Rachel Griffin has found magic in the most unlikely of places. As she was healing from a traumatic brain injury, the author worked on her newest YA novel, The Sun and the Starmaker. Despite the fact that she originally lost the ability to read, write, and be on a screen, the author is now back with a stunning new novel that is ready to sweep you away.
Cosmopolitan has an exclusive first look at Rachel Griffin's The Sun and the Starmaker, which is set to be released on February 17, 2026. The novel follows Aurora as she discovers the magic that is inside her after a sudden encounter with a Starmaker. Now off to learn about her new abilities, she finds herself closer to him than ever, but with secrets lurking in every corner, will she actually learn everything that she needs before its too late? Here's some more info from our friends at Sourcebooks Fire:
There once was a village so far north that most considered it the top of the world... and in that village, the Sun fell in love with her Starmaker. From the New York Times bestselling author of The Nature of Witches comes a whimsical and sweeping romantic fantasy.
Nestled deep in the snowy mountains of the Lost Range, the village of Reverie is a small miracle. Beyond the reach of the Sun, Reverie is dependent upon the magic of the mysterious Starmaker: every morning, he trudges across a vast glacier and pulls in sunlight over the peaks, providing the village with the light it needs to survive.
Aurora Finch grew up on tales of the Starmaker’s magic, never imagining she’d one day meet him. But on the morning of her wedding, a fateful encounter in the frostbitten woods changes everything. The Starmaker senses a powerful magic within her and demands she come study under his guidance. With her newfound abilities tied to the survival of the village, Aurora is swept away to his ice-covered castle and far from everything she’s ever known.
The Starmaker is as cold and distant as the mountain itself, leaving Aurora to explore his enchanted castle alone. Yet the more she discovers about the sorcerer, the stronger their attraction grows, pulling her closer to the secrets he refuses to share. But a deadly frost approaches and Aurora must uncover what the Starmaker is hiding before she is left in an endless winter that even the Sun cannot touch.
Before we sweep you away to the Reverie, you're going to want to take a look at the book's gorgeous cover that features Aurora and the Starmaker! We need to add this to our shelves ASAP!
And you can also check out an exclusive excerpt below! Just make sure to pre-order the The Sun and the Starmaker and maybe even pick up some of Rachel's previous releases!
An Excerpt From The Sun and the Starmaker
By Rachel Griffin
Chapter 3
Aurora couldn’t move, frozen in place by the cold and the hand and her fear. A stern, harsh voice said, “Don’t.”
The stag moved its gaze from Aurora to whoever stood behind her, then took off at a run. Aurora wanted to do the same, but she forced herself to confront the stranger who had stopped her arrow.
Slowly she turned, gasping when she saw the figure who stood before her.
The man was tall, with striking gold eyes the color of her mother’s wedding band. His hair was straight and gleaming and fell down his back in a cascade of liquid pearl that seemed to sparkle in the light like the snow. He was pale, and while his jaw was set in a severe line, Aurora couldn’t help but notice that his lips were the same soft red as her winterberries. He wore a stark white cloak that blended in with the world around him, and though he looked young, no more than twenty, he had an authority about him that made him seem much older.
She had never before seen him, of that she was sure, and for the span of a breath she thought she might die to see him again—he overwhelmed her.
Then Aurora cleared her throat and stood up taller, finding her senