I was a bit apprehensive about picking up this book. On one hand, a friend whose reading tastes often match mine has been singing it praises, and also, I'm morbidly fascinated by the history of nuclear research and related disasters in the Soviet Union, the Kyshtym dysaster in particular. So I was curious about a potential new take on it. On the other hand, at the time when everyone around me loved The Watchmaker of Filigree Street, I couldn't even get past the first couple of chapters, so I thought Natasha Pulley just may not be the author for me. And also, I'm often wary about reading books set in Russia/USSR/any post-Soviet countries written by Western authors, because for some incomprehensible reason, they always get a lot of very basic things wrong and I end up being constantly taken out of the story. I don't know what it is about Russia/USSR that makes it so hard to research. I know we Slavs are weird, but we're not aliens. It should be possible to get the facts straight, the information is out there!

Anyway, I did pick up the book eventually, and I don't regret it. The plot was solid, the vibes were just right, and while I can't say I liked any of the characters, I definitely found them fascinating. The titular Valery is a textbook example of the Well-Intentioned Extremist trope who saves the good guys and mass-murders the bad ones with equal cheer. His friend and love interest, the KGB agent Shenkov, is the kind of character I kind of love to hate: someone who has decided the only way to combat an evil system is by joining it and committing lesser evils in its name: "If I don't do it, a psychopath would do the same thing but worth." Honestly, the only two characters I would actually want to hang out with were Shenkov's wife Natasha and Albert the literal octopus, but I found all the rest of them endlessly fascinating. There were a lot of super poignant scenes here, some of which are definitely going to stick with me for ages, like Valery's conversation with Shenkov's daughter about death, or his and Shenkov's night in Moscow. I also loved the way the science was woven into the plot, and how solid it was, or at least felt to me. This book contains a better explanation of what radiation is than any scientific article I've encountered. 

As for the portrayal of USSR... um. Yes, I did get taken out of the story numerous times. The big picture stuff was actually spot on! The dystopian feel of the communist reality, the state's constant reliance on being overrestimated by the evil west while underestimating the enemy like there's no tomorrow, everyone being an unreliable narrator in their own life because you've gotta keep telling lies that you know everyone knows are lies but the point is to keep telling them. Ideas before people. All the interactions with Moscow authorities. The mentions of the famine and the Ukrainian nationalists. All of that was definitely well done and familiar, both through my parents' and grandparents stories and attitudes and to an extent first-hand, because hey, modern Russia isn't exactly far off from its USSR roots, especially nowadays.

But then came the minor stuff that just kept making me facepalm and roll my eyes. Early on, Valery arrives to Sverdlovsk and comments that he's never heard of it, and that alone almost made me drop the book because I couldn't imagine being immersed into a story that treats the facts so damn wrong. Listen. It's absolutely impossible that an educated Soviet man didn't know what Sverdlovsk was. Just 100% impossible, okay? I don't know what the author was even thinking. Maybe that he hasn't ever lived anywhere near it or something, that Russia is huge? But, well, it's an equivalent of a California never knowing of Boston or something. It's ridiculous. The city that was known as Sverdlovsk under Soviets is currently called Yekateringburg. It was also called Yekaterinburg in the past, way before the USSR even existed. It was founded in goddamn 1723. It's been the site of numerous historical events, INCLUDING the establishment of the USSR itself! It's literally where they shot the last Tzar! I... I can't even. This makes negative amount of sense for Valery to never have heard of it. 

Or, like, here are Shenkov's thoughts about another prominent city: "Chelyabinsk had no military significance. Its largest industry was tractor-building." Are you kidding me? We're in cold war times, post WW2. It's not what people talked about, but it's what everyone and their dog knew: tractor-building = tank-building and god-knows-what-other-military-shit-building, too. During WW2, it was where plenty of the factories went to make supplies for the frontlines. It didn't just have a "tractor-building" industry, by the by, it also had a railway-building factory that coincidentally (because every industry = military industry in the communist heaven, remember?) was the place where some of the best Soviet tanks of their time were first constructed, and that wasn't even a secret, that was a point of pride. They made artillery there, and missiles, and plenty of other shit, and this was a place where they started training military personnel during WW2 and never, ever stopped, and this is all literally Wikipedia-level research. 

