Exclusive

‘Kissed by the Gods’ Excerpt: Dive Into Caty Rogan’s Highly Anticipated Romantasy

Romantasy lovers, your new obsession is here!

Swooon is thrilled to share an exclusive excerpt of Kissed by the Gods, Caty Rogan’s upcoming debut novel, the first of the romatasy duology The Eternal Wars. A cross between Victoria Aveyard‘s Red Queen and Rebecca Yarros‘ Fourth Wing, readers have already praised the debut as “so captivating it makes you forget that it’s 2 a.m. and you have an alarm set for 7:30.” Now that’s our kind of love story!

Rogan’s publisher, Requited, shares: “Leina has spent a lifetime submitting, starving amid wheat fields reserved for the king, standing by while his men crush her loved ones. When soldiers come for her brother, her divine fury erupts in a bloody massacre. She expects to be executed for her crimes—her people have met bloody ends for far, far less. Instead, Ryot, a gods-blessed warrior born to privilege, delivers her to a military fortress renowned for its brutality. There, a gift from a goddess drags Leina into a realm of war, where her survival depends on her ability to ride a winged horse.”

The synopsis continues, “As Ryot pushes her to master the power she never asked for, a battle rages within her heart. Each lesson, every touch, binds them tighter—but love is a dangerous weakness in a world designed for war. Soon, Leina must decide how much she’s willing to sacrifice to protect the family she has found … and the one she left behind. Because while her divine gift could save the kingdom, it could also shatter its very foundation.”

With the publication date right around the corner on June 2, you’re going to want to add this one to the top of your TBR right away! In the meantime, check out a sneak peek at Kissed by the Gods below!

Kissed by the Gods Exclusive Excerpt

Ryot sets a brutal pace, and I struggle to keep up now that the adrenaline has abated. I flutter my eyes rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness now that the sun has finally set, though Ryot doesn’t seem to have an issue seeing where he’s going.

We turn a corner, and a branch slaps me in the face.

“Ouch! Slow down!”

“Bossy little thing,” he mutters under his breath, but he stops and glances back at me.

“Could you at least set my shoulder? I’d probably move faster.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Are you going to attack me if I do?”

Maybe. “Of course not.”

He kind of chortles, then turns around to keep walking through the forest. “You really do need training. Here’s a lesson: Stop exuding your emotions.”

I narrow my eyebrows in confusion, thinking about the way I can taste others’ feelings. “That’s an ability Altor have? Sensing emotions?”

He grunts, which I interpret as an affirmation.

“What is it used for?”

He casts a sideways glance at me, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to decide if telling me would compromise some important secret.

“It’s how we communicate with our beasts,” he answers finally. “At first, we don’t have conversations like you and I do. It’s more of a . . .” He waves his hand around in front of him like he can pull the word he’s looking for out of the air. “It’s more subtle than a conversation. Man and beast can sense each other’s emotions, sometimes even intentions, though that is much more difficult and takes many years.”

“Beasts?” I question.

“Mmm. Every Altor has a beast— their faravar.”

Oh. The winged horses.

My eyes widen, and I cast my gaze around as if there could be a winged horse lurking behind a tree. “Where is your faravar?”

No answer. Alright.

“Why can’t I tell what you’re feeling?” I ask him.

“I’m blocking.”

“Blocking?”

“I create a shield around my mind. It keeps everyone but my beast out of my head.” He shoots me another sideways glance. “It is one of the many things you need to learn how to do.”

“What else do I need to learn?” The last six years have been a terror of unknowns. To have answers is almost worth being captured. Almost.

But he ignores me. Asshole.

“So we’re going to walk all the way into Faraengard?” I say it with a forced bite, to try to cover how much I really am dragging. My head throbs where I slammed into the tree; my stomach aches from hunger. Each step sends a wave of jarring pain down my arm. The idea of walking from here to Faraengard is unfathomable. “Don’t you at least have a horse?” I try again. But he seems disinclined to answer me, his pace less brutal but still a struggle for me to maintain. I hate him. He grunts in answer, like he heard me. I guess, in a way, he did.

We walk so long that my brain fogs over, and my senses dull. My legs are spent, and I begin stumbling over each little stone and stick in my path. Ryot’s hand on my arm is the only thing keeping me upright. The heightened awareness of all that’s around me fades, until I’m left with nothing but a vague imperative to continue putting one foot in front of the other.

After what could honestly be minutes or hours, we come to a sudden stop. I raise my gaze from where it was locked on my feet and realize we’ve left the forest behind. We’re standing in a small clearing. Ryot releases his grip from my arm and continues forward. As much as I resented his hold on me just a few seconds ago, apparently it was all that was keeping me upright. I immediately crash to my knees before falling over with my cheek pressed into the downed leaves.

Finally. I’m closing my eyes, eager for the relief of complete darkness, when he comes back.

“Uh‑uh, rebel girl,” he admonishes me. He cups my neck in one hand and holds a flask to my mouth. “If you pass out before you’ve had nourishment, you’ll be out for days.”

I press my lips closed so not even a drop can get through.

His jaw ticks in annoyance. “If I wanted you dead, it would be far more efficient to snap your neck. I have no need for poison.”

