My definition of a brilliant story is one that forces you to forget about anything else beyond the plot, making you feel as though nothing else mattered aside from the tale that was slowly unfolding in front of you. It is one that gets you so thoroughly invested in the characters that you actually end up sharing their experiences--even to such a degree that the lines between you, the reader, and the characters get blurred. The risk of reading such a story is that it's so damn hard to move on. Even after finishing it, you merely curl up in a corner and relive the events in the book. You go back to every smile offered, ever kiss given, every touch shared by the characters that made the book so meaningful. You simply relish every part of it, even those that tore your heart into two. 
 And Thief of Shadows is such a story for me. It's been a few hours since I finished it, yet I'm still having a hard time forgetting everything. My brain feels a bit dazed, befuddled by my emotions about what happened in the book. And that's how I know that this is nothing short of brilliant. 
 I can understand why others may be reluctant to give this full marks, though. While this story is indeed beautiful, it is painful in its beauty. We have a barren heroine who, because of past hurts, hides herself behind a mask of frivolity and sophistication. We have a hero who denies himself the joys of living to fulfil a seemingly impossible goal. They find each other, but before they can accept their love, they must first accept themselves--their humanity, their limitations. And that's when the pain gets overwhelming. How do you cope with the fact that you can never create life with the one you love? How do you stomach the idea that others can easily get what you can never have? How do you accept an imperfect, incomplete love? 
 Reading this book is not a walk in the park. It claws at your heart with its poignancy, and shocks you with its raw sensuality. But it's worth it. The realism may be suffocating at some points, but gives the book depth. Winter and Isabel may be imperfect leads, but they are perfect together. 
 He talked to her as if she mattered. 
 And considering it now, she realized no one had ever been curious about her, Isabel the woman. She had been wife and daughter, lover and witty society lady. But no one had ever looked beneath those masks to find out what the woman who wore them really thought. 
 Was it so terrible to want to be closer to a man who saw her as a person? 
 The prose is perfect, as is expected from Ms. Elizabeth Hoyt. The pacing, plot structure, equally amazing. I just love this book and it's definitely one of my favourites.