Moroda by L.L. MacRae

Today I am excited to be taking part in the blog tour organised by Escapist Tours for Moroda by L. L. MacRae. Thank you for having me along and for sending me a digital copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!

There is a giveaway further down the post – be sure not to miss it! Also please take a look at some of the other posts on this tour as listed below:

Moroda by L.L. MacRae
Series: World of Linaria
Genre: Epic Fantasy
Intended Age Group: 14+
Pages: 534
Published: May 30, 2022 (Second Edition)
Publisher: Self Published

In Linaria, dragons are revered as gods.
Airships command the skies.
And across the land, war is brewing.

Devastated by their father’s death, Moroda and her sister struggle to make ends meet. Things go from bad to worse when a rogue dragon destroys their city.

Fleeing on a sky pirate’s airship to escape the chaos, the sisters find themselves penned in by untrustworthy companions, a bloodthirsty warlord, and dragons on the rampage.

For Moroda, who would do anything to protect her sister, nowhere is safe. Not even the sky.

The balance of power in Linaria is tipping. Can one woman make a difference?

If you love dragons, airships, and sky pirates, you’ll love discovering THE WORLD OF LINARIA.

Buy here | Goodreads

Content/Trigger Warnings:

Shown on page:
Mild to moderate violence
Some swearing

See Also:

Do Not Meddle in Dragon Affairs • With Great Power • (Trying to) Do the Right Thing


My Review

I was excited to join the tour for this book as I thoroughly enjoyed both The Citrine Key and The Iron Crown by MacRae and was keen to read more of her work.

Moroda is a character driven fantasy written from multiple points of view. It’s the first of the World of Linaria series by L. L. MacRae.

The action begins right at the start of the novel, with Moroda being thrown into jail and meeting her cell mates – the over confident sky pirate Amarah, and the creepy snake person, Sapora, a Varkain hiding in the shadows of the cell. A rescue soon follows and hot on the heels of that action a dragon sets fire to the city they are in! What an exciting start to a novel – I always love a book with dragons and I was totally hooked from this point onwards.

There are a number of imaginative races living in Linaria – a realm where dragons are revered as gods – the shape-shifting Attallan, the snakelike Varkain, winged weather commanders and dragon hunters known as the Irillian, and humans, some races of whom have magical abilities. There are also airships, pirates, dragons, phoenixes. What more could you ask for in a fantasy series?

Moroda is a “Goldstone”, the name given to the well-to-do nobility. Her father recently died leaving her and her sister to fend for themselves, since their money has now run out. She finds herself with her sister Eryn on the airship Khanna, which belongs to Amarah, with two Attallan shapeshifters, a Varkain, an Irillian and a member of the Imperial Guard escaping from the dragon attack. This unlikely crew of misfits embark on an adventure to find out why the revered dragons have begun behaving in such an unusual and unpredictable manner.

“Easily twenty-five feet long, not including its tail, which swung furiously at the Arillian, the dragon’s bronzed scales were blackened slightly from the flame and smoke it breathed. Narrow, brown spines ran along the length of its back, almost black at the tail. For a creature so huge, it moved quickly; lunging and swiping, never still for a moment. With golden eyes tinged red, it watched the Arillian as he continued to avoid its lunges.”

The new crew of the airship Khanna get to know each other better, forge relationships and undertake a heist for an Ereven sphere – a device which can be used to track and control dragons – each of them being perfect for a specific role in the heist. Characterisation is one of MacRae’s many strengths and these characters are wonderfully fleshed out. The Irillian, Kohl, is able to fly ahead and scout for dragons and other dangers. The shape shifting Attallan can turn into a falcon, making him another useful scout for the crew. The Sky Pirate is a talented thief and was a favourite character for me. Morden, the Imperial Guard is a good fighter. Palom is an Attallan shapeshifter with a protective, father-like personality. He was another of my favourite characters. He stays on the ship ready to fight and protect the others as needed. Sapora is a Varkain, a snakelike race which is feared for their brutality. A morally grey character, he is able to conceal himself and strike when necessary getting rid of lots of the enemies they encounter as they become further embroiled in a plot hatched by a group of Irillians. Sapora was another of my favourite characters. There are conflicts and mistrust between these misfits to begin with but by the end of the story they respect and trust one another.

Able to fly and bring down powerful storms on anyone who gets in their way, the Irillians led by Aciel are a formidable foe. Aciel is able to control people and dragons using mental compulsion. These were a particularly interesting race and I would love to know more about their history and what has driven power hungry Aciel to be so determined to rid the skies of everything that isn’t an Irillian or a dragon controlled by Irillians.

