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The Serpent and the Wings of Night – Summary and Review
Carissa Broadbent, whose pen bleeds both romance and danger, is the literary chef behind the Crowns of Nyaxia series. If you ever wondered what would occur if you put a vampire, a tournament, a goddess, and an ample amount of emotional trauma into a blender—well, Carissa’s your bartender. Her world-building is rich, her characterization is crisp, and her tendency to force readers to question their own moral compass is, in short, a public service. Broadbent’s writing has only become more seductive since her last books, and here she asks us to a masquerade of monsters and men, as well as complicated emotions.
Title: The Serpent and the Wings of Night
Pages: 502
The Serpent and the Wings of Night Genre: Romance, Fantasy, and Adult
Synopsis of the Serpent and the Wings of Night
Screenplay (or, How This Book Unfolds Like a Blood-Soaked Origami Swan):
Oraya, our heroine, is a human girl who was adopted by the Nightborn vampire king, Vincent. That’s right: she’s the sole human guest at the world’s most high-end vampire dinner party, and the appetizer is normally a person like her. Not today, though; she’s been raised with a sword in one hand and a chip on her shoulder, and she wants to show the world that she’s more than just a walking juice box to her fanged family.
Enter the Kejari—a contest sponsored by the goddess of death herself, where the reward is a wish and the price is, well, likely your spleen. Oraya has to make it through five trials, each more deadly than the previous one, against the most brutal fighters from each of the three vampire houses. She makes a grudging alliance with Raihn, an enemy whose charm matches his bite. The sparks? Let’s just say if sex tension were a blood type, the vampires would never thirst again.
But politics and rivalry are not the only things at play. The novel intersperses political intrigue, existential fear, and enough backstabbing to make Julius Caesar blanch. Oraya’s path is as much about staying alive as it is about claiming her place in a world where they want to kill her, over dinner.
The Serpent and the Wings of Night Review
Let’s put this to rest: I’m a vampire book junkie. Hand me fangs, taboo love, and a competition in which the sole reward is staying alive, and I’m more content than a vampire at a blood bank. So when I noticed The Serpent and the Wings of Night stalking every shadow of BookTok, I just had to sink my teeth into it. Was it hype-worthy, or was I in for a whiff of literary garlic breath?
The Characters: Special Snowflakes and Brooding Bats
Oraya is the universal “special snowflake”—existentialized. She’s the sole human in a vampire court, equivalent to being the sole vegan at a Texas barbecue. She’s gritty, resilient, and has more daddy trouble than a Greek tragedy. Her dynamic with Vincent, the vampire king, is the emotional spine of the novel. It’s complicated, messy, and sometimes heartwarming—like a therapy session with added bloodshed.
And then there’s Raihn, the enemy-turned-friend-turned-potential-heartbreak. He’s brooding, lethal, and, honestly, likely spends more time styling his hair than Oraya spends practicing her sword. Their repartee is snappy, their partnership tense, and their chemistry? Let’s just say you could cut it with a stake.
Side characters such as Mische bring a dash of humor and color. She’s the Alice to Oraya’s Bella, if Alice were less fashion-conscious and more concerned with not dying horribly. The cast is diverse, imperfect, and, in typical Broadbent style, no one is immune to a sudden bout of plot-induced mortality.
And then there’s Raihn, the enemy-turned-friend-turned-potential-heartbreak. He’s brooding, lethal, and, honestly, likely spends more time styling his hair than Oraya spends practicing her sword. Their repartee is snappy, their partnership tense, and their chemistry? Let’s just say you could cut it with a stake.
Side characters such as Mische bring a dash of humor and color. She’s the Alice to Oraya’s Bella, if Alice were less fashion-conscious and more concerned with not dying horribly. The cast is diverse, imperfect, and, in typical Broadbent style, no one is immune to a sudden bout of plot-induced mortality.
The Worldbuilding: Vampires, Goddesses, and the Worst Reality Show Ever
Broadbent’s universe is saturated with atmosphere (and, often, blood). The mythology is thick: goddess-made vampires, houses competing for influence, and humans confined to “safe” wards that are as safe as a shark tank of paper cuts. The Kejari tournament is the focal point—a lethal Hunger Games meets Squid Game, but with more capes and fewer regulations.
The competitions themselves are vicious, inventive, and sometimes leave you wondering whether Broadbent has some unfinished business with obstacle courses. Every task is linked to the myth of the goddess, which gives the events a religious and existentially angsty twist. The stakes (pun fully intended) are stratospheric, and the suspense never dips14.
The Romance: Enemies, Lovers, and Emotional Whiplash
Let’s discuss romance, because this novel is just as much about falling in love as it is about falling on swords. Oraya and Raihn’s romance is a slow burn—read “will they, won’t they” but with more attempted murder. Their partnership is fraught with mistrust, desire, and the kind of snark that makes you want to hurl the book at the wall and then immediately return to reading it.
