Author:
Crystal King
ISBN: 9780778310570
Publication
Date: September 24, 2024
Publisher:
MIRA Books
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Author
Bio:
Crystal King is the author of In The
Garden of Monsters, The Chef’s Secret and Feast of
Sorrow, which was long-listed for the Center for Fiction’s First Novel
Prize and was a Must Read for the MassBook Awards. She is an author, culinary
enthusiast, and marketing expert, and has taught at multiple universities including
Harvard Extension and Boston University. She resides in Boston. You can find
her at crystalking.com.
Book
Summary:
A Goodreads Most Anticipated Historical
Fiction Book of Fall 2024
“A sinister romance and hypnotic Gothic fairytale—surreal and luscious with
a fascinating twist on the story of Hades and Persephone.” —Jennifer Saint,
bestselling author of Ariadne
A woman with no past. A man who seems to know her. And a monstrous garden
that could be the border between their worlds…
Italy, 1948
Julia Lombardi is a mystery even to herself. The beautiful model can’t remember
where she’s from, where she’s been or how she came to live in Rome. When she
receives an offer to accompany celebrated eccentric artist Salvador Dalí to the
Sacro Bosco—Italy’s Garden of Monsters—as his muse, she’s strangely compelled
to accept. It could be a chance to unlock the truth about her past…
Shrouded in shadow, the garden full of giant statues that sometimes seem alive
is far from welcoming. Still, from the moment of their arrival at the palazzo,
Julia is inexplicably drawn to their darkly enigmatic host, Ignazio. He’s
alluring yet terrifying—and he seems to know her.
Posing for Dalí as the goddess Persephone, Julia finds the work to be
perplexing, particularly as Dalí descends deeper into his fanaticism. To him,
she is Persephone, and he insists she must eat pomegranate
seeds to rejoin her king.
Between Dalí’s fevered persistence, Ignazio’s uncanny familiarity and the
agonizing whispered warnings that echo through the garden, Julia is soon on the
verge of unraveling. And she begins to wonder if she’s truly the mythical queen
of the Underworld…
Excerpt:
Prologue
Bomarzo, Italy, 1547–1560
It took me years to find Giulia Farnese,
but no time at all to win her confidence. I did so with an unassuming cherry
rose tart. It had been nearly a hundred years since I last looked upon her
face, but from the moment she pulled the golden tines of her fork away from her
lips and she looked to me, not her husband, I knew my influence had taken hold.
“You truly are a maestro, Aidoneus,” she
said, closing her eyes to savor the sweet, floral flavors. “And a welcome
addition to our kitchen.”
“Madonna Farnese, you flatter me.” I gave
the couple a polite bow, my gesture more fluid than human custom, and turned
back to my earthly duties.
“It seems you will eat well when I am
gone,” Vicino joked behind my back. “But don’t eat too well, my beauty, or you
won’t fit into those lovely dresses.”
Giulia laughed, and my heart warmed. Oh,
she would eat well, I vowed. Very well.
* * *
The next day, as Vicino Orsini gave his
wife a peck on the cheek and vaulted onto his horse, I watched from the rooftop
terrace, my gaze lingering on the horizon where earth met sky—a threshold I
knew all too well. Then, with a flick of the reins, he led his men down the
road into the valley. They were headed to Venezia to escort the Holy Roman Cardinal,
Pietro Bembo, to Rome. Afterward, Vicino would depart for Napoli and Sicilia on
business for Papa Pio IV.
Jupiter had blessed the region of Lazio
with a warm spring, and a week after Vicino left, Giulia asked me if I wanted
to take a walk. I suggested we explore the wood in the valley below the
palazzo. She readily agreed, which did not surprise me. It was impossible for
her to ignore the aphrodisiac qualities of my food, let alone the timbre of my
voice, and the brush of my hand against hers. The first time she startled at my
warmth— no human runs as hot as I—but she did not ask me to explain. In all the
centuries past, she never has. This alone stoked the fire of hope within me.
She led me on a thin path through the
verdant tapestry of the forest, where sunlight, diffusing through the emerald
canopy, dappled the woodland floor with patches of gold. Beneath our feet, a
carpet of fallen leaves, still rich with the scent of earth, crunched softly.
We moved through clusters of ancient evergreen oaks, their gnarled limbs
reaching out like weathered hands, and past groves of squat pomegranate trees
with their ruby-hued fruits catching the sunlight and casting a warm, inviting
glow.
