Swordheart is one of those stories that lingers long after you’ve turned the last page. It felt like watching one of those nostalgic romantasy adventure films — The Princess Bride and its kindred — equal parts cozy and thrilling, full of wit, warmth, and just the right dose of absurdity.

I adored Sarkis and Halla’s relationship. Their banter, the yearning, the internal sass — all of it was pure joy. There’s action, yes, but it still feels like a warm blanket read, something that makes you laugh even as it stabs you in the heart a little. What I love most is how real they both feel. Halla, at thirty-six, is delightfully awkward and endearingly innocent — wonderfully human in a genre that often forgets to be. Sarkis balances her perfectly. He’s scarred, a little out of shape, and just grumpy enough to make his affection feel earned. For someone immortal, T. Kingfisher makes him profoundly human — flawed, funny, and quietly tender.

And the side characters? Utterly delightful. Brindle, the Ox, and Zale form the kind of ragtag found family you can’t help but root for — the perfect mix of chaotic and heroic. Their dynamic reminded me of Shrek, Fiona, and Donkey — mismatched, bickering, yet completely endearing. They bring color and levity to every chapter, grounding the story’s adventure with heart and humor.

Even when the action turns gritty or the fights get graphic, there’s still something strangely comforting about this world — like you’re traveling alongside them, laughing at the ridiculous moments, and falling a little in love with everyone by the end.

Swordheart is cozy fantasy at its most human — a love story wrapped in adventure, wit, and a surprising amount of soul.

Song choice: Accidentally In Love by Counting Crows