Broadbent doesn’t avoid the bleaker side of intimacy. Both women are traumatised, and so their affair is as much a healing process as it is a hot one. The hot scenes have been earned, emotionally as much as sexually, and, dare I say, are sufficient to make even a vampire blush.
The competitions themselves are vicious, inventive, and sometimes leave you wondering whether Broadbent has some unfinished business with obstacle courses. Every task is linked to the myth of the goddess, which gives the events a religious and existentially angsty twist. The stakes (pun fully intended) are stratospheric, and the suspense never dips14.
The Romance: Enemies, Lovers, and Emotional Whiplash
Let’s discuss romance, because this novel is just as much about falling in love as it is about falling on swords. Oraya and Raihn’s romance is a slow burn—read “will they, won’t they” but with more attempted murder. Their partnership is fraught with mistrust, desire, and the kind of snark that makes you want to hurl the book at the wall and then immediately return to reading it.
Broadbent doesn’t avoid the bleaker side of intimacy. Both women are traumatised, and so their affair is as much a healing process as it is a hot one. The hot scenes have been earned, emotionally as much as sexually, and, dare I say, are sufficient to make even a vampire blush.
The Writing Style
Broadbent’s writing is readable without losing nuance. She has mastered keeping the pages turning—whether a suspenseful battle scene, a snarky repartee, or an intimate moment of vulnerability. The pace is frenetic; I was reading chapters like a vampire at happy hour14.
There are moments of real humor—Broadbent has a talent for lifting the mood at just the point when things have become too bleak. The dialogue shines, the action sizzles, and the emotional punches connect with the accuracy of a well-aimed dagger.
There are moments of real humor—Broadbent has a talent for lifting the mood at just the point when things have become too bleak. The dialogue shines, the action sizzles, and the emotional punches connect with the accuracy of a well-aimed dagger.
The Flaws
Is this book tropey? You bet. We have the “special human,” the “brooding enemy,” the “deadly tournament,” and enough found family angst to fill a therapy convention. Some plot twists are telegraphed from a mile away, and the romance sometimes teeters into melodrama. But seriously? I didn’t care. The execution is so fun, the world so engrossing, that I was more than happy to forgive a few clichés36.
If you’re searching for revolutionary originality, you may find yourself groaning. But if you’re in the market for a novel that celebrates its tropes with the zeal of a vampire at a blood drive, you’re in luck.
If you’re searching for revolutionary originality, you may find yourself groaning. But if you’re in the market for a novel that celebrates its tropes with the zeal of a vampire at a blood drive, you’re in luck.
The Verdict: Worth the Hype (and the Hangover)
The Serpent and the Wings of Night is a bloody, gorgeous, and sometimes insane ride. It’s tense and dark and a little bit heartbreaking—a survival story, an identity story, and one about the tangled, messy business of love. It’s flawed, but it’s flawlessly addictive. I cackled, I gasped, I might have shrieked at the book twice. If you’re a fantasy romance reader, a tournament-of-death fan, or just looking for a hit of vampire drama, this one’s for you.
Spoiler Alert
Okay, my fellow night owls—if you haven’t read the book, now’s the time to avert your eyes. Seriously, go get a copy, lock yourself in a crypt, and return when you’re finished.
Spoilers ahead!
Oraya’s journey through the Kejari is as much a journey of self-discovery as survival. The trials test her to her limits, and her bond with Raihn grows from necessity to true connection. The major twist? Oraya’s trust is broken when she learns secrets about her father, Vincent, and his involvement in the greater vampire politics. Raihn’s motivations are uncovered, and the last trial has everyone wondering where their true loyalties lie.
The Oraya-Raihn romance comes to a head in the book’s final 20%—yes, there’s heat, and yes, it’s worth the wait. The conclusion tees up the sequel with a jaw-dropping twist, leaving readers aching for more information (and more brooding vampires).
The Serpent and the Wings of Night is a treat for dark fantasy, romance, and tournament enthusiasts where the only rule is “don’t die.” Don’t become too attached to anyone, however—Broadbent’s world is as ruthless as it is unforgettable.
Spoilers ahead!
Oraya’s journey through the Kejari is as much a journey of self-discovery as survival. The trials test her to her limits, and her bond with Raihn grows from necessity to true connection. The major twist? Oraya’s trust is broken when she learns secrets about her father, Vincent, and his involvement in the greater vampire politics. Raihn’s motivations are uncovered, and the last trial has everyone wondering where their true loyalties lie.
The Oraya-Raihn romance comes to a head in the book’s final 20%—yes, there’s heat, and yes, it’s worth the wait. The conclusion tees up the sequel with a jaw-dropping twist, leaving readers aching for more information (and more brooding vampires).
The Serpent and the Wings of Night is a treat for dark fantasy, romance, and tournament enthusiasts where the only rule is “don’t die.” Don’t become too attached to anyone, however—Broadbent’s world is as ruthless as it is unforgettable.
Now, if you’ll pardon me, I have to go sharpen my stakes and pre-order the sequel. This book has sunk its fangs into me, and I don’t know that I want to be saved.
