter by K Arsenault Rivera, Miriam Weinberg. Copyright © 2017 K Arsenault Rivera. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
S. Finkel –
I loved reading this book. It’s moody and sweet and exciting in turns, full of lush imagery with gentle swells of story that build to evocative and thrilling storms. Rivera’s talent really shines in her descriptive language – you can practically smell the flowers of a royal garden or feel the cold wind off the steppes as you read. The protagonists, Shefali (the narrator) and Shizuka (to whom the novel addressed) are the daughters of two royal families, with neighboring lands and vastly different cultures. Shefali is the painfully shy heir of a line of nomadic warriors, raised to ride in the hard northern steppes. Shizuka is the spoiled niece to an ineffective emperor, taught the refined noble arts of calligraphy and swordsmanship in a sheltered, luxurious court. Though their countries are historical enemies, their mothers fought together against the demon army that encroached on their lands a generation ago, thus fating their daughters to meet. As many forces work to bring Shefali and Shizuka together as to drive them apart, as the demons gather to invade again and the two girls prepare themselves to defend their homes. I grew to love these two, particularly Shefali, who tells the story with such self deprecation and such hopeless devotion to her lover that sometimes you just want to give her a hug. There were some truly chilling moments throughout, too – the demons are a sufficiently horrifying nemesis to counterpoint the endearing love story.Three main points which I think anyone looking to read this book ought to know:1) The romance is the central story here. The fantasy and action elements are the scene and tone in which these two women meet each other and fall in love. The primary plot is about how they lose and find (and lose and find and lose etc.) each other throughout this mythic course of events. While there is plenty of excitement in the supernatural fight scenes and political intrigues, it’s not the focus of the story and the arc of the novel deviates sharply from your standard genre fare. The comparison to anime and manga that people have noted here and on Goodreads is apt in this regard – this was definitely not inspired by the story formulae that Western fantasy usually uses. I saw more of modern Japanese genre fiction in the action scenes (decidedly dark), the fantasy (mostly horror), and the romance (tones of desperate tragedy even during its triumphs). I suspect the next books will return to a more typical Hero’s Journey, with a more defined Big Bad and the inevitable face-off between the two protagonists and the demonic menace that threatens their homelands.1.5) The Tiger’s Daughter is unapologetically feminist and LGBT. Though characters throughout the story raise eyebrows at the female warriors and lesbian romance that drive the plot, the author never gives any kind of apology to the reader. It is taken on face value that women can fight and lead and fall in love, no matter the culture or circumstances. I know I’m probably going to use the word refreshing a lot in this review, but this whole book is like a cool drink of water in the desert. Just to be clear, there are a few very explicit romance scenes in this book, should that matter to a potential reader or for anyone buying this for a younger reader.2) This isn’t a faithful representation of Japan, Mongolia, or China. I would put it this way: Westeros is to Medieval Western Europe as The Tiger’s Daughter’s countries are to Medieval East Asia. They are informed and inspired by the mythology, cultures, and histories, but they don’t bear any strict resemblance, anymore than the Battle of the Blackwater portrayed accurate historical warfare. That said, I found it refreshing to read a fantasy novel that didn’t feel like a clever retelling of someone’s D&D campaign. It’s nice to take a break from bards, elves, plate armor, and magic spells.3) This is an epistolary novel, with all the occasionally improbable storytelling that implies. It mostly felt clear and comfortable, but yes, there are some parts where the narrator is describing a scene to someone who was there to see it. It’s a hazard of the form, for sure, but I didn’t mind. The letter format felt intimate and confessional and gave insight into the characters and relationships. It also lends a kind of antique tone to the story on its own, just because it’s not used much in modern fiction, especially the long form epistolary, where the bulk of the manuscript is just one character’s single letter to another. It was refreshing to have a different frame than you usually see in genre fiction.I’d recommend this book to anyone looking for female-centric, emotionally-driven fantasy with a strong descriptive voice and fresh approach to genre fiction. I’m looking forward to the next books in the series!(Disclaimer: I was given an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. I have since purchased a copy of the novel to support the wonderful work Rivera is doing.)
stormbrynger329 –
This was an excellent story, I have read short stories from the author and this is a beautiful story full of detail and engagement.
