Brittney Arena’s debut novel, “A Dance of Lies,” announces itself with a declaration that echoes through every carefully crafted page: “I am not a damsel. I’m no princess bound within a tower. I am a shadow.” This isn’t merely character posturing—it’s Arena’s manifesto for a fantasy romance that dares to redefine what strength looks like in a genre often obsessed with physical prowess.
The story follows Vasalie Moran, once a celebrated dancer in King Illian’s court, now emerging from two years of dungeon imprisonment after being framed for murder. When Illian offers her a devil’s bargain—become his spy at the six-week royal Gathering in exchange for freedom—Vasalie must navigate a treacherous web of political intrigue while confronting the painful reality that her body will never be the same.
The Art of Vulnerable Strength
What immediately distinguishes Arena’s work from the crowded fantasy romance market is her unflinching portrayal of disability and chronic pain. Vasalie’s journey isn’t one of miraculous recovery or magical healing. Instead, Arena crafts a protagonist whose limitations become a different kind of power—the strength found in adaptation, resilience, and the courage to move forward when every step causes pain.
The author’s personal experience with chronic illness infuses Vasalie’s character with authentic detail that never feels performative or exploitative. When Vasalie attempts to dance again, feeling “as if blades are dragging along my ribs,” the prose captures both the physical reality and emotional devastation with remarkable sensitivity. This representation fills a crucial gap in fantasy literature, where disabled characters are often either magically cured or relegated to secondary roles.
Arena’s writing style mirrors the grace of her protagonist’s former profession. Her prose flows with the rhythm of choreographed movement, particularly in scenes where Vasalie navigates court politics or recalls her dancing past. The author demonstrates a keen understanding of showing rather than telling, allowing readers to feel Vasalie’s limitations without constant exposition about her condition.
A World Painted in Shadows and Glass
The world-building in “A Dance of Lies” strikes an effective balance between complexity and accessibility. The divided kingdom of Miridran, ruled by three brothers with vastly different territories and temperaments, provides a richly textured backdrop for the political machinations that drive the plot. Arena’s attention to detail shines in her descriptions of King Anton’s glass-adorned territory, where innovation meets artistry in ways that feel both fantastical and grounded in believable economics.
The six-week royal Gathering serves as an excellent device for bringing together disparate characters and cultures. Arena uses this setting to explore themes of power, manipulation, and the masks we wear in polite society. The contrast between the glittering surface of court life and the darkness lurking beneath creates a tension that permeates every interaction.
However, the world-building occasionally suffers from information dumps that slow the narrative pace. While Arena’s enthusiasm for her created world is evident, some exposition could have been more seamlessly woven into the action, particularly regarding the history between the three kingdoms and their complex trade relationships.
The Dance Between Hearts
The romance between Vasalie and King Anton develops with commendable restraint and emotional intelligence. Arena avoids the instant attraction trope, instead building their relationship through shared moments of vulnerability and genuine connection. Anton’s character subverts expectations of the typical “reformed rake” by showing consistent kindness and respect for Vasalie’s boundaries—a refreshing departure from possessive alpha heroes.
Their chemistry crackles most effectively in quieter moments, such as when Anton helps Vasalie through a panic attack or when they work together in his glass workshop. These scenes showcase Arena’s skill at writing intimate moments that feel earned rather than manufactured. The physical limitations imposed by Vasalie’s condition add complexity to their romantic development, forcing both characters to communicate and find connection beyond traditional romantic gestures.
The romantic tension occasionally feels overshadowed by the heavier themes of trauma and political intrigue. While this creates a more realistic portrayal of how trauma affects relationships, some readers seeking traditional fantasy romance beats might find the emotional journey more subdued than expected.
Shades of Moral Complexity
Arena excels at creating morally complex characters who defy simple categorization. King Illian emerges as a particularly compelling antagonist—neither mustache-twirling villain nor misunderstood anti-hero, but a man whose cruelty stems from his own twisted sense of justice and possessiveness. His psychological manipulation of Vasalie feels genuinely threatening because it’s rooted in their shared history and his intimate knowledge of her fears.