There were plenty of other details, like numerous mentions of God/Jesus. I'm not saying that never happened, but people of these characters' age, in these characters' positions, and under these characters' circumstances wouldn't have mentioned God so often. They'd go for equivalents of "damn it" or expletives or literally anything else that didn't go against the Soviet world view, and religion went against the Soviet world view. They literally had a subject called "scientific atheism" in every university. It was a point of importance to eradicate faith. Or, like, the constant presence of tv remotes? I don't know, maybe some top-end tv set's had those, but it's not what I associate with Soviet-made tech at all. I distinctly remember how my entire family was having fun with our first remote for our first non-Soviet-made tv-set in the 1990s. Before that, when you wanted to switch the channel, you got up, went to your tv, and turned a knob to the side of the screen. It wasn't like you'd have to do it often. There were 2-5 channels to pick from at most, depending on the time period and the region you were in.

There's also the matter of the book being written in a distinctly British English with lots of specific turns of spech that make no sense in context when you look at them closely. A random example: "he would ask them whatever they'd been smoking." Using a phrase like that, no matter how jokingly/ironically, implies a possibility of those people smoking something that would alter their minds. I'm not saying there were no drugs in the Soviet Union, but they weren't a thing that popped to mind, outside of specific communities, and mostly at a later time than the book is set in. "Whatever they'd been drinking" or even "how hard they'd been drinking" would have conveyed the same effect without clashing with the realities. Also, there's that detail about Shenkov pronouncing Valery's name without the final sound (й), and honestly... how? Why? With some accents, the й would be a bit shorter, less prominent, but it would still be distinctly there! You don't just drop the final sound like that, it doesn't even sound natural, nobody would do it. Maybe if Shenkov started addressing/referring to Valery as Valera or something without being invited to, that would have conveyed a similar effect without breaking my brain. :D

Also, I'm not sure the characters would have been quite so shocked by the misogyny they saw in the West. Women in the USSR faced their own challenges, which is something Valery does acknowledge at multiple points to be fair. While they were expected to work and had better chances at building careers, especially if they came from sufficiently privileged backgrounds and/or especially after WW2 when the male population suffered a huge blow for understandable reasons, that arrangement Shenkov had with Natasha? Where he was the one to take care of the kids while she delved into science? That was extremely rare. Women were expected to work *and* be the housekeepers for their family. My Grandma was in charge of one of the biggest libraries in her city, a card-carrying member of the Communist Party, she had a great career, and then she came home in the evenings and cooked supper for the entire family before she could sit down. My Grandpa was kind enough to do the dishes afterward and to take out the trash, and on weekends he helped with some of the cleaning. But mostly, keeping house was still firmly a woman's work, and men helped if they were willing to. Admittedly, it was such a natural thing for many that perhaps it was the characters' male gaze that prevented them from seeing that clearly.

I could probably go on, but instead I'll just once again say that yeah, I liked the book as a story. I would have probably liked it even more if I didn't grow up in the realities the author's trying to portray and didn't know how off the portrayal was.

In many ways, this was the perfect college freshman romcom with plenty of moments that made me smile and truly wonderful characters. I really felt for both leads: Alex who wore her "air-headed flirt" mask like armor, and Molly on her journey to get out of her shell and get her social anxiety under control. I loved the slow, gradual development of their relationship, how they went from mostly reluctant allies to frenemies to best friends, and that period when they were totally oblivious about falling for each other. I really loved how, while they faced such different struggles and came from such different backgrounds, they were able to see and empathize with each other's dark moments.

At the same time, I felt kind of bad for Cora, Molly's initial "dream girl," because let's face it, Alex and Molly basically manipulated her into believing Molly was a rather different person from who she really was, and then Molly had her moment of revelation just as Cora was catching feelings for a pretty fantasy. Yes, there's a nice irony here—Cora was Molly's pretty fantasy for a long while, but it's not like Cora made an actual choice to present herself as somebody she wasn't, unlike Molly. And hey, it's logical and realistic! Figuring yourself out as a teenager is a rocky road. You're bound to make mistakes and hurt others along the way. But this storyline is one of the reasons I really wish there was one more chapter or an epilogue showing the aftermath and the delayed resolution. (The other reason is that I would love a few pages of seeing Molly and Alex as an established couple.) As it was, the book ended kind of... almost abruptly.

