Penelope is a brave and clever peacemaker, able to bring together those with even the most profound of differences. Or at least she was in her mocked and misplaced journal. Truth is, there’s nothing special about her at all and she’s not good at anything but serving drinks. Not like Mildred with her powers, or Anne and her cult following. When Penelope intercepts a love poem not meant for her, she knows there’s someone out there that feels as lost as she does. If only she could find them.
Meanwhile, High Commander Bartholomew Barnes is more special than he’d like to be. Between a stagnant war, inexplicable rebellions, and his mopey page, Harry, who can’t read, he would just as soon burn all of his reports and hole himself up in the tavern. When a strange journal found by a scout crosses his desk, he finds what he didn’t know he was missing. But that’s not good enough unless everyone else knows they’re missing it too.
When their paths cross, the misunderstandings multiply, and so do the complications. With the elusive Butcher of the Bogs on the prowl it might not matter…