I did not particularly warm to the character of Eryn, Moroda’s sister. She was unhappy away from the opulence she had been accustomed to growing up and seemed particularly inflexible to change. She appeared to have no sense of adventure. Morden, the Imperial Guard also seemed a little weak as a character to me. It was clear that he was falling in love with Eryn – but he didn’t seem to have any other real purpose in the story. I really enjoyed Moroda’s character development in contrast. She started off as a daydreamer and somewhat impractical young woman whose more capable sister thought she needed to look after her and try to keep her out of trouble. As time went on she became braver, discovered a tenacity and sense of adventure she didn’t know she had, learned and became good at both Samolen magic and flying the airship and by the end of the book she was a force to be reckoned with!

As the airship journeyed to various places within the realm of Linaria, the world was gradually and skillfully built around them, my favourite location was Berel, the city of mages, an oasis in the desert powered by dragon energy. The Varkain underground territory of Sereth, a very creepy world of tunnels and fighting pits was also intriguing. There were multiple kinds of magic among the different races. The magic of shape shifting, the Samolen magic, Irillian weather control and the energy emanating from the dragons which powered the city of Berel – each was compelling and I would have loved more about these magic systems.

There are complicated family dynamics in this novel, loss of loved ones, and strength through the teamwork of the crew – all of which make it a many layered and highly rewarding story. And did I mention the dragons?!! Of course they make Moroda a must-read for anyone like me, who loves these scaly fire-breathing creatures.


**International Giveaway **

Prize: An eBook Copy of Moroda!
Starts: June 27, 2022 at 12:00am EST
Ends: July 3, 2022 at 11:59pm EST

To enter click here or on the graphic below:


Author Bio & Information

Lauren is a fantasy author of character-driven stories and epic adventure. Her books usually contain dragons, eclectic characters, and are typically fun and hopeful. 

She lives in a tiny village in the UK, has a degree in Psychology, and was a professional copywriter before going full-time as an author—swapping corporate copy for magic and dragons!

She has previously published under the name L.L. McNeil.

Goodreads | Patreon | Twitter | Instagram | Facebook


Excerpt from Moroda

Morning dew flavoured her skin with the taste of autumn. Pale sunlight filtered in through the narrow, steel-barred window, and Moroda shivered in the cold cell of Rosecastle Dungeon. 

She shifted her position to ease the cramp developing in her aching back and legs. She was not in chains, thank Rhea, but that didn’t bring much comfort to the fear and uncertainty which plagued her.

Surely the threat of beheading had been an idle one? Something to keep the crowd from retaliating at her sudden arrest?

Only murderers and traitors to the crown were beheaded. 

She’d just voiced an opinion. She didn’t really believe they’d kill a woman for that.

Would they?

Before she could further consider her mortality, the door to the dungeon rattled and Moroda’s stomach tightened with an involuntary spasm as muffled shouts carried from the other side. Grunting and a shrieked curse pierced the air as the heavy oak door shook.

She backed away from her cell gate, the cold stone floor sending goosebumps rising on her arms and legs. She flinched, and something metallic jingled within the folds of her skirt. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out three silver coins, a set of scales emblazoned on each. 

She’d forgotten about the florins—the only money she had left—and another stab of panic pierced her.

Eryn would be so angry with her if she lost them.

Desperate, Moroda looked for somewhere to hide her treasure. If she put the coins back in her pocket, they’d jingle when she moved. She considered the window, before realising they would be seen between the bars. Dragons above, what was she going to do?

She let out a distressed whimper, then she spotted a cracked floor slab. 

Outside her cell, the steel hinges of the oak door creaked as it was heaved open, and she knew she had no time to look for an alternative hiding place. Shuffling over on her knees, one fist clenched around the coins, she wedged the fingers of her free hand under the stone slab. It was rough against her skin, but Moroda lifted it just high enough to slide the florins into the gap. The dungeon door slammed shut, the slab dropped into place, and the new prisoner entered the chamber.

The same guard who’d brought her to the cell barely an hour ago now wrestled with another woman—lowborn, from the rasp in her voice and the insults she hurled at him. She spat and kicked, even tried to bite the guard as she fought to free herself from his grasp.

Moroda pressed against the wall, equally terrified yet curious, and watched the guard frog-march the new prisoner towards her cell. 

Pressing the woman against the bars, he took the keys from his belt, unlocked the gate, and threw her inside.