Eastern Sunset Reader –
My Review: I finally picked this book up after hearing Sam from Thoughts on Tomes on Youtube mention it as one of her favorite books repeatedly. The cover is stunning and the synopsis was really intriguing, I found the setting (and Mongolian inspiration) to be really intriguing. I buddy read this book with someone from Instagram for the Tome Topple challenge and I am glad I had someone to discuss the book with as I read it! The book is written in a really beautiful almost lyrical way, the words just flow together like music.Admittedly, I had a few concerns when starting the book, first being the various names each characters is called, and this turned out to be a problem as they gain more names as the story continues and some of them are extremely similar (I highly recommend listening to an audio book to hear the pronunciations while reading, at least for a little while). Then next concern I had was that the beautiful writing would be the focus and we would loose the story or possibly even the character connections due to it; that ended up not being a problem, the beautiful writing only added to the story and heightened the intensity of the relationship between Shizuka and Shefali. In fact, the love between these two characters is so strong that it made my heartache and brought me to tears a few times.Even though I was aware that this is a fantasy, I honestly wasn’t expecting the magical elements or the demons. While it did add a little to the story and it does become a major plot point, I like that the focus remained on their relationship and own personal character development.While the story is supposedly written as letters and present day moments, in truth it is one long letter to the point of being a book with brief moments of present day reactions of the one reading it. I was honestly expecting more of letters back and forth throughout the story but it is just one letter from one character and the other character reading and reacting. With that said I really think that it word well for this story. It is not often that a second person narration works in books and thankfully Rivera really pulled it off in this one.This book may not be for every reader, and not even for all fantasy fans. It does start off a little slow but it does pick up pace as it goes, but for an over 500 page book it can be daunting. I am beyond excited for the next book and have already pre-ordered it!My Rating: I absolutely fell in love with Shizuka and Shefali and especially their love story. There were a few hiccups but all in all this was a beautiful story that really pulled me in and held me throughout. I give it a rating of Four Paws and a Stump Wag!
Kitsilver –
This book.THIS BOOK.I read it in a day and a half, engrossed was I. Actually at first I stopped after chapter 1, a little turned off by the unfamiliar names and not getting into it right away. But when I went back to it and really gave it a chance.Oh my gosh.I feel like I’ve been waiting for this book for a long time. We finally have more strong female heroines in our stories now, but overwhelmingly still, the hero in a fantasy novel is male. Here we have not one but TWO incredible heroines, each worthy of legend.Who love each other. Not as a friends, but as lovers.I’ve seen good and bad lesbian romance novels, and the few that dabble in fantasy rarely feel truly fleshed out. They lack the world building and immersion and epic-ness that straight male heroes have always enjoyed. Where can I find the love story that represents me in a fantasy world where those same women are both badasses, and going on adventures that I will happily follow?Not until this book. This book gives us that epic, the stars will end before I stop loving you, kind of love, with heroines and adventures that are the stuff of legend (from Asian cultures, another oft neglected part of fantasy!)Nothing is easy for the heroines in this book. And their story is rife with pain and danger and uncertainty. But the characters feel true and their love feels real.I would recommend this book to anyone looking for an excellent fantasy novel in a fresh setting with original protagonists, but esp to all the women loving women who have yearned to see themselves in these books. It made me smile, it made me laugh, made me go “oh crap!” and made me stay up till 430 am bc I wanted to see it through. It could do the same for you.Cant wait to read the next one in the series. I’m so glad there’s already a next one.
Grace –
The Tiger’s Daughter – and the full Ascendant series by K Arsenault Rivera – beautifully balances unforgettable love with magic, mystery, social critique, and political intrigue. This lesbian feminist series leaves a lasting impact with unforgettable characters developed through an expertly written perspective-switching style. Spanning the silver steppes of the nomadic horse clans to the ornate palaces of the Empire’s capitol, the characters navigate cultures while deconstructing histories wrongly told, acting for a better now, and building futures through will and love.Shizuka and Shefali expressions of devotion and commitment to each other and their peoples grow respect and love in the reader. Thank you, K, for writing such an honest and expansive world told from the perspective of out and proud queer womyn leaders. The characters feel so real I often try to channel Shefali’s wisdom and Shizuka’s determination; a testament to K. Arsenault Rivera in the ability to write such realistic, yet wholly otherworldy people.Highly recommend this book, especially if you love any of the following:- When Women Were Warriors by Catherine M. Wilson- Princess of Dorsa (The Chronicles of Dorsa) by Eliza Andrews- Clan of the Cave Bear (Earth Children Series) by Jean M. Auel- Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha ShannonThese books improve as they go, with number 3 being the best. I am THRILLED that the author has committed to Sixteen Swords, a prequel story told by the mothers Burqila Alshara and Minami Shizuru.THANK YOU, K Arsenault Rivera!The world needs more queer feminist stories.