The supporting cast, from the loyal Laurent to the enigmatic Gustav, adds depth to the political intrigue without overwhelming the central narrative. Each character serves a purpose beyond mere plot advancement, contributing to the themes of loyalty, betrayal, and the price of survival.
Vasalie’s father represents one of the novel’s most disturbing elements—the revelation of his true nature and past crimes creates a secondary layer of trauma that Arena handles with appropriate gravity. These darker elements prevent the story from ever becoming too comfortable, maintaining tension even during lighter romantic moments.
Technical Craftsmanship and Pacing
Arena’s background in visual design influences her descriptive passages, creating vivid scenes that feel almost cinematic in their clarity. Her description of Vasalie’s performances, particularly the flour-enhanced dance that opens the novel, demonstrates technical knowledge of both dance and stagecraft that adds authenticity to the artistic elements.
The pacing maintains steady momentum throughout most of the novel, though it occasionally stutters during transition scenes between major plot points. The three-part structure serves the story well, allowing for clear character development arcs while building toward the climactic revelations about Vasalie’s past and the true scope of the political conspiracy.
Some plot elements feel slightly underdeveloped, particularly the magical aspects introduced later in the story. While these elements serve important thematic purposes, they sometimes feel disconnected from the more grounded political intrigue that dominates the earlier sections.
A Voice for the Invisible
Perhaps the most significant achievement of “A Dance of Lies” is its representation of invisible disability and chronic pain within the fantasy genre. Arena’s author’s note reveals the personal stakes behind this representation, and that authenticity permeates every aspect of Vasalie’s characterization. The novel succeeds in showing that heroism doesn’t require physical perfection—sometimes the greatest courage is simply refusing to disappear.
The book also explores themes of agency and self-determination with nuance. Vasalie’s journey from victim to survivor to someone who reclaims her own narrative feels earned rather than prescribed. Arena avoids the trap of making recovery linear or complete, instead showing how healing can coexist with ongoing limitations.
Minor Missteps in an Otherwise Strong Debut
While “A Dance of Lies” succeeds on multiple levels, it’s not without minor flaws. The dialogue occasionally skews toward formal exposition, particularly in political scenes where characters explain plot points rather than revealing them through action. Some romantic scenes, while emotionally effective, could benefit from more sensual detail to satisfy readers seeking steam alongside the emotional connection.
The novel’s length sometimes works against it, with certain subplot threads receiving less development than they deserve. The mystery surrounding Gustav’s invention, for instance, feels somewhat rushed in its resolution despite its importance to the overall plot.
Books for Further Reading
Readers who appreciate “A Dance of Lies” might enjoy:
- “The Ten Thousand Doors of January” by Alix E. Harrow – For beautifully crafted prose and themes of finding power in unexpected places
- “The Priory of the Orange Tree” by Samantha Shannon – For complex political fantasy with strong female characters
- “The Song of Achilles” by Madeline Miller – For lyrical writing and mythological elements
- “The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue” by V.E. Schwab – For themes of invisibility and the power of being remembered
- “Spinning Silver” by Naomi Novik – For fairy tale retellings with complex moral questions
- “The Warm Hands of Ghosts” by Katherine Arden – For atmospheric fantasy with folklore elements
- “Circe” by Madeline Miller – For transformation narratives and finding strength through adversity
Final Verdict: A Promising Dance
“A Dance of Lies” announces Brittney Arena as a voice worth watching in the fantasy romance landscape. While the novel has minor technical issues typical of debut works, its emotional intelligence, authentic representation, and compelling characters create a reading experience that lingers long after the final page.
Arena has crafted a story that speaks directly to readers who have felt invisible in their pain, offering both escape and recognition. In a genre often criticized for its lack of diversity in ability and experience, “A Dance of Lies” stands as proof that strength comes in many forms, and that sometimes the most powerful magic is simply refusing to give up.
This is fantasy romance with substance—a book that entertains while challenging readers to reconsider their assumptions about heroism, healing, and what it means to dance despite the darkness. For debut novels in 2025, “A Dance of Lies” sets a high bar for emotional authenticity and representation that other authors would do well to follow.