Blood spattered the floor from an open gash on the woman’s shoulder, bringing a splash of colour to the grey dungeon. She immediately whirled around and threw herself at the gate, reaching between the bars and scrabbling for the guard’s face with chipped nails. ‘You pig! Bastard! Get this gate open now or I swear to Rhea herself, you’ll pay!’

‘Amarah, you’re done. No threat will change that.’ He shrugged. Beyond the reach of her flailing hands, she was no threat.

She snarled at the guard, animalistic in her fury. ‘Morgen, I’ll kill you for this!’ She covered the wound on her left shoulder with one hand. Blood trickled through her fingers as she tried to stem the flow. ‘At least get me a medic! You don’t want me to bleed to death in here, do you?’ Amarah’s eyes narrowed as the young man glanced at her wound. 

He sighed. ‘You aren’t going to die. Calm down and I’ll see what I can do, all right? Try not to cause too much trouble while I’m gone.’ Morgen walked towards the door.

‘What about Khanna? You ain’t gonna destroy that ship are you? She’s faster than anything the Imperial fleet has!’ Amarah followed Morgen and walked along the bars, reaching through them at the edge of the cell. ‘Be of some use, won’t she?’

‘I don’t know. It isn’t my decision. She’s locked up safe and sound, just like you.’ Morgen ignored her glare as he left the dungeon, slamming the heavy door behind him.

As the sound of his footsteps faded, Moroda held her breath, keeping herself as still as possible. Amarah hadn’t noticed her, and she was keen to keep it that way until the other woman calmed down. She’d never coped well with conflict. Who knew who Amarah was, or what she had done to warrant being locked up.

Moroda slid down the wall, until she was half-crouched on the floor, heart racing as she watched the uncouth woman. Perhaps if she stayed quiet enough, Amarah wouldn’t spot her before Morgen returned to take one of them away.

After a moment, Amarah turned and looked around the cell, pausing to scowl immediately at Moroda. ‘What do you think you’re looking at, girl?’

Moroda was taken aback by the harshness in Amarah’s voice. ‘I—I didn’t mean—’

‘Good. Shut up and keep out of my fucking way.’ Amarah strode past Moroda, looking over the rest of the cell. Her scowl deepend. ‘Damned if I’m staying here long enough to be executed.’

Moroda watched her carefully and said nothing.

Amarah released her shoulder and grabbed the bars, giving each a short pull, leaving the metal slick with blood. ‘Damn.’ Amarah shook her head and leaned against the metal gate, her hand returning to cover the wound on her shoulder.

‘What happened?’ Moroda allowed her curiosity to get the better of her, and braced for another insult.

Amarah shrugged. ‘Too much haste. Got sloppy. Made a mistake. Never again, I tell you.’ She closed her eyes, allowing silence to fill the cell.

Moroda took the opportunity to study Amarah’s face. Her hair was short, dark, and roughly cut. She wore no powders on her face or oils in her hair. A thin scar lined her left cheek, just below her dark brown eyes, pale against her tanned skin. Mostly, she looked grubby, as though she hadn’t bathed in months. 

She guessed the injured woman to be in her late thirties, but wounds and dirt did a lot to age a person, so she couldn’t be sure. Moroda kept herself small, hoping Amarah kept her distance while they were locked up together.

‘Morgen’s a fool. He ain’t fit to be in here. Neither are you,’ Amarah said, her sneer shifting into a lopsided grin. ‘I heard what you did this morning. Standing up to that foreign bastard.’

Moroda flinched as Amarah swore again, even as relief flooded her—her deed that morning had not gone unnoticed. Then again, she had been arrested publicly, so she supposed word of her actions—a Goldstone’s actions, no less—would spread like wildfire. Not that she was really a Goldstone anymore. Her heart sank as she thought back to the three florins she’d hidden. It was all that remained of a vast inheritance that should have ensured she and her sister were well kept until the end of their days. 

Moroda had wanted to leave. Run away from the debtors. 

Eryn had convinced her to stay. They could survive without their father and his money. They’d make it work. After all, Niversai was their home. Leaving the only place they’d ever lived was not only foolish, it was childish.

Moroda forced a smile, unwilling to show Amarah any vulnerability. ‘Thank you.’

‘That the only reason you get arrested? Or you do something else? Sleep with some other Goldstone you shouldn’t have, or something?’

‘What? No! N—nothing like that! I would never!’

Amarah’s cackle filled the dungeon, echoing off the stone. ‘Ah, you Goldstones are all the same, ain’t you? Little goody-goody rich girls who never get in trouble or do anything wrong.’

