Today we're excited to spotlight Aditi Khorana's novel The Library Of Fates.
Read on for more about Aditi and her book, plus an excerpt and giveaway!
Meet Aditi Khorana!
Aditi Khorana spent parts of her childhood in India, Denmark, and New England. She has a BA in international relations from Brown University and an MA in global media and communications from the Annenberg School for Communication. She has worked as a journalist at ABC News, CNN, and PBS, and most recently as a marketing executive consulting for various Hollywood studios including Fox, Paramount, and Sony. She is also the author of Mirror in the Sky. She lives in Los Angeles and spends her free time reading, hiking, and exploring LA's eclectic and wonderful architecture.
Meet The Library Of Fates!
No one is entirely certain what brings the Emperor Sikander to Shalingar. Until now, the idyllic kingdom has been immune to his many violent conquests. To keep the visit friendly, Princess Amrita has offered herself as his bride, sacrificing everything--family, her childhood love, and her freedom--to save her people. But her offer isn't enough.
The unthinkable happens, and Amrita finds herself a fugitive, utterly alone but for an oracle named Thala, who was kept by Sikander as a slave and managed to escape amid the chaos of a palace under siege. With nothing and no one else to turn to, Amrita and Thala are forced to rely on each other. But while Amrita feels responsible for her kingdom and sets out to warn her people, the newly free Thala has no such ties. She encourages Amrita to go on a quest to find the fabled Library of All Things, where it is possible for each of them to reverse their fates. To go back to before Sikander took everything from them.
Stripped of all that she loves, caught between her rosy past and an unknown future, will Amrita be able to restore what was lost, or does another life--and another love--await?
~ Excerpt ~
STOP IT, NORA. You have more self-control
My fingers twitch on the keyboard, but my eyes don’t move
from the screen. It’s not even that Nick’s Facebook profile is
that interesting. It’s just . . . he changed his profile picture. Now,
instead of the soccer team photo, he’s posted a picture of him
at a party, mid-laugh,
looking away from the camera. His hair
is wavy, almost wet-looking.
In the corner of the picture is an
arm that I know has to be Lena’s because—
Stop it. I slam my laptop shut, like I’m actually closing my
mind to all things Nick DiBasilio, and I make the responsible,
adult decision to turn my attention to something slightly
less sexy than the second alternate goalie on the boys’ varsity
soccer team: the drawing I’m working on of Harry Potter and
Draco Malfoy making out. The sneer in Draco’s upper lip isn’t
quite right. I need to make it clear from their body language
alone: This isn’t a truth-or-
dare peck between Drarry—this
kiss that’s going to turn into some full-contact
play in the Gryffindor common room later.
The gay erotic fandom community on Tumblr has turned
out to be surprisingly profitable. Last month, I made enough
money from customers—people
requesting the most specific
scenes they could think of—that
I was able to go to Six Flags
with Lena. For twenty dollars, I’ll draw a cartoon of any two
characters of your choosing. For thirty, I’ll include a more elaborate
background. And for fifty, I’ll add you into the mix.
list includes the aforementioned gay Harry
and Draco kiss (“No background, with Harry also wearing
Slytherin robes too, please?”) and one illustration of John
Watson and Sherlock Holmes sharing a bathtub.
How long am I spending on the drawing? It could be ten
minutes or ten years. My mind is so focused on perfecting that
curl in Draco’s lip, the slight . . . bulge . . . in his Hogwarts robe,
making Harry’s hair just messy enough, that by the time I finish
the sun has gone down completely behind the white roof of
outside my bedroom window.
I blow on the page, careful not to smudge any of the still-wet
black ink, and set it carefully beside the letter that I’ve kept
in the place of honor at the corner of my desk for two months.
The letter is written on gorgeous paper, cream-colored
with a dark, pressed logo at the top of the page: a minimalist
lighthouse. This is the type of letterhead Pinterest was born
for, the kind of stationery porn that could launch a thousand
And We’re Off
And then my eyes sneak down the page, and it gets even
better from there:
Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you a
spot as one of eight fellows at the Donegal Colony
for Young Artists in the summer of 2017.
