Fantasy Worlds. Sapphic. And Chess! I think I was sold before I even read the first page.

Immortal Game has become my introduction to Allison Saft's work. The way that they wrote and built the characters, merged memories into the present and built up the work and connection between the Otherworld and our world was really interesting and felt like a different style of take to what I'd read before. The dynamic between Ciara and Shea was endearing and did not head in the direction I initially thought it would, but seeing their relationship develop like a chess match itself was a lot of fun.

Thank you so much to Netgalley and the publisher for the e-arc of this book.
The premise of Immortal Game is not entirely unfamiliar, and there are a handful of tropes woven through these pages that would normally make me hesitate. The tale of two sisters, one carrying the burden of guilt for the other's fate, is a trope I've encountered often enough to greet it with a weary sigh. Yet stories are far more than the shapes of their bones, and this novel is proof that even familiar paths can lead somewhere enchanting.
Part of me cannot help but daydream about what this story might have become as an adult saphic fantasy: darker around the edges, wilder in its magic, sharper in its teeth. Perhaps that lingering curiosity is the only thing standing between this book and a perfect rating for me. Even so, its prose wrapped around me like a faerie glamour. The characters beckoned, the story whispered promises of wonder, and before I knew it I was reading while walking through the tide of disgruntled commuters during London's rush hour, utterly oblivious to the world around me.
I know next to nothing about chess, only having fond memories of trying to play it as a child. Yet somehow this book had me utterly spellbound. The characters were compelling enough, each pursuing their own ambitions and secrets, but what surprised me most was how invested I became in the matches themselves. Allison Saft transforms every move upon the board into something vivid and urgent, making the strategy feel as thrilling as any sword fight or magical duel. In many ways, it felt like a fantastical YA cousin to The Queen's Gambit. You needn't understand the intricacies of chess to feel the tension tightening with every move, to know that everything hangs in the balance. The depth of research is evident throughout, but even more impressive is the way Saft intertwines the game with her characters' hearts, fears, and desires.
Beyond the chessboard, Saft explores burnout with remarkable eyes. I was pleasantly surprised by the honesty of her portrayal: how the thing you love most can slowly become a source of pressure, exhaustion, and grief, and how rediscovering joy within it can feel like finding your way home after years spent wandering. It was thoughtful, resonant, and beautifully done.
I loved how the fae were portrayed in true fashion. These are not fashionable winged heartthrobs lurking in shadows. They are creatures drawn from older stories, beautiful enough to tempt, clever enough to outwit, and frightening enough to remind you that they are never entirely on your side. Proud, selfish, mercurial, and dangerous. I adored that humans and fae coexist in uneasy awareness of one another, and that only Midir's decree keeps their realms apart. The idea of a grand chess match held once every century to bind the two worlds together felt delightfully mythic, the sort of legend one might stumble upon in a forgotten book tucked away on a dusty shelf.
And then there is the romance. The saphic love story unfolds with exquisite yearning, lingering glances, sharp wit, and just enough magic to make every encounter sparkle. It is exactly the sort of romance I adore: slow-burning, irresistible, and aching with possibility. Though I loved them both, Ciara stole my heart entirely. I am, it seems, powerless against a sarcastic fae princess huntress with a dangerous smile.
The ending was nothing short of delicious: a celebration of sisterhood, womanhood, and the bonds that endure despite every hardship. It wasn’t surprising but it was exactly what the story needed Closing the book felt less like finishing a story and more like stepping out of an enchanted forest. Even now I find myself longing to return, to wander once more through the courts of the fae and lose myself among their bargains, secrets, and silver tongued lies.