The best fantasy books with magic, romance, and a dash of subversion

Imagine if Downton Abbey neighbored Faerie. Then make the idea ten times more awesome, and you have The Lord of Stariel. I discovered it right before the final book in the quartet came out and binged them all.

The premise—a family’s magical estate will choose its next lord after the old one passes on—is intriguing enough. But what really sold me on this book is Hetta, the prodigal daughter. She’s level-headed, sharp-witted, and unwilling to be limited by society’s (or her family’s) ideas about the proper role of a lady. 

I don’t want to tell you too much about her counterpart—the book should unfold its secrets. But he’d make a strong showing in a Best Hero contest.

This book—and the entire Earthsinger Chronicles—is a must-read. It’s the story of Jasminda the outcast and Jack the spy, but it’s also a cinematic, immersive tale about two neighboring lands—one ruled by a terrifying autocrat and the other filled with fear and hate for the refugees who escaped him. From folktale excerpts at the start of each chapter to powerfully drawn secondary characters, L. Penelope’s world never gives you a chance to recollect that it doesn’t really exist.

You also get deeply romantic moments like this: “I don’t know what to do with you," she whispered, stroking his face, her lips a breath from his own. "I cannot keep you, but I cannot turn you away." Be still my heart.

In the nineteenth-century setting of Snowpelled, the proper role of a lady is politics, and magic is the domain of men. Cassandra Harwood is the one scandalous exception—but something’s gone wrong. At the start of the story, all we know is that even the simplest spell is now out of her reach.

The mystery unfolds as Cassandra attempts to outsmart an elf lord and avoid her (absolutely delightful) ex-fiancé, the latter task no less difficult than the former. 

I love third-person point of view, but one of the joys of this book is getting the story directly from Cassandra—a woman who became a magician by “utterly refusing to give up on my great plans until the world around me finally saw sense and accepted them.” 

What if a society blessed one form of magic use while all but criminalizing the other? Marnie Becker was born a witch in this world, which puts her forever at the margins. She tries to stay (mostly) out of trouble—until it finds her in a big way.

I absolutely love that magic here has a scent, from a hint of maple syrup to a reek of burnt meat. And that her love interest, Bran, declares, “You are never more beautiful to me than when you fix my math.” And that Marnie starts to believe she could help change her country for the better.

It’s probably clear by this point that I love books whose characters wrestle with injustice. Sorcerer to the Crown does that—taking on racism, sexism, classism, and colonialism—with a page-turning, witty comedy-of-manners plot. 

Zacharias Wythe, the first Black sorcerer to lead the Royal Society of Unnatural Philosophers, is in a bind. England’s magic is fading for reasons unknown, his racist colleagues are trying to push him out, the ghost of his predecessor keeps offering unwanted advice and he has to give a speech to a girls’ school because a friend fobbed it off on him. What he finds there increases his troubles—and might save his life.

Oh, the characters. You will not forget them. Especially Prunella Gentleman, who has nothing to her name but “her magic and her absurd effrontery,” as Zacharias puts it… as he’s falling for her, of course.