Ashley Johnson –
This book has quite a few things going for it, and quite a few things against it.What I liked: 1) The framing device. This story is written with a older O-Shizuka reading a letter from Shefali, eagerly waiting her return. This letter retells the girls lives from child to adulthood. Epistolaries are not common in epic fantasy, so I was intrigued when it was used here. 2) I liked that this story has larger-than-life characters and a literally goddess. Characters who know they are very powerful, know they are epic heroes, and know that they have a divine fate. 3) The descriptions of the demons and their powers made menacing and dangerous. 4) The prose is pretty good. 5) The subtle and not so subtle racism between the Hokkarans and the Qorin.What I Didn’t Liked: 1) I thought this book would be more like traditional epic fantasy books in that we the readers see the heroes go on their journey to stop evil. However, this book is set after that fact. The conflict with the demon generals and the misfortunes plaguing the Hokkaran empire is left unresolved. This book felt like a backstory to the real story. 2) This book could be around 100 pages shorter. Somewhere between the 20%-50% mark I was bored because not much was happening and the story stalled for a bit. 3) The actual romance between Shefali and O-Shizuka appears very late into the story, like halfway or more into the book. I would have liked to see more action, particularly battling demons. 4) It bothered me how devoted Shefali is to O-Shizuka. The two girls are bounded by fate, but Shefali followed O-Shizuka in all her plans no matter how reckless and stupid. Shefali is the one who is hurt the most and gets in trouble the most in all of O-Shizuka’s plans, but she is okay with it. Shefali sacrifices a lot for O-Shizuka, but not once did she fill any anger or resentment at her. It bothered me that O-Shizuka did not face any lasting consequences, or more appropriate ones. 5) I wished the book had more of O-Shizuka’s POV. A third of the book is in her POV, the rest is in Shefali’s. The book does suffer from its framing device in that I didn’t get to see much O-Shizuka’s internal thoughts and feelings. I wanted to see more of her struggles as a lonely, caged empress and a literal goddess. I especially wanted to see her guilt in unintentionally hurting Shefali through her plans. If the book was 50/50 in their perspectives, it could have been much better. 6) The Chinese, Japanese, and Mongolian cultural mix is a little clunky.All in all, it is a solid debut. My opinion of it changes everyday. It was a decent enough read that I will most likely pick up the sequel, because it sounds like it would be more interesting.
KS –
So this is a bit of a shocker. First, this book is a romance, I mean sure a dark fantasy romance (no, none of that vampire nonsense; an actual high fantasy) but a Romance. On top of that the entire story focuses almost exclusively on the two lovers in question. Just given this info, this should be a ridiculous YA genre book with poorly-written tropes. Instead, and clearly owing to the writer’s high level of literary and storytelling craft, this is a deftly woven and compelling tale, if not quite a masterpiece.The setting is in two cultures, a dominant Japanese-like culture (from which our first protagonist hails, the Empress Shizuka) and the second, a nomadic culture (with a matriarchal twist!) set in Central Asia-like steppes (Mongolia, Kazhakhistan) where Shefali, our second protagonist is from. The story follows their life from the moment they are born till adulthood and their journey of discovery, both of the world and themselves, and repeated travails along the way. Love conquers all is often a cheesy trope but not here, as the two lovers face down both human and demon enemies, get scarred, hurt and broken but somehow keep the faith in each other and their love.While I indent to keep avoiding the romance genre like the plague, that rule does not apply to this author!
C. Gaudiano –
‘The Tiger’s Daughter’ and its sequel, ‘The Phoenix Empress,’ are, bar none, THE best novels I have read this entire year. Rivera writes with the elegance of a Japanese poet and maintains this writing style consistently through her books. They ring true on all levels for me. If you read ‘The Tiger’s Daughter,’ you will be sucked in and not let go until the very last page.Rivera does not explain a lot; she lets her readers figure it out for themselves or just entices them into accepting the unexplained things, trusting that explanations will come later. Readers learn her world as they read her books.This is a story of two nascent goddesses who start as young girls with preternatural abilities and a sense of destiny about them. The book is told in the form of a letter from one to the other after the pair have been separated for almost a decade. It follows their lives and their relationship as they slowly learn about themselves and each other and about the enemy they must eventually face. This is the first book in what seems to be either a trilogy or a tetralogy. Whichever it is, I will be dreadfully sorry to read the last page of the last book, because I love these characters and this world.’The Tiger’s Daughter’ is K. Arsenault Rivera’s debut novel. I can’t wait to read more of her books!
cannibalgnome –
Structured predominantly as a long letter, THE TIGER’S DAUGHTER by K. Arsenault Rivera tells a riveting story set in an East-Asian based fantasy world that is beautifully described with fleshed out cultures, locations, and characters. Barsalyya Shefali and O-Shizuka are two young women bound together by fate, friendship, and love who stand against not only expectations but also against the demonically virulent blight to which their world is slowly succumbing.Rivera does a masterful job plucking heartstrings with her writing and imbuing the proceedings with a graceful, poetic haste. I was reading the last 50 or so pages in public, and I kept having to take deep breaths to help hold back the tears of emotion that repeatedly welled up in the corners of my eyes. This is one of those books that, despite being 500+ pages, reads like the wind and leaves you wanting more. It appears that Rivera intends to turn this into a series, which I am absolutely here for, however she still does a great job of wrapping up the specific tale told in this novel. As a bonus, there’s a short excerpt from a memoir penned by one of the book’s characters that provides additional backstory in an equally moving way.Should you read this book? The answer, of course, is yes…yes you should. Journey to the Hokkaran Empire and the endless plains of the Qorin tribes. Gaze upon the Wall of Flowers and wilt beneath the burning eyes of demons. Witness swordplay fluid as water and the precision of an arrow in flight. Believe me, you will not regret it.
Jessi T –
Got it for my partner and she likes the book so far. LGBTQ friendly.Big bummer, there’s about 33pages of misprint from a completely different book. Pages 224-257 have pages from the book Hush. Wish we would’ve noticed sooner. 😞 She’s hooked on it.