When it comes to the two main plot strands, I feel like Molly's storyline was a little more balanced. All the parts of it—her mooning over Cora, her struggles to fit in in college, her relationships with her family and the way her Mom's internalized racism impacted her, her slowly developing feelings for Alex, her journey to becoming more assertive—painted a coherent picture. Alex's storyline seemed a little weaker in terms of structure. I really liked the parts about her mother's alcoholism, her family life, and the relationship she's built with her boss Jim. But the plotline about her now ex-girlfriend Natalie could have been handled better in terms of laying out the events. I feel like there should have been more clues that Alex wasn't the only problem in that relationship; for a while I thought Natalie was just taking their falling out really, really hard, not just... being herself. Then again, maybe that's on me and my attention span!

This is absolutely everything I could have wanted from the sequel to His Quiet Agent, truly. I went in worrying about a potential disappointment, because the first book was just *so good* and I wanted the second one to be even better, but how would I do if it never lived up to my expectations? Well, we'll never know the answer, because Agents of Winter is, in fact, even better! And even though it's hardly longer than the first novella, this time, somehow I didn't come out of it wishing it was longer, because these ~150 pages contained so, so much. 

I remember when I finished His Quiet Agent, I had this frustrating feeling that despite already being in love with the two leads, I didn't know enough about them. The second book allowed me to get to know them really, really well. I loved seeing them apart and together and that there was no extra drama in the development of their relationship. When I say they were apart for some of the book, I mean, like, physically. I never felt any doubt that Martin and Arthur were in it for a good haul, and guess what, it took nothing away from the story. Gradual development of trust, getting to know each other better, and reaffirming the intention to stick together is apparently all I need from a romance novel. It's like their HEA has already happened, and the second book was a wonderful look into what happens after.

I loved that the book is set around New Year, because this holiday is a perfect symbolic backdrop to where Arthur and Martin are at: letting go of the past, looking into the future. I also really liked that this was a dual POV, and that so many parts of Martin's backstory were revealed so gradually: letting the reader come to a conclusion first, confirming and expanding on it later. It's interesting that while a lot of the things about Martin's history and personality weren't 100% what I expected, as a person he was kind of... exactly how I saw him through Arthur's eyes in book 1, I just got to see more? I think it's a testament both to Ada Maria Soto's writing ability (it can be hard to make sure a character comes across as *exactly* the same person, whether you're in their head or looking at them through a different narrator's lens, especially when said character is so closed-off and secretive) and to the relationship between these two (Arthur's seen Martin all along, even when he wasn't sure of that himself, excuse me while I go have way too many feelings over this).

Also! Not only is this an asexual romance, it's also an ace romance where there's so, so little physical contact. A lot of the time it's just holding hands and breathing together. And at no point does this low level of physicality take away from the super strong bond the characters share, their importance to each other, their mutual understanding, their feelings, their happy future with multiple winters in New York. This feels so, so important with me, and it's the kind of romance that makes me feel extremely seen. I'm so grateful it exists.

Such a wonderful, heartwarming story! I actually liked it more than Legends & Lattes, which the author cites as a direct inspiration for Can't Spell Treason without Tea. I absolutely adored Reyna and Kianthe and their entire relationship. I also loved that the relationship started before the story itself, so instead of all the first dates and growing attraction we got to delve straight into what I believe to be the most interest part of any relationship, fictional or real: the one where they actually build a life together, learn to co-exist, open up to each other about their insecurities and pain spots, overcome difficulties, help each other grow as people, make something wonderful and theirs. Like, you know, a tea shop/book store in a cold, dragon-plagued town full of nice, kind people.

