"Let there be a time in the future, I prayed, when he laughs with his children, and plays on the shore with them, and spends all his nights in loving arms. Let us have that. To whom I was praying I did not know. The future was in our own hands. If we wanted a world where such things were possible, it was for us to make it." 
 I have read a number of sequels this year that have let me down. Second book syndrome, third book syndrome, you name it. Generally, if I like the first book in the series, the subsequent ones will be lacking in some sense. Usually the fault lies within characterization. The first book generally develops the character, and all the development stops as soon as the second book begins. A good plot is always more than welcome, but it takes a hell of a lot more than that to develop a good story. I have been a long-time fan of Juliet Marillier; she has always a masterful storyteller and writer, and I am pleased to say that this book is an excellent continuation of this series. I don't think I need to say much on the quality of her writing; if you have read any of her previous books, you will know that Juliet Marillier's writing is beautiful, evocative, while avoiding the trap of being Dickensianly verbose. Her dialogue is believable, her dialects beautifully done, and written so well that despite their pervasiveness, I have no cause for complaints. 
 Let me digress for a bit while we're on the topic of dialects; in a lot of romance novels involving Irish or Scottish characters, the local dialect is more often than not, intolerable. Laughable. A mockery. They're of the Willie-the-Groundskeeper bent, if you need a little The Simpsons reference in your day. Ach! Ye ken, lassie. Ah, dinna fash yerself, laddie., and so on, and so forth. More often than not, such portrayal of Celtic dialects have me wincing and wondering why the collective countries of Scotland and Ireland do not issue some sort of ultimatum to romance writers everywhere involving the portrayal of their people's speech. 
 While the dialect of the Little People, the Good Folk, the Fey Folk, whatever you want to call them, is almost aurally transcribed, it is so well-done and so consistently done, that I find no reason to roll my eyes at all. The speech, the accent, the distinctive ways of speaking all feels completely in tune with the book's setting and characters. For example: 
 "'Guards?' Steep spoke with derision. 'Ye mean them in the ha'? Just for show, they are, save for the Twa. The real fighters, we're a' doon below. We're the strong backbone o' this place; wi'oot the likes o' us, wha'd keep the Southies in check?'" 
 Back to the meat of the book itself. This book is about learning, bravery, sacrifice. About overcoming your own principles and morals for the greater good. About surrending your own short-term wishes and dreams for the chance at a brighter future. About hope, about holding on to that hope when all seems lost. Lest I give the wrong impression about this book because of my high praises, this book is not saccharine sweet. There is no such thing as saccharine sweetness in a Juliet Marillier novel. The events in this book is harsh, unforgiving; life is difficult, people die, friends and strangers alike. There is no such thing as a "safe" character in this series. Beware to whom you get attached, because you might lose them. Still, life goes on, and the living must continue to live and fight and save the mourning for another day. There is no time for mourning, no time for weakness, because the enemy will use that weakness against you, given an iota of a chance. 
 This is not a standalone book, it is very much a continuation of a series, and while there is a small bit of summary of previous events, you will be hopelessly lost if you have not read the first book. In Raven Flight, Neryn continues her life with the rebel, but her training does not last long. As a Caller, her role is bigger than that. She has to seek and summon a number of Guardians, among them the Master of Shadows, the Hag of Isles, the Lord of the North. She has to travel quickly and lightly, so her sole bodyguard and companion is the imminently capable (albeit pricklier than a cactus), Tali. Along the way, they meet old friends, as well as the Good Folk, and encounter plenty of trouble along the way. The pacing is quick, the plot moves quickly and rationally. In other sequels, the action-packed plot still manage to bore me to tears because of the lack of character development. Not so here. 
 The most prominent characters in this book are the traveling companions of Neryn and Tali. Neryn is still weak, still overly soft. She is very human, despite what she has seen, despite what she has suffered, with high morals that bothered me at times. Neryn is powerful, but she is soft. She is reluctant to join the fight, even if she knows that's what is needed to win the war. 
 "It's going to be a long, hard fight, and people are going to die. You should know that, Neryn. What's needed here isn't soft dreams of true love. It's anger--the anger that drives a person forward. The fury that keeps them fighting right up to the moment the knife goes in. In our world there's no place for love." 
 Her rebel friends constantly remind her that she cannot afford such crises of conscience, that death is a necessity, that her gift is meant to be used, but Neryn is still frustratingly reluctant to use it, because she remembers how her power can kill as well. She has killed before, for the greater good; if she had not done what she did, even more rebel lives would have been lost, but Neryn is so stricken with her guilt that she can hardly bear to use her power of calling on the Good Folk in times of need. 
 "'Still weighed down by conscience? Even though what you did saved both our lives? Neryn, the rebellion depends on your gift. Without you, there's no chance we can do it in the time we have. You need to put these scruples behind you; if you can't, they'll become a burden too heavy for you to carry.'" 
 In the previous book, we met the prickly, antagonistic, permanently angry Tali. I didn't like her very much at first then, but her character is built up so much more in this book. It seemed to be a bad idea to throw Tali and Neryn together at first, and I questioned Regan's decision of assigning her to be Neryn's guard...so did Tali. She has been training Neryn, but in her mind, Neryn is still a weak, incompetent girl, ill-equipped to do what she must do to save them all. Her first impression of Neryn is not a positive one, she thought Neryn was "a wee girl wandering where she didn't belong, trying to do a job that was far too big for her. A girl who hadn't the first idea what kind of life she'd need to live if she became one of Regan's Rebels." 
 Tali is still strong, but she shows her more vulnerable side as we get to know her, and I came to love her as a foil for the oftentimes weak, soft-hearted Neryn. Tali is straightforward, she speaks her mind, she takes no prisoners, there is no bullshitting her. She does not coddle Neryn at all, she cuts Neryn no slack for her physical and mental weakness, and she is exactly what Neryn needs. She became my favorite character in this book. Tali has feelings, she loves deeply, but she knows to keep her emotions under wraps, because that is just hoping for too much. All she can hope for day by day is survival. Anything else is just a pipe dream. 
 "I have no children. I never will. I have no husband, no lover, no family. Only fellow rebels, others like me. All of them understand how it has to be. Hard. Cruel. Brutal. Full of choices like the one Andra had to face. That makes it all the more vital to keep what we do under strict control." 
 I have gone on for so long in this review, gushing about this book for a reason. Read this series. Read this book.