Review of "Crown Prince" by W.D. Kilpack III

Score: 95+/100 (9.5+ out of 10)
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Crown Prince is an outstanding fantasy novel by W.D. Kilpack III!

This is more than just a fantasy novel—it's a beautiful romance story as well as an epic adventure tale!

Crown Prince is the first installment in the New Blood series, and what a first impression this series makes!

It stars exceptional characters like Natharr and Darshelle who are compelling, believable, hot, dynamic, badass, and cool!

It also features tremendous world-building. The world in this book seems lived in, featuring its own history and culture. Scratch that, it not only features one history and one culture, there are numerous histories and numerous cultures shared by a diverse and interesting cast of characters. Each region and group introduces unique traditions, beliefs, and conflicts that intertwine seamlessly, creating a rich tapestry of perspectives. This diversity adds depth to the narrative, making the world feel expansive and authentic, as though it exists far beyond the pages of the book.

Something that this book does beautifully is to show how there are two sides to every story. In fact, sometimes there are numerous sides to every story. "Savages" and "barbarians" to one group may be heroes to another group. This book masterfully explores how perspective shapes truth, revealing that morality and justice are often subjective. Characters who are portrayed as villains by one faction are shown to have their own motivations, values, and struggles that make them sympathetic or even admirable from another point of view. This nuanced approach challenges readers to question assumptions, recognize the complexity of cultural conflicts, and understand that history is rarely black and white, but rather a collection of interwoven narratives shaped by those who tell them.

There are two examples of this that really stand out in our minds.

In the beginning of the book, the people who live in the mountains are routinely referred to as "savages" and "barbarians" by the ruling kingdom. They are depicted as violent and uncivilized, posing a threat to the kingdom’s stability. However, as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that these mountain people have a rich culture, their own code of honor, and legitimate reasons for resisting the kingdom’s expansion. Their actions, once seen as hostile, are reframed as acts of survival and resistance against oppression.

Another such example is when Ellis the True, a elderly character who plays a significant role later in the book, starts to sing a song that's somewhat familiar to the main characters, but has a twist that's unique from his perspective as an elder and as a keeper of oral history. The song, which the main characters recognize as a tale of heroism and conquest, is revealed through Ellis’s version to have deeper, more tragic undertones. His rendition tells the story from the perspective of those who were conquered—highlighting loss, displacement, and the cost of war that the original version omits. This twist not only surprises the main characters but also forces them to reconsider the history they thought they knew.

Again, a traitor to one side may be a heroic whistleblower to another.

On that note, something else that's excellently portrayed in this book is the idea that human beings are inherently imperfect and that neither side in a conflict is 100% right or 100% good. Yes, we might cheer for one side more than another because we like something about them, are familiar with them, or support one (or more) of their causes, but that doesn't make them perfect or omnibenevolent.

We see this in the way that both kings in the War of Succession—King Valane (whose side the reader initially follows) and the treacherous Brandt the Usurpermake/Brandt of the Green—make morally questionable decisions, revealing that power and circumstance often force individuals into difficult, ethically gray situations.

Hey, sometimes you have to mount the severed heads of your enemies on walls to send the message that you don't want any more of them coming up those walls. Sometimes, it's either kill or be killed, conquer or be conquered, us or them.

A modern idealist might scoff at these notions, but truth often hurts, and reality is often harsh and brutal.

Again, in a perfect world with perfect people who always get along, this would not be the case. But this isn't a perfect world with perfect people who always get along.

And nowhere is that better exemplified and demonstrated than in the character of Natharr, the main protagonist. Despite him winning the reader over with his pure coolness and badassery, he's actually a bit of a morally gray character—an antihero who threatens to beat up and gut a kid like a rabbit and roughly grabs, pulls, and orders his eventual love interst around during a life-and-death event.

He's not a benevolent angel, nor is he a knight in shining armor, but you can really tell that he's more or less on the light side of things—more or less doing the right, good, and noble thing (in his mind).

And that's why we gravitate to him: he's trying.
He's fighting.
He's struggling.
He's doing everything he can to ensure that his people—the "good guys" (Darshelle, Nathan, and himself) survive.

Now, Natharr has some really great aspects of his character and some not so great.
First of all, he's as dynamic as he is morally gray.

In fact, the fact that he's so dynamic is both awesome and off putting.

How can that be?

Well, Natharr seems like an amalgamation of several different characters concepts that got mashed, mixed, and blended together. In fact, he's very similar to Elsa from The Devil's Conquest by K.M. Taylor in that sense.

Let's put it this way: he arguably has too many different powers and gifts.

Why is this potentially a bad thing?
Well, it takes away from a character's uniqueness.

What makes Spider-Man special and unique? Web-slinging and spider sense.
What makes The Flash special and unique? Unmatched super speed.

What makes The Hulk special and unique? Unmatched super strength.

What makes Doctor Strange special and unique? Powerful magic.

So, let's take a look at Natharr's powers, talents, and abilities... Natharr is a seer/precog/psychic (having the gifts of Sight). He's also the Guardian of Maarihk (similar to the head of the King's Guard from Game of Thrones). He's an elite warrior. He's a next-level archer. He's an expert military tactician. He's also a seasoned woodsman with advanced wilderness/forestry skills. Oh, he's also a bit of a healer/medicine man!