Tawney is now firmly among my favorite settings, to be sure. There was something so vivid about every description that I now feel like I've truly visited it. I also found myself quite captivated by the broader setting it exists in, with the different cultures, the dragons, the entire Arcandor concept and all. The setting is built out of familiar fantasy tropes, but the way they're used and fitted together makes for something really interesting. Oh, and speaking of different cultures! That entire secondary storyline about Lord Wylan and Diarn Feo, vying for rulership and constantly bickering and looking all the time like they're one step away from a glorious queer enemies-to-lovers romance? Give me that romance. I need it. 

I guess the one reason I'm not giving this a full 5-star mark is this weird ethical struggle I had around the entire concept of the book. :D Don't get me wrong, I absolutely appreciate the concept! In most typical fantasy stories, you would expect the most powerful mage in the world and the tyrannical queen's rogue bodyguard to, you know, topple the evil queen and bring kindness and justice to the world or something. In this book, the characters instead choose to escape the queen and build a quiet, kind life for themselves in this adorable town in the middle of nowhere. That's what makes the story so unique and so beautifully character-driven, and I totally get the reasons behind Reyna's and Kyanthe's choices. I loved their journey, as I've already said. But time and time again, I caught myself thinking that it was maybe... selfish? Imagine having the power and the insidious knowledge to try and make real change plenty of people could benefit from, and not using it. I'm one of those people who can't. For a long time now, I've been wishing so hard I could be someone with at least a 50% chance to, you know, topple certain world leaders. Hell, even a 10% chance, a 5% chance, anything. I am just a normal person, and I feel like a failure for it, that I live in this world where so many things are so wrong, and I can't do anything. From that point of view, putting yourself first when you really can make a difference against a sociopathic tyrant feels downright villainous.

I'll once again say: I did love the story very very much, especially when I could shove aside that ethical conundrum. But I suppose I would have preferred it if there was no tyrannical queen. Perhaps just a not-very-good-but-passable queen with a parliament to stop her from going overboard, and with Reyna being somehow bound to her service still, to keep the story mostly the same, but, you know, not in a way that makes her complicit in tyrannical crimes. Or if Kianthe was simply a mage, not the super powerful mage with a special connection to the Stone. I guess I overall prefer heartwarming slice-of-life stories when they either happen in overall optimistic settings, like Becky Chambers's Monk & Robot novellas, or when they have this hopepunk vibe of good people in bad worlds doing the very best they can, at least for themselves and their loved ones, even if that's never going to be enough to change the entire world. Reading a "doing the best we can for ourselves and each other at the expanse of NOT doing the best we could have done for everyone" story was perhaps a first for me, and this aspect doesn't sit 100% well with me. I'm weird like that.

The last time I read a book (well, a series) by Alexis Hall, I concluded that I would have liked it a lot better if it wasn't written as a romance novel. There was a great story there that just wasn't suited for the traditional romance beats. I'm recalling that now because, well, this is another book by Alexis Hall that I actually really liked and didn't mind a bit that it wasn't written as a romance novel. It was only marketed as a romcom, and I'd dearly love to know why, because I think this is just... a contemporary? Chick lit? Something? It's a very well-written, very thoughtful, very touching and relatable story about a bisexual single mom coming into her own, letting go of expectations, putting a line between what she wants and what her parents taught her she's supposed to want, and generally taking control of her life. It's wonderful. The characters are, for the most part, awesome people, except for the ones who aren't supposed to be. There's definitely some romance here, and there are plenty of moments that are laugh-out-loud funny! This is just. Not a romcom. Or a comedy. Or a romance. And I admit I was a tiny bit disappointed when I realized that, in that way I once was disappointed when I was faced with one of those cakes that looked like an incredibly realistic giant hamburger. It really made me crave grilled meat, ketchup, and pickles. What I got was a caramel-flavored bisquit with fruity mousse, chocolate something, and fruity something. It was absolutely delicious and I was glad we met, but it was still weird for those first few moments to poke at it and think of hamburgers.

