Would you want to rule over a kingdom that hates you? Wyatt Croft certainly doesn’t in H. E. Edgmon’s The Witch King. This debut YA fantasy novel came out this past summer and centers on a trans witch who escapes from a fae kingdom, only to be dragged right back into its politics and prejudices—and romance! I’ve been hearing so much hype for this book this year, and I’m so glad I finally got the chance to read it.
Wyatt Croft has made a new life for himself in the human world. He lives with his best friend Briar and her family, where he finally felt safe and supported enough to come out as trans and live life on his own terms, doing his best to forget the trauma of living with the fae. But when his fairy prince fiancé suddenly shows up in the yard, wings and horns out in the open for anyone to see, Wyatt realizes forgetting will not be so easy. Prince Emyr wants Wyatt to come back as his fiancé to strengthen Emyr’s claim on the throne before his cousin Derek can scheme it out from under him. But considering the fact that most of the fae hated Wyatt for being a witch even before he nearly burned down the kingdom of Asalin, Wyatt’s not sure how his presence will help. He’s not even sure he wants to help. Angry at being dragged back into the fae kingdom and his old role against his will, Wyatt strikes a deal with Derek to sabotage Emyr’s chances. But as tensions between the witches and the fae rise and violence seems imminent, Wyatt questions whether getting back to the human world is truly more important than fighting for justice among the fae. And then there’s the question of Emyr. Wyatt has no desire to play this game of thrones or join the ruling class that has oppressed him and his people. But could he really leave his soulmate behind a second time?
The portrayal of witches as an oppressed class in fae society in this novel is particularly interesting. In some ways, it parallels the plight of LGBTQ+ people: witches are born into fae families and even the most powerful and well-established of the fae might suddenly find that they have a witch in their household. For the families unwilling to let go of their prejudices, this often means that witch children are neglected or abandoned at young ages, and many of them are estranged from their fae kin. The witches who still live in Asalin create communities to support each other and build their own found families. Of course, the oppression of witches and the oppression of LGBTQ+ folks also exists as two distinct axes of marginalization that compound in this novel. Wyatt is not only a witch but also trans and gay. Though fae society seems somewhat accepting of same-sex relationships, there’s an emphasis on reproducing (and particularly among the royal family, creating heirs) that reinforces heternormative expectations. Trans individuals are somewhat less visible in Asalin than gay couples, but Wyatt is pleasantly surprised by the smoothness with which most of the fae he encounters respect his new name and pronouns—even his political enemies at least address him correctly while threatening and manipulating him. Of course, there are always a few exceptions and Wyatt does experience several instances of deadnaming, misgendering, and transphobia. And then there’s the fact that even those calling him by the right name and pronouns still expect him to marry Emyr and become the royal baby-maker. But for the most part, the marginalization that Wyatt faces in fae society is founded more on his identity as a witch than as a gay trans guy.
Another thing that stood out to me in this novel is the physical appearances of the fae and witches. Apart from subtly pointed fangs, witches look almost exactly like regular humans and can easily blend into the human world—which comes in handy for those witches who are abandoned in the human world or who flee into it to escape persecution in Asalin. The fae, on the other hand, can be identified by their wings and horns, which they must put a glamor on in order to walk unnoticed in the human world. They also have long fangs that are much more pronounced than the witches’. The appearance of their wings and horns vary widely from fae to fae and can come in any color, size, shape, or texture. H. E. Edgmon never forgets these characteristics when describing the physicality of the fae characters and how they move about in the world. But though leathery wings, spiraling horns, and sharpened fangs could easily describe any monster or demon we might expect to encounter in a fantasy novel, Edgmon’s fae aren’t seen as monstrous. In fact, Wyat finds them beautiful, and delights in the strangeness of their bodies or the unfamiliarity of a new type of wing or horn he’s never seen on someone before. The Witch King is a celebration of all types of bodies, from realistic depictions of curvy bodies and trans bodies to fantastical depictions of winged and horned bodies.
If you love YA fantasy featuring fairies and some thoughtful queer representation, don’t miss out on The Witch King! You can find it on shelves now at your favorite local retailer, or buy it online and support The Gothic Library in the process using this Bookshop.org affiliate link. If you’ve already read it, let me know what you think in the comments below!