I could recite the entire acceptance letter from memory,
along with the rest of the welcome packet, which is filled with
details about lodging and meals and travel tips. All of the
students featured in its glossy photographs
look like they were caught in the middle of the most
hilarious inside joke. The group of them—so
that they have to be staged—all
have their heads tossed back
in big Julia Roberts laughs. I practice opening and shutting my
jaw, but I don’t think I can even get my mouth that wide.
And then, a creak from the hallway tears me from my
multiethnic reverie. I don’t even need to look to know that
my mother is standing in the doorway. I instinctually flip the
packet shut and place it innocently atop my Drarry drawing
(the ink must be dry by now, right?) before picking up another
one of the commissioned pieces I recently finished—Hermione
Granger reading in bed as a ten-year-
staring at it like
I’m scanning for Egyptian hieroglyphs.
“You shouldn’t be keeping this stuff,” my mother says, walking
into my room without being invited (there goes my theory
that she’s actually a vampire) and pawing through the pile
of old sketchbooks and pages that have turned my desk into
something of a paper Jenga game. I keep eyeing the drawing
of Draco and Harry, worried that it might fly out from under
the welcome packet of its own volition and show my mother
exactly how intimate my knowledge of the cartoon male anatomy
has become. “I swear,” she says, “this room becomes messier
every time I pass it. Are you breeding papers?”
“No, I’m pro-shelter.”
She ignores my hilarious joke and continues surveying my
room, her fingers playing with the chunky turquoise necklace
that sits above her abomination of a coral-colored
was probably going for “Capable Mom Back in the Workforce!”
but the effect is more “Middle-Aged
Little Mermaid Cosplayer.”
Her eyes settle on the green streak in my hair, which has
been a topic in every single conversation we’ve had since I
bleached and dyed it two weeks ago.
“It’s like you’ve been using your hair as a Kleenex,” she says,
chuckling to herself with a clucking laugh like it’s the funniest
joke she ever heard.
“Do you mind?” I say. “I’m trying to work.”
With a single stride, she crosses the room and snatches the
Hermione drawing from my hand and brings it close to her
face. “These aren’t your applications,” she says. “You’re drawing
cartoons, Nora. I mean, look at this.” She lets the ripped, crumpled
drawing fall to the floor. “You promised me you’d at least
have a rough draft of your personal statement before you left.”
I slide to the carpet to rescue the drawing, but the damage
is done. Even after smoothing it out it, the wrinkles in the page
mean I won’t be able to upload the image. At least not without
And We’re Off
a spiderweb of shadow lines across it. A small tear threatens to
separate Hermione’s left leg from her torso.
“You ripped it!” I wave the ruined drawing in her face.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she says.
“I’m not being dramatic!” I slam the drawing on top of the
quivering tower of papers on my desk, and, with a sound like
a cartoon splat effect, the entire stack comes tumbling down.
Papers soar through the air and land all over my carpet.
“Ugh!” My mom jumps back from the swelling flood of
papers as if she’s trying to keep the hem of her pants dry. “Your
room is a pigsty,” she says, her gaze sweeping with disgust past
the fallen pile of papers and toward the T-shirts
that have settled into a nest on my bedroom floor. “When you
leave, this is all going in the trash.”
“This isn’t trash! These are my drawings.” I pull out a piece
of scrap paper on which I doodled a giant man-eating
with dripping fangs. “I mean, most of it isn’t trash.”
“I don’t want to have to look at this.”
“So don’t. Just close my door and don’t look. It’s fine.”
She clears her throat and repeats herself. “If I have to look
at your messy room—”
“—which you don’t.”
“—which I do because it is in my home,” she continues,
straightening her already perfect-posture
spine, “this is all
going to be recycled.”
“That’s not fair. One, I need to pack. Also, don’t forget Dad’s
wedding is tomorrow, and that means I won’t have time to—”
My mother stiffens. I’m surprised she doesn’t hiss like a
vampire smelling garlic. She’s mentioned Dad a grand total of
three times since the divorce: once when he started dating Ms.
Wright, once when she found his old navy-blue
golf shirt in the
wash (I was using it as a smock), and once when the wedding
I didn’t think it was biologically possible, but somehow, my
mother’s spine gets even straighter. “Clean your room, or I will
deal with this when you’re gone,” she says and then leaves.
Since she’s gone back to work, my mother has been stressed,
but the past few weeks she’s been criticizing my summer trip—three
weeks at one of the most prestigious art programs for
high school students in the world—as
if it’s a personal inconvenience.
“I assume you’ll be taking the money for airfare out
of your Bat Mitzvah savings,” she had said immediately after
hearing I’d been accepted.
Grandpa understands, though. He knows what this opportunity
means. He knows that listing the DCYA on my college
applications is basically a golden ticket to the Rhode Island
School of Design. He knows how long I spent agonizing over
my application. Should I include a landscape or an abstract portrait?
(I went with both in the end.) What’s the best way to ask
my art teacher, Mr. Kall, for a recommendation? Will they even
want an American there when, according to my research/stalking,
they let in three Americans last year and their website says
they want “diversity of nations among the admitted students”?
I assume Grandpa pleaded my case to my mom, because
two days later, despite continuing to mutter about “wasting
And We’re Off
time” and “focusing on a precollege program,” she took me to
get a passport. And when Grandpa broke the news that he was
going to pay for me to travel around Europe before and after
the weeks I would spend studying at the Donegal Colony in
Ireland, she barely protested.
I begin cleaning up the papers from the floor: not just pineapple
doodles, it turns out, but old English reports (“Red Light,
Green Light: The Great Gatsby and American Industrialism”);
several failed self-portraits
created after spending hours studying
my face in the mirror only to end up with a drawing that
looked like Jar Jar Binks; a worksheet covered in calculus notes
that don’t look even a little bit familiar; and sketchbooks that I
can’t bring myself to throw away. Attempting to clean up now is
akin to asking someone to drain the ocean with an eyedropper
and be done by noon the next day: a futile effort. I let the pages
fall from my arms back onto the floor and return to my desk to
get a final look at the Drarry cartoon before I scan it to Tumblr.
Let my mother yell about my messy room all she wants. I’ll be
across the Atlantic Ocean.
The Library Of Fates
Author: Aditi Khorana
Publish Date: July 18th, 2017
Publisher: Razorbill Books
Enter for a chance to win one (1) of five (5) copies of The Library of Fates by Aditi Khorana (ARV: $18.99 each).
NO PURCHASE NECESSARY. Enter between 12:00 AM Eastern Time on July 10th, 2017 and 12:00 AM on July 31, 2017. Open to residents of the fifty United States and the District of Columbia who are 13 and older. Winners will be selected at random on or about August 5, 2017. Odds of winning depend on number of eligible entries received. Void where prohibited or restricted by law.
July 10 – The Fandom – Meet the Characters
July 11 – The YA Book Traveler – Indian Mythology in The Library of Fates: Guest Post by Indian Blogger, Aditi Nichani
July 12 – YA Wednesdays – Library of Fates Aesthetics
July 13 – YA Book Central – Library of Fates Excerpt
July 14 – Read Sleep Repeat – Author Q&A
July 17 – Bibliophile Gathering – Review
July 18 – Boricuan Bookworms – Author Guest Post
July 19 – Once Upon a Twilight – Review
July 20 – The Reading Nook Reviews – Review & Library of Fates Pendants
July 21 – A Page With A View – Author Q&A
July 24 – Fiction Fare – Author Guest Post
July 25 – Alexa Loves Books – Bookish Style File
July 26 – Novel Novice – Spotlight
July 27 – IceyBooks – Library of Fates Quote Candy
July 28 – Across the Words – Review & Fan Cast