Two Twisted Crowns Audiobook – Shepherd King, Book 2

I’ll never forget listening to “Two Twisted Crowns” on a foggy morning while wandering through Portland’s Forest Park—the thick mist among the trees made Rachel Gillig’s dark, atmospheric world feel uncannily close. As someone who adores both fairy-tale forests and psychological intrigue, this sequel delivered an immersive spell from its opening lines.

Having loved “One Dark Window,” I was eager to rejoin Elspeth and Ravyn, their desperate quest now sharper as they hunt the final Providence Card before Solstice. The kingdom’s sense of doom seeps into every moment, mirroring those times in life when you know you’re racing a deadline that means everything—something I felt deeply during my own anxious transitions (switching careers in my thirties felt like trying to outrun encroaching darkness). Elspeth’s internal battles with the Nightmare—a monster sharing her mind—were particularly resonant for me; Gillig captures that uneasy feeling of having your own fears or doubts become almost separate entities you have to negotiate with. It reminded me of grappling with creative blocks or old anxieties: sometimes your worst enemy feels like it lives inside your head.

What swept me away most was the lush, foreboding forest setting and how palpably dangerous it became—not just a backdrop but practically a living character. There’s something timeless about stories where heroes must journey through literal (and figurative) darkness, especially guided by creatures who are not fully trustworthy. The tension between Elspeth and her inner monster added a delicious unpredictability—would she succeed or sabotage herself at the last moment? And then there’s Prince Elm: his courtly maneuvering and quiet pain offer sharp contrast, exploring another side of survival and hope.

The prose is elegant yet taut; Gillig doesn’t waste words but still conjures haunting images—a talent I always appreciate in fantasy novels since overwrought writing can dull even the best plots. Themes of sacrifice and healing pulse throughout without ever slipping into cliché territory. Instead, we get raw emotions: guilt tangled with courage, love hard-won after loss.

On dislikes: because the narration details weren’t available (and my copy didn’t specify), I’m left guessing if future listeners will get an equally atmospheric voice acting as what I imagined internally! An exceptional narrator could elevate this already mesmerizing material to new heights—I’d love someone who channels both softness for Elspeth’s vulnerability and menace for the Nightmare lurking within her thoughts.

“Two Twisted Crowns” stands out as more than just an adventure; it explores what happens when personal demons collide with external threats—and how sometimes saving others requires making peace with your own darkness first. For anyone craving layered characters against a gothic-fantasy tapestry rich in danger and hope alike, this is an audiobook worth wandering deep into—even if you have to brave some mists of your own along the way.