‘I’m not a Goldstone…not anymore.’ If only she’d left after her father had died… 

‘Yes, well I can see that, can’t I?’ Amarah grinned, licking her lips. She shifted her hold on her injured shoulder. ‘Can’t buy yourself outta this one, can you?’

Heat flushed Moroda’s cheeks and her stomach roiled. ‘Do you want me to help with that?’ She nodded towards Amarah’s shoulder, eager to turn their conversation away from her shame. ‘I can use some cloth to stem the blood? Won’t be permanent, but it should hold until help comes?’

Amarah paused for a moment before dropping her hand from her shoulder. ‘Yeah, if you can.’

Moroda tore a strip of fabric from the thick, dark cotton at the bottom of her skirt and wrapped the length of it around Amarah’s wound as best she could, tying it off with a secure knot. ‘There. That should help.’ She wiped her bloodied hands on her skirt, satisfied she’d done something useful.

Amarah inspected the makeshift bandage for a moment before approving it with a sharp nod. She glanced at the dungeon door through the cell bars and sighed. ‘I ain’t sticking around here. Neither should you, if you know what’s good for you.’

Moroda knew the woman was right. She didn’t think she’d be executed, but she didn’t want to wait around to find out. She’d never been in trouble with the Imperial Guard before, let alone arrested, and she didn’t have the first idea how to get out of her situation. Would there be a trial? Would she be allowed to plead her case? Beg forgiveness?

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to think. She’d never been any good at planning ahead. Her sister was the brains of their duo. Moroda just dreamt up the ideas.

She didn’t know how her sister managed.

‘Oh great, not a Varkain, too.’ Amarah’s harsh voice cut through Moroda’s thoughts.

‘But I’m not…?’ Moroda followed Amarah’s gaze to the back corner of their shadowed cell. Puzzled, she looked from Amarah to the corner, squinting in the darkness as she tried to make out what Amarah could see. 

Her heart raced when she spotted the silhouette of another person sitting in the shadows. How hadn’t she noticed them after all this time? She’d been in the cell for almost an hour!

‘I do love the sound of a panicked heartbeat.’

The smooth voice from the shadows set every hair on edge, and Moroda was on her feet in an instant, breath quickening as Amarah’s words resounded: Varkain. Someone was there. Someone who was mocking her fear. 

A Varkain was far more of a threat than Amarah could ever be.

She could have been attacked—killed!—at any moment. Had he just been playing with her?

Stumbling backwards, Moroda tried to put as much distance between herself and the Varkain as she could. She couldn’t even see him, yet her heart thrashed in her chest, as if desperate to flee.

‘Ah yes. And there is the accompanying scent of fear…such a nectar.’

‘Shut up you filthy creature.’ Amarah hadn’t moved, but she glared at the corner with such venom that Moroda thought she’d burn a hole through the stone floor. ‘Why are we in the same cell as you? What in Rhea’s name happened to enforced segregation?’ 

‘Perhaps they forgot. Being invisible is our speciality.’ 

Moroda’s heart thudded painfully. She couldn’t quite make out the Varkain’s features—the cell was too poorly lit and he was too still. She could have sworn she’d checked the cell over when she’d been thrown inside, and found it empty. 

Then again, she’d never come across a Varkain before. She’d grown up on stories of brutal Varkain killings and had no desire to be in the centre of the next one. Moroda couldn’t even think straight, the fear gripped her so tightly. She was lucky he hadn’t slaughtered her while she’d panicked about being beheaded.

‘Come out from the shadows, Varkain. Show yourself,’ Amarah ordered, her hand returning to her wounded shoulder. 

Moroda wanted to object, but her voice fled.

‘No. I am chained.’

Amarah’s shoulders relaxed and Moroda followed suit, happy to take the other woman’s lead. The Varkain’s chains had to explain why she hadn’t been attacked earlier.

She swallowed and tried to calm her breathing. 

‘Ah, well you’re just a worm then, ain’t you?’ Amarah cackled, wandering to the edge of the shadow. ‘Tied up and left for dead. It’s all you’re worth.’

‘Be quiet.’

Amarah crouched and sneered. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t take orders from anyone, not least the likes of you. Tell me, Varkain, were you given a name at birth? Or just abandoned in a nest somewhere?’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘Dumped in a hole in the ground and left to rot like the maggots you are.’

Moroda didn’t know what might come of taunting such a dangerous creature, but Amarah clearly thought he posed no threat.

‘Sapora,’ he answered, voice barely more than a hiss. ‘I know you are a sky pirate and thief, Amarah. And a murderer, just as I am. The scent of blood runs deep in your skin.’

