Gothic fantasy may seem as though it’s more suited for a Fall release than the early days of summer. But Rachel Gillig’s latest novel, The Knight and the Moth, is the sort of haunting tale that unspools like gossamer, limned and glimmering in a way that feels much more fitting for slowly lengthening evenings and warm nights. Many readers will likely find their way into this story thanks to the book’s stunningly beautiful cover, which (thankfully) accurately conveys the vibes within its pages.
The first installment in Gillig’s new Stonewater Kingdom series, The Knight and the Moth is delicate and delicious in every way, boasting a fascinating premise, a uniquely dark Gothic atmosphere, and the sort of worldbuilding that’s bursting with vivid imagery and shockingly lived-in detail. Set in a medieval-esque world where magic is real, gargoyles are sentient, and isolated hamlets are held together almost solely through the power of belief, its tone is almost painfully haunting, and its premise is uniquely fresh. Gilling’s atmospheric prose has never been better, and while some of the narrative themes will be familiar to those who read her Shepherd King duology, they’re more sharply realized and executed here.
The story follows Six, one of the nameless Diviners of Aisling Cathedral, former foundlings whose lives are dedicated to scrying the future in the church’s magical spring. This process isn’t nearly as quaint or pleasant as it sounds; however, these young women are forced to drown over and over again in order to receive messages from the six gods known as the Omens. The Diviners constantly wear face coverings, have sacrificed their former identities to serve their gods, and are not permitted to leave the cathedral grounds. Six and her cohort of sisters are nearing the end of their proscribed decade of service, and are beginning to look forward to what might come next for them, from exploring the kingdom they’ve never seen to falling in love.
But when the newly crowned king of Traum, Benedict Castor III, comes to have his fortune divined, Six sees dark signs in his future and finds herself unexpectedly drawn to one of his knights, a rude nonbeliever named Roderick “Rory” Myndacious who mocks her faith and traditions. Things take a decidedly dark(er) turn when her sister Diviners begin to vanish one by one—Six vows to discover what has happened to them, but to do that, she’ll need some help from the king—and from his heretic knight. What follows is a sprawling adventure through a meticulously imagined and lore-rich world, as Six searches for answers that may well change everything she was taught to believe about herself and the gods themselves.
What follows is a story of mystery and faith, self-discovery and myth-making. As Six searches for her missing sisters with the help of Rory and a strange sentient gargoyle who calls everyone Bartholomew for reasons no one really understands, she begins to learn not just how much of herself she has sacrificed in the name of being a vessel for others, but whether destiny is something that befalls her or a fate she herself is capable of choosing. As she and the king’s retinue journey across the kingdom, Gillig delves into the different cultures of its various regions, and the stories of the various Omens—the Artful Brigand, the Harried Scribe, the Ardent Oarsman, the Faithful Forester, the Heartsore Weaver, and the creature known only as the Moth—became gods. Gillig’s worldbuilding is especially rich and layered in these sections, and the story of Traum seems to exist well beyond the pages of the story we’re reading.
The slow-burning romance that develops between Six and Rory isn’t anything regular romantasy readers haven’t seen before, though the prickly banter between the two is particularly deftly written and the resultant bond that grows between them feels more earned than in many stories of this ilk. Rory has his share of history and trauma to unpack, and his relationship with Six is tightly intertwined with his own complex feelings about faith and believing in something larger than himself. They’re both broken and damaged, but in a way that feels as though their jagged edges fit together more often than not. And, perhaps most importantly, the romance is never the most important part of this story. Instead, that honor rightly belongs to Six’s emotional journey, which runs the gamut from desperation to fury, and from desolation to strength.
Stepping out into a world she knows almost nothing about and with no real memory of who she was before she came to Aisling, Six must face down all of her preconceived notions about herself, her faith, her past, and the kingdom she lives in. Her growing anger over the way she has been manipulated and controlled in the past is both cathartic and propulsive, and it’s deeply satisfying to watch her not only begin to make choices for herself but to outright revel in doing so.
The story of Aisling Cathedral, the Omens, and the girls forced to divine for them both is somehow even darker and more complicated than it appears at first sight. An ode to the power of storytelling—to create, to reshape, to translate—The Knight and the Moth is indeed beautifully written. But underneath its softly spun prose, lush imagery, and romantic (in every sense of the word) vibes, there is also a spine of steel, and it’s that dichotomy—also reflected on the novel’s cover—that makes this book such an interesting and entertaining read.
The Knight and the Moth is available now wherever books are sold.
Lacy Baugher Milas is the Books Editor at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter and Bluesky at @LacyMB
