The Knight and the Moth

I’ll admit, I went into *The Knight and the Moth* skeptical of yet another ‘beauty and the beast but make it dark’ tale—but Gillig’s novel carves its own path. The romance isn’t just smoldering; it’s *combustive*, built on a foundation of mutual distrust and the kind of banter that leaves emotional bruises. Vi (our moth-touched heroine) is a delightfully prickly protagonist, all sharp edges and hidden vulnerability, while the knight, Sir Alistair, is less a brooding archetype and more a man drowning in his own guilt. Their dynamic crackles with chemistry, but what sold me was how Gillig refuses to sand down their flaws. These are two people who *hurt* each other before they heal, and the audiobook’s intimacy makes every barbed exchange land harder. Hydeson’s performance elevates the material further. Her Vi is a masterclass in restrained fury—you can hear the smirk in her voice during cutting remarks, the way her tone drops to a whisper during moments of raw confession. The knight’s deeper register avoids cliché growling, instead carrying the weight of centuries in its roughness. My only critique? The middle act sags slightly under the weight of lore dumps about the house’s history (a common fantasy pitfall), and Hydeson’s delivery of the villain’s dialogue occasionally veers into mustache-twirling territory. But the final act’s emotional payoff—especially a heart-wrenching scene set in a crumbling greenhouse—more than makes up for it. This is an audiobook for listeners who want their romance drenched in gothic dread and their happy endings *earned*, not gifted.