There is that. I sniff at the flask, drawing a deep breath. It’s not alcoholic, but the fruity smell is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced—not water, not wine, not even coffee. It’s sweet and tart.

“What is it?” I mutter through mostly closed lips.

His sigh is deep and long-suffering. “Laomai,” he says simply. “It will restore your energy and help you heal.”

I’ve never heard of it, but then again, he’s both the first Faraengardian I’ve met who’s not a soldier and the first Altor I’ve ever interacted with, so that’s probably not a surprise. I open my mouth and take a deep drink.

Flavor explodes on my tongue, and I know immediately this is exactly what my body needs. I sit up and grasp the flask with both hands, chugging now. In the two minutes it takes me to drain the flask, I’m already recovering, my energy returning rapidly and the fog around my brain receding. One by one, my senses return. My eyes adjust to the dark, and now instead of a vague outline against the light of the moon and the stars, I can make out Ryot’s facial expression. On the surface, he’s clearly annoyed. But there’s something else there, too. He’s . . . speculative.

I lower the flask. A thank you is hovering right on the tip of my tongue when I realize—this spawn of Lako tracked me down, beat me up, separated me from my family, and is bringing me to what will likely be my execution or imprisonment. I shove the flask into his chest.

We glare at each other silently, and since I don’t know how to block my emotions, I focus instead on blasting him with all the rage that’s inside me. He smirks, then takes the flask, carefully screws the cap on, and returns it to his pack. Then without warning, he reaches out and snaps my shoulder back into its socket.

I hiss, reaching up to grab at the joint, but the pain is already receding.

It’s far less sharp now, more of a dull ache.

“It should heal pretty quickly. Healing is one of our strengths.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “I highly recommend not trying to escape. I can injure it again just as easily, and the other one with it, if you give me too much trouble.”

I don’t dignify him with a response. Instead, I close my eyes and start opening up my senses now that I’m more alert and not drowning in pain. Noises, smells, and sensations filter back in. The cool night air is blissful on my bruised and cracked skin. The wind whistles through the leaves, and all manner of bugs and animals skitter about. And then I notice a peculiar smell. I wrinkle my nose, trying to figure it out, when the angry snort of a horse in front of me has my eyes jerking wide open. But the beast staring back at me isn’t a horse. Or, it isn’t just a horse.

An immense, barrel-chested winged horse stands inches from my face, eyes shining with black flames. The air seems to shift with every breath it draws. The faravar would tower above even the tallest warhorse; a tall man’s head wouldn’t even reach its broad withers. But all of that seems inconsequential when it spreads its mighty wings the full length of the clearing. They blot out the night sky, each blade-like black feather as long as a man’s arm. When it lifts its wings, the forest hushes. When its wings fall, the trees move.

The only other faravar I’ve seen are depictions on shields or crests or in paintings, and those renderings, while glorious and beautiful, categorically fail at capturing the terrible energy and wild, battle- ready attitude. This isn’t an animal bred for working farms or pulling carriages. This is a beast the gods made for one thing—war.

Its size alone is enough to unsettle. But it’s the eyes that truly unnerve me, and the intelligence behind them. There’s a clever mind in that gaze.

It doesn’t blink as it stares, and I get the strange, chilling sense that it’s reading me. Not just watching—knowing. Like it sees straight through to the parts of me I don’t show. The parts I don’t even know are there.

Then it steps closer, snuffling at my hair with a huff of warm breath . . . and promptly snorts in my face, like it’s made its judgment and isn’t terribly impressed.

The blood in my veins goes cold, and gooseflesh crawls across my skin. The faravar moves with the deliberate power of something that knows it can’t be stopped. For the first time in years, I think the gods might be real.

I want to creep backward, to put even a little bit of distance between me and the animal touching me nose‑to‑nose now, but there’s no point. There’s no escape from a creature like this. Instead, I stare back and raise my chin. I may very well die on this ground, but I’ll do it with dignity.

Related

'ACOTAR’ News! TV Adaptation Gets New Update

The faravar holds my gaze, eyes searching, before it snorts once more and steps back. It shakes out its mane and rustles its wings before folding them neatly against its sides. Then, with a quiet lift of its head, it turns its attention to Ryot. Their eyes lock. There’s something in the silence between them—an exchange I can’t hear, a conversation spoken without words. The moment stretches, until Ryot finally turns to me.

“We won’t be walking all the way to Faraengard,” Ryot says. “We’re going to ride.”

I’ve never been on a horse, and he wants me to ride on that giant, flying beast of war?

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I don’t kid,” he says, as he drags me to my feet. “Don’t approach Einarr on your own. He’s a surly bastard.”

Einarr snorts, as if to say You’re one to talk.

I take one cautious step back, but bump into Ryot’s chest. Between the two of them, though, I decide the beast is scarier. Barely.

“He can have all the space he needs,” I murmur. Einarr kind of chortles and then swings his head to look at Ryot. The two stare at each other intently again for a full minute, maybe longer. Einarr nods and then whinnies, like he’s answering a question.

Ryot drops his hold on my arm.

“Introductions are over. Get your weapons together. It’s time for your first ride.”

Kissed by the Gods by Caty Rogan soars onto shelves on June 2.