Darshelle responds to him in surprise, "You amaze me, my guardian... I would never have imagined that you are a healer, as well.”

It does kinda seems like these talents are just tacked on sometimes.
Is there nothing this one guy can't do?

Ok, to be fair he's not invulernable and can't fly or teleport, but we wouldn't be surprised if he did!

And this brings up what we call the "Superman problem."

Yes, Superman has a variety of powers and is still compelling, but... well, Superman is Superman. It's hard to write a character like that without completely killing the tension. Superman is compelling because of what he represents: ultimate power contrasted with profound humanity. He's an immigrant in a foreign world. He's also a lover and a son. He's strangely relatable to most people as a person due to his personality, feeling, emotions, and experiences despite being dramatically unrelatable to everyone as a superhero due to his Swiss Army Knife of powers.

It does make this book and the character dynamics seem a bit unbalanced. For example, couldn't Darshelle have had more abilities unique from Natharr, perhaps a complementary one? Like, maybe she could have had white mage or seeress powers? Even villains like Brandt or his followers don't seem to have powers like Natharr does. In fact, Vikari/Nathan—the Gohan of this book—is probably the only other person who shows power(s) comparable to Natharr. No, we don't count the lion-folk as having powers per se, they more so benefit from a unique physiology and honestly don't seem all that much of a threat to Natharr, more like an annoyance. It almost seems unfair and lopsided. Perhaps the sequel(s) will give Natharr someone formidable who can match him? Perhaps an overpowered villain or antagonist of some sort?

Yes, Superman has Lex Luthor, but he also has Doomsday, Zod, and Darkseid.

Batman has The Joker, but he also has Bane.

Spider-Man has Venom and Doc Oc.

Goku has dudes like Vegeta, Frieza, Cell, Buu, and Beerus.

The Undertaker had Kane.

An overpowered superhero needs an overpowered counterpart, otherwise the character and story dynamics become unbalanced and lopsided. Maybe (in the sequel) Brandt can hire an elite assassin or mercenary to take on Natharr? Maybe Nathan can be turned to the Dark Side (which seems to be what's going on anyway)?

With all that said, we were still entertained by Natharr for the most part.

Part of that is not really Natharr himself or all of his powers, it's actually the relationships he shares with others, especially Darshelle and, later, Nathan and Ellis.

Natharr is the kind of character that can't exist in a vacuum, which is ironic because he becomes a bit of a hermit or rogue later on. He's a thousand times better when he plays off of others.

And there's no other character he meshes better with than Darshelle, the lead female character and love interest in the book. Darshelle is instantly a compelling character despite being introduced so subtly and in a relatively mundane role (given the enormity of the surrounding succession war and royal family drama).

She begins as nothing more than a wet nurse, a role that could have easily left her overshadowed by the larger-than-life figures around her. However, Darshelle is anything but forgettable. From the moment she is introduced, there is an underlying strength and complexity to her that sets her apart. She isn’t a warrior, a queen, or a sorceress—she’s an ordinary woman thrown into extraordinary circumstances. And yet, she not only survives but thrives, carving out her own space in the narrative alongside characters who are physically stronger, politically more powerful, or mystically gifted.

What makes her especially compelling is how she acts as a foil to Natharr. While he is brooding, battle-hardened, and often guided by destiny rather than personal desires, Darshelle is deeply emotional, fiercely protective, and unafraid to challenge him. She provides a grounding force for him, constantly questioning his decisions and forcing him to consider the human cost of his actions. She has no prophetic Sight, no legendary combat skills—what she has is fierce maternal instinct, resilience, and a sharp mind that allow her to stand toe-to-toe with one of the most powerful men in the story.

Her relationship with Nathan (formerly Vikari) cements her role as the heart of the novel. She isn’t just there to take care of him—she shapes his upbringing, serving as his moral compass and primary source of warmth in a world filled with violence and power struggles. Unlike Natharr, who often treats the child as an obligation tied to destiny, Darshelle sees him as a person first, a prince second. She loves him not because of what he represents, but because of who he is, and that love becomes an essential force in the story.

But perhaps the most striking part of Darshelle’s character is that she never fades into the background. Even when the story shifts focus to battles, politics, and ancient powers, she remains one of the most vital voices in the narrative. She holds her own in conversations with warriors and kings, refuses to be sidelined, and makes her presence known not through brute force, but through sheer willpower and intelligence.

Her dynamic with Natharr is at the core of what makes his character work. She challenges him, humanizes him, and, in many ways, saves him from himself. Without her, Natharr risks becoming another tragic, lonely hero weighed down by duty. With her, he is something far more interesting: a man forced to confront his own limitations, to acknowledge emotions he would rather suppress, and to consider the possibility that fate alone is not enough to shape a life.

Another thing we really loved and appreciated about Darshelle is that she isn't portrayed as conventionally beautiful, sexy, or hot in the present-day sense. She isn't a skinny young little Barbie with perfectly smooth skin and shiny Revlon hair. In fact, some of her skin is covered in stretch marks—purple, pink, and red ones. However, Natharr—like many men (surprisingly)—finds this attractive, especially since they indicate fertility from an evolutionary standpoint.