Anyway, book-sponsored baking metaphors aside, I did enjoy the story very much. Rosaline is an extremely relatable character, and her whole arc with her parents hit me uncomfortably close to home. Her friendship with her ex, Loraine, was super touching and—again—very much relatable for me. As for the romance, Harry is one of the best characters I've ever met with his all-absorbing kindness, his quiet confidence that, when it comes to certain things, even an anxiety disorder can't erase, his willingness to learn and adjust his behavior for other people's sake, and his devotion to upholding personal borders, both for himself and other people. I loved that he and Rosaline became friends first and how genuine and important that friendship clearly was for both of them. I didn't quite love that the more front-and-center romance-related plot was the trainwreck of Rosaline trying to make it work with Alaine, but I appreciate how necessary it was for the story and I enjoyed how the author handled that plot, slipping in those small hints at who Alaine actually is from the start, having them go somewhat over Rosaline's head in an entirely plausible way, and keeping a reader one step ahead but doubting.

I also liked how Rosaline's kid, Amelie, was such a big part of the plot, although I'm not sure she always felt like an eight-year-old she's supposed to be? I admit I don't spend all that much time around children, though I've Aunt Loraine'd for my share of friends' kids. I know all kids are different. But Amelie, to me, felt more like a very bright pre-schooler than an eight-year-old. Though maybe that was because we kept seeing her among adults only, and kids do tend to adopt slightly different patterns of behavior among adults than they do around other kids their age, to the point that you think they act younger, understand less/grasp less nuance, treat their own interests differently, etc, etc, than is actually true. (Seriously though, where are all Amelie's friends? We get a super passing mention of a best friend once, in a scene she isn't even present in, and that's it. If she doesn't have many friends, or if she's having trouble making some, where are the mentions of that, and how it affects her? This part seemed underdeveloped, I guess that's what I'm saying).

I wonder if the next installment of the series is going to be more of the same in terms of genre, or if it will actually be a romcom. I guess I'll find out when I read it!

I really love the way K.J. Charles writes novellas. Yes, I always end up kind of wanting more, because what do you mean the story is over, I want to keep hanging out with these characters! But I never feel like anything is missing because the story is short. The plot always hits all the right beats at all the right times, the character arcs are fully realized, the relationship unfolds logically, and the endings never feel rushed. All of this is definitely true for this Audible Original. I loved the story of these two lost, lonely men who were supposed to be just moments in each other's life getting brought together by chance and becoming closer during a treasure hunt in a derelict hoarder house.

I also very much enjoyed the narration, especially for Toby's chapters. And the characters themselves! They really made me feel for them. Though now that I think of it, I'm not sure how Toby survived for seven years until meeting Miles. I mean, yeah, he's inventive, has great people skills, and isn't the worst thief ever, but underneath it all (and like, not far underneath it all? skin-deep?) he's such an open, loving person, so willing to empathize with others and to put himself aside for the sake of someone he cares about. I have no idea how he retained all those qualities living on the edge of the gutter for years and never gotten taken advantage of, but I love him for it.

The one small thing that didn't leave me fully satisfied is probably on me: I find it more difficult to process audiobooks than regular books, and I was also listening to this one right before sleep while feeling unwell. So it's possible I missed something! But I'm not sure what made those high-stakes parts of the plot in the later chapters necessary? I mean, I see how they were necessary from the character development point of view, allowing both Toby and Miles (especially Miles) to kind of reinforce the changes they've gone through. But from the plot point of view, I'm not sure it felt very natural. Or maybe it's just that I really liked all the parts about treasure hunting in the derelict house and wished for more of that!

Rating anthologies is always really hard for me, because practically in each, there are stories I absolutely love, stories that are good but not great, and stories I could do without. This one is no exception. What I absolutely loved about the entirety of it, though, is the concept: the fact that all the stories are loosely interlinked and take place in the same restaurant-packed quarter. This felt a bit like playing an exploration-based videogame where you roam across a vast location, enter places, and learn the stories of their occupants. There is even a map included, with all the numerous restaurants from the book marked on it!

It was also great to be exposed to so many different cultures and culture-specific foods. I swear this book did wonders for my appetite. :D There is so much cooking here, all of it done with love and purpose and a dash of magic that I believe is always present in the kitchen. I loved seeing all the mouth-watering culinary variety and learning some new stuff about the various cultures, not even always linked directly to food.