Amarah snorted and straightened. She ignored the Varkain and paced the cell, clearly shaken. With her good hand, she grabbed one of the bars on the gate and furiously shook it. ‘Morgen! Where is my medic?’

Silence answered.

Amarah grunted and paced again, fingers tapping against her arm. It didn’t take long for her to notice the cracked stone slab. 

‘Oh? What’s this?’ She dropped to one knee and picked at the cracked stone. Within seconds, she’d lifted the slab and was rewarded with the glint of silver. ‘Every cloud has a silver lining.’ She snatched the coins and grinned. ‘Three florins. Perfect!’ 

Amarah pocketed them as quickly as she’d found them, and Moroda clenched her fists in response. She couldn’t bring herself to challenge Amarah, despite those coins being the only thing of worth she had left.

Especially not if she was a murderer as the Varkain claimed.

All her fight had gone out of her earlier that morning.

Moroda didn’t even know why she’d got involved. She’d been berating herself about it since she’d been arrested, in between panicking about whether or not she’d actually be beheaded. 

She’d been taken aback by the shift in behaviour of the townspeople after Aciel—a foreign dignitary—had arrived in Niversai some days previous. Even the Imperial Guard who’d been nothing but fair towards them had turned suddenly aggressive. Eryn had said it was simply a result of their ill fortune.

Moroda had been convinced that something else drove the shift in behaviour. The injustice.

Aciel’s speech that morning had been the last straw. 

A guest of the city. Invited into Rosecastle. Given an address to the gathered townspeople. And yet she couldn’t accept the words Aciel spewed, the condescension in his tone, the disgust with which he’d stared at her and the people of her city. 

As far as she was concerned, he was a pompous, arrogant bully who delighted in war-mongering, and she wouldn’t stand for it. Eryn had told her to leave it alone, but Moroda had lost too much too quickly to put up with more patronisation, and refused to be silenced. She hated conflict, had never learned how to deal with it properly, and she’d exploded.

Despite having his own soldiers, the city’s Imperial Guard had leapt to apprehend her when she’d spoken out. 

Her immediate arrest only proved she’d touched a nerve. 

Scare people enough, and no-one will stand against you.

The thought made her sick. 

Closing her eyes, Moroda exhaled, resigning herself to her situation. An hour ago, she’d been worried about being beheaded. Now, she was stuck in a cell with two murderers. She shook her head, wondering which fate was worse.

It took only a few minutes before the dungeon door was forced open again with another loud creak, but it wasn’t Morgen who walked down the corridor. It was a young woman clutching a ring of bronze keys close to her chest as she tiptoed across the stone floor in soft leather shoes.

Moroda couldn’t believe her luck. 

‘Eryn!’ She jumped to her feet and clutched at her sister’s hand through the bars. ‘What in Rhea’s name are you doing here? How did you get into the castle?’

‘Sshh, never mind that. I’m getting you out!’ Eryn glanced over her shoulder. 

Amarah approached the gate and elbowed Moroda out of the way. ‘Get on with it, then. Hurry up!’

Eryn tried each key quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when the successful one clicked and the latch lifted off the lock. 

Before Eryn could move, Amarah wrenched the door open and shoved past. ‘Get out now if you know what’s good for you!’ She raced down the corridor and disappeared from sight.

Clearly unfazed by Amarah’s brusqueness, Eryn turned to Moroda. ‘You heard her! Let’s go!’

Moroda faltered, peering back at the corner of the cell. She dreaded the Varkain’s wrath if he ever got out on his own and hunted her down. ‘Ryn? Do you have all the keys? There’s someone else back there…chained up.’

‘Moroda, this isn’t a jailbreak! I’m here to get you and get out!’ Eryn whispered through clenched teeth. ‘The guards’ll be here any minute, and I’ll be locked up too! Come on!’

‘I can’t. He’s a Varkain!’ Moroda grabbed the keys from her sister and ran to the dark corner, hesitating at the last moment. It was too late for second thoughts, now. 

‘There’s a Varkain in there? We should be locking the gate, not letting him out!’ Eryn cried, incredulous.

 Moroda felt it best to address him by the name he’d given to Amarah. She took a deep breath and ignored Eryn’s frantic whispers. ‘Sapora? You…you won’t attack me if I let you out?’ Her voice was as meek and small as she felt.

3 thoughts on “Moroda by L.L. MacRae

  1. Pingback: Rise of a Sky Pirate by L. L. McNeil (L.L. MacRae) | Sue's Musings

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