This is such a refreshing and realistic take on female beauty, especially in a genre where heroines are often described as impossibly flawless. Darshelle's attractiveness isn't based on societal standards but rather on her strength, resilience, and the natural marks of motherhood—things that, in many ways, make her more appealing. Her stretch marks aren't hidden, ignored, or framed as imperfections to be overcome; instead, they are embraced as part of who she is.

Natharr's appreciation of her is also deeply character-driven. He isn’t drawn to her because she fits some idealized vision of beauty; he is drawn to her because she is real—a woman who has endured hardship, brought life into the world, and continues to fight for those she loves. His attraction to her isn’t just physical; it is rooted in admiration, respect, and an understanding of the life she has lived.

This also adds another layer to their dynamic. Darshelle isn’t presented as some untouchable fantasy figure—she’s flesh and blood, with all the marks and scars that come with a real life. That makes her connection with Natharr feel more authentic, more earned, and, ultimately, more meaningful. It also reinforces one of the book’s strongest themes: strength, beauty, and worth are not defined by perfection, but by resilience and character.

Speaking of Darshelle, the relationship she has with Natharr makes this an exceptional romance tale as well as being a fantasy story.

This book does something that we really appreciated: it was tactful.

Want to know how to tactfully write sex scenes?
Read this book!

So often, we read books that just have no chill or tact with regard to their sex scenes. In sex scnes in those books, it seems lik every other word is an expletive. Characters are just forcefully pulling and/or tugging at every orifice and private part with little or no consent. They don't check on their partner to see if they're ok or even still breathing. And they have sex in machine-gun fashion seemingly every hour! The dudes don't even have to reload and the gals don't have to use the restroom or shower afterward. Those books just seem really over the top and unrealistic.

Well, that's not a problem in this book!

Yes, Natharr and Darshelle are physically intimate, but it's beautiful and tactful.

"Am I hurting you?" Natharr asks Darshelle, showing consent and consideration as he touches her. It should also be noted that the intimacy between them isn't just sexy for the sake of being sexy, it's relevant to the characters and the plot. For example, in the aforementioned scene, we learn both about the wound/scab on Darshelle's back as well as Natharr's Dryad healing skills.

And rather than being explicitly focused on the sex itself, we get almost poetic descriptions of the acts like:

"Natharr frowned at the crackling flames, elbows resting on his
knees, fingers laced. He could still feel the intoxicating press of
Darshelle’s legs around his waist, smell her breath on his face and in
his whiskers, taste the milk of her breasts. They had not said a word
after they exhausted their passions, each exulting in the moment, the
blaze of their emotions."

In this passage, the flames of the campfire are juxtaposed with the flames of the passions of the two characters.

In another scene, the verge of climax is described as "just shy of rapture."
We know what the book is talking about without being explicitly told.

Later on we get the passage:
"...they remained there in bed, each of them
glistening with sweat, gasping for breath..."

We know they were going at it without being told they were going at it. And that's good writing.
Show don't tell.

That's not to say the writing is perfect. There's an error or two (like "drown in the dessert" rather than "drown in the desert").

Another strength of this book that we alluded to earlier is how sprawling and detailed the world of this book is. There are the mountain clans, fierce and independent, who are often seen as barbarians by the more “civilized” kingdoms, yet they have their own rich traditions and a deep connection to their land. Then, there are the Qaanese, whose customs and naming conventions set them apart, influencing the way characters like Nathan transition into their new identities. Darshelle talks a ton about Qaanese culture and the land of Qaan, a place of rolling grasslands and plains—where women don't marry. They also name their kids after their parents.

This is compared and contrasted with Natharr's role as a Guardian of Maarihk. Natharr says that, per Maarihkish tradition, Guardians don't marry because they are married to the state.

Then there's the lion-folk, or Beasts, like Talika and Alira. As alluded to before, their physiology and animal insticts make them somewhat fearsome and threatening, but they mostly just want what everyone does: to survive.

There are the Hamadryads, forest spirits with the beauty of goddesses who, like Sirens, are seductive and potentially dangerous. However, they also have powerful healing ingredients.

Religious and philosophical differences also shape the narrative. The struggle between the followers of the Olde Gods and the New Gods is not just a subplot—it actively influences politics, personal beliefs, and character motivations.

Even within the central kingdom of Maarihk, there are intricate power dynamics at play. The noble houses, the royal bloodline, and the forces seeking to overthrow or manipulate the throne create a sense of political tension that makes the stakes feel real.

If there's one weakness this book has, it's that it really loses momentum about half way through.
This book started off with a bang, then it really seemed to meander and wander aimlessly before finally getting back on track.

That whole time stuck in the ancient forest with Nathan seemed a bit flat and boring.

Speaking of Nathan, it's hard not to feel for the kid. There's a point where he basically says that his only friends are his mom and dad because of how sheltered he is. How sad is that?

Anyway, this is overall a great book.

Check it out on Amazon!