What was the anthology's strength for me (the fact that all the stories are interlinked) has also proved to be a bit of a weakness, though, because there are a number of genres presented here. Some of the stories are these quiet introspective pieces, contemporary with just a bit of magical realism. Others are much more high-stakes, with conflicts based around rather dangerous ghosts or even mafia wars. The way the stories are arranged in the book makes for some really dramatic mood shifts, which made it sometimes difficult to read a few stories in a row.

All in all, though, I think this is a solid four stars. If I had to pick my favorite story, I think I'd go with Moments to Return by Adi Alsaid: a beautiful piece focused on overcoming the ever-present fear of death, or rather, learning to live with it and despite it. 

The thing I loved the most about this novel is the setting. The author pulls a lot from actual witchcraft traditions while adding plenty of inventive fantastical elements of his own making to weave a truly exciting world. I loved the entire spirit realm, the Reapers, the magical races, the way Tarot cards were baked into it, all the beauties and the dangers. Even if I didn't like any of the other things about the story, I would probably want to keep reading the series just to hang around this world some more.

Fortunately, I did like a lot of the other things, so continuing the series will be even more fun. :) Adam was a great character to follow: flawed but with an unshakable core of goodness, relatable, and generally interesting to be around. Pretty much everybody else in the main cast was great to spend time with, as well. I liked what a big role family played in the story, and how we got to see so many different family dynamics: Adam's family, Vic's family, the sibling relationship between the two elves, Argent and Silver, and their complicated bond with their father. It was also great to see how all these different characters interacted with each other and how their relationships evolved throughout the book. Also, I really liked Bobby's chapters—I feel like they added a lot to the flow of the narrative.

In terms of the plot, for the most part it was exciting and tense and I appreciated how the theme of humans being pawns in the immortals' grand long game was handled. I do feel, however, that the way the main puppeteer was revealed was... not ideal. That twist just came very much out of the left field; we haven't had a lot of time with that character, they weren't involved in the plot short of one vague scene far in the beginning, I don't know, it just didn't feel natural. Once the character's agenda was unveiled and their involvement in other parts of the Binders' family story became clearer, yes, I felt I could buy it. But I think there needed to be more lead-up to the initial twist.

One thing I wasn't a fan of was the love triangle, or rather, the storyline that kept trying to be a love triangle even though ti would have worked better if it was more, "here's my ex I'm letting go of while needing to work together for a common cause, and here's the new person I'm getting fond of." I can appreciate love triangles when they represent a broader choice the character has to make between two philosophies, two approaches to life, etc. This triangle kind of hints at being like that, but it doesn't work. If it was supposed to be a choice between the supernatural and the human, certain plot developments erased that possibility rather fast. If it was supposed to be a choice between doing one's duty and doing what's actually right, one look at Adam tells you it's never been a choice at all. So it felt kind of almost useless, just a way to add tension in the one part of the plot that mostly lacked it, because Vic is just... so good and clearly so good for Adam? Honestly, I really love how he just accepted Adam and his feelings for Adam with no drama, even in the middle of all the life-changing weirdness. But I've got to say that I love Silver, too, and I think I'll enjoy following his arc in the subsequent installments. I just like him for who he is, not as a part of any romantic entanglement.

First, a note: I got this book by winning a giveaway right here on the site. Otherwise, I likely wouldn't have discovered it, so huge thanks to the author and Storygraph for giving me the opportunity to read it!

This is exactly the sort of kindness-focused story that I love. It starts with a young witch trying to summon a succubus "just to see what it's like" and ending up with a somewhat confused, mostly helpless shadow creature she can't figure out a way to get rid of. Initially, based on everything she's been taught, she assumes the creature must be evil and dangerous. But the more time they spend together, working on trying to figure out a way to send Worm back to where they've come from, the more Malee's perception changes. There's a lot of Malee learning about what Worm is, and Worm learning about humans, and plenty of nice cozy domestic scenes.