Upon reaching a clearing surrounded by
several large tufa stones jutting up through the grass and weeds, I was
immediately drawn to one of the stones embedded in the hillside. The exposed
side was round and flat, and it hummed, a song of the earth, a low vibration
that warmed the deepest depths of me.
Giulia could not hear the humming, but she
was surely aware of it in some hidden part of her, for she turned to me then.
“I love this wood,” she said, her arms
outstretched toward the
stone. The early morning light brightened
her features, making
her blue eyes shine.
“I can see why.”
She twined her hand in mine. “I come here
often to bask in the feeling. The moment I arrived in Bomarzo, I felt like I
had been called home, to my true home. And this wood, this is why. It re-minds
me of a fairy tale, or a place from the ancient, heroic myths.” It was then
that I had the idea. The stone—it hummed be-cause the veil to the Underworld
was thin there. Perhaps…yes… if the wood was enhanced, and energy from the
darkness was better able to pierce the surface into this realm I would no longer
have to spend years attuning to Giulia when she reappeared in the world.
Instead, she would be drawn closer, and I would
find her faster. It would work. I was sure
of it.
“Vicino doesn’t like me walking here alone.
Too many wolves and bears, he says.”
I could sense a wild boar in the far
distance, but no wolves or bears. “I think we’re safe here.” I gestured toward
one of the big misshapen rocks. “Sometimes I like to imagine rocks as mythical
creatures. Like that one. It could be a dragon poised to fight off danger.”
“Ooo, I can see it. The big open mouth,
ready to take on any wolf, or even a lion.” Her enthusiasm was exactly what I
had hoped for.
I waved my arm toward the large, round,
smooth rock be-hind it. “And that should be a great big orco, with a mouth wide
open. And it eats up and spits out secrets.”
“An ogre that spits out secrets?” Giulia
laughed.
“Oh yes. This orco would tell all. Ogni
pensiero volo.” I made my hands look like a fluttering bird.
She wore a wide grin. “All thoughts fly!
How perfect. But if he eats up secrets, there should be a table inside this
orco. It could be his tongue.”
As we wandered through the wood, dreaming
up new lives for the monstrous rocks left eons ago by a force of nature, I was
delighted to see how invested she was in the game.
“There are so many stones,” she said,
clapping her hands together. “We could make a whole park of statues. I will
write Vicino tonight.”
I did not expect it would be quite so easy.
Usually it took a long while to convince Giulia of the merit of my ideas. But
the pull of the Underworld was strong here and my influence was far greater
than it would have been in Paris, or some backwater hill town in the wilds of
Bavaria or Transylvania.
On the walk back, she paused by another enormous
stone that jutted out of the ground, the size of a giant. She leaned against
it. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked coyly.
“Of course.”
“This secret is only for you.” She leaned
forward and grasped the edge of my cloak, pulling me toward her. Our lips met
and she melted into me.
In the years following, as Vicino began
work on the garden, a change was palpable in the air. Each evening, as the
twilight deepened, a subtle energy began to emanate from the heart of the
valley. I found contentment not just in the evolving grove, but also in my
closeness to Giulia. Our time together, so abundant and intimate, felt
different. I had never waited so long to make my attempt, but I nurtured this
earthly bond, knowing it was essential for the garden’s growth.
The day finally arrived when Vicino ushered
Giulia into the heart of the Sacro Bosco—the Sacred Wood—the name he had fondly
bestowed upon the garden. As she crossed the threshold, I sensed it—a
strengthening of our connection, more profound than ever before. It was time.
That night, the chicken with pomegranate
sauce I prepared was met with Giulia’s usual lavish praise, although I knew she
took in the single pomegranate seed garnishing the dish as a courtesy, not a
desire for the fruit. As she savored each bite, I felt a loosening in the
ethereal shackles binding her heart. A vivid, red-hued hope blossomed within
me.
Post dinner, I retreated to the palazzo’s
highest balcony, my gaze drawn to a nascent light in the wood below. The light,
though barely perceptible, was imbued with a power that seemed to bridge the
realms of mortal and divine. A faint green luminescence that whispered of
unwanted things to come. It pulsed like a languid heartbeat, beckoning to
something—or someone.
I was immediately compelled to find Giulia.
Amidst the soft murmur of the salon where she played with her children, I
enveloped her in my senses and the flower of hope within me withered. Her
heartbeat, steady and unsuspecting, echoed the rhythm of the garden’s glow.
Excerpted from In the Garden of Monsters
by Crystal King © 2024 by Crystal King. Used with permission from
MIRA/HarperCollins.
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