I found the writing really charming and engaging, and I absolutely loved every small bit of worldbuilding the novella offers. I'd love to spend a lot more time in this world, learning more about its witchcraft, getting to explore the apothecary Malee works at and to witness more of her lessons with Victoria, seeing if/how Victoria and her son come around to Worm's existence. Sequel, please? Or a full-length novel? :)

The one thing that caught me by surprise was the late-chapters relationship development between Malee and Worm. I'm okay with it, I guess, and looking back I can see how things developed to that point, but I didn't really catch any big chemistry vibes between them? It's one of those rare instances when I fell I would have preferred them as friends. Or maybe I just would have liked a more lengthy development the novella format doesn't allow for.

I remember the first book of this trilogy made me kind of angry when I read it, because the concept of it was right up my alley, but the execution of the concept was just... asdfghjkl, how was I supposed to be on those characters' side at all? And how was I supposed to view their romantic relationship, built entirely out of my most favorite tropes in the world, as something remotely shippable? It was so weird, like a meal made of all my favorite ingredients cooked in an entirely unpalatable manner.

This book is both better and worse and ultimately more of the same. We're now in Gal's POV, and hey, he's exactly as bad and manipulative as I saw him in the first book, except now at least the narrative doesn't seem to make excuses for him and instead highlights his mistakes and flaws. That's good. That's something I'm down for. Give me all the flawed, wrong, villainous protagonists that are explicitly framed as such, show me a clear reason they're like that, throw in a couple of sympathetic traits, and I'm along for the ride!

Unfortunately, with Gal, I didn't get that clear reason. It's like he's like that because his genocidal mom told him that's the way to be, and he hardly learns at all from the experiences he's facing. Every time he watches the Archons do their thing / listens to them speak about their more people-centric approach to governing where the ruler is the servant of their people and not the centerpiece the entire machine of the empire revolves around, he's like, "THAT’S NOT HOW GALACTIC EMPIRES WORK!" (This is a direct quote from his thoughts, by the way. Yes, in all caps. That's how it is in the book). He completely refuses to reflect on the crimes his mother and his empire have committed. He justifies genocide. He literally blames Ettian for letting him think he could be a more peaceful ruler than his mother, because "when I was planning my peaceful reign, I hadn't seen actual war, and Ettian had, so he should have known I would also have to be a tyrant" or some shit like that. He shows so little growth or even just reflection throughout the book, and when he does start swaying the Archons' way, it's because of emotional attachments alone.

What's more, I feel like the author chose a really bad approach to writing a manipulative character. It would have been so much better with an unreliable narrator angle, having Gal keep some cards up his sleeve and only vaguely alluding to his actual goals, making the reader doubt if he's playing Wen/Ettian/someone else or being genuine. Instead, he keeps spelling out his intentions and his methods in his head. "This is what I want to achieve, this is what I'm working with, this is what I'm doing." What's the fun of a manipulative protagonist if never manipulates the reader? :D

To top it all, I just felt like for this part of the overarching story's plot, Gal was the worst possible narrator simply because he's a political prisoner who directly interacts with only a few important players. Yes, he was eventually given reason to walk around more freely and observe stuff he really shouldn't be observing, and it required a few supposedly smart, experienced, battle-hardened characters to make some super dumb choices. But even with the author stocking the cards in his favor like that, he's still not really involved with some of the potentially more interesting parts of the story.

Meanwhile, it seems like from what can be seen of Ettian in this book, he might have actually gone through some of that growth I hoped to see in him in book 1. I wish I could have witnessed it. Also, Wen remains my absolute favorite and will be the sole reason I'll finish the trilogy (what's with that twist at the end, I'm dying to know). I wish I could read this entire story from her POV, because she's the one having all the big, protagonist-worthy crises, dilemmas, actions, and reactions. Come to think of it, she was the most proactive and the most affected on a deeply personal level in the first book, too. Maybe she should have been the protagonist of the entire trilogy.

For some other stuff: the writing here remains solid, the space battles are extremely intense and fun to read, and the plot has some interesting bits but suffers greatly from the pacing. In the first half, very few things happen, then there are a few really rushed sections in the second part. Once again, I attribute the structural problems to having Gal as the sole narrator—perhaps a dual or triple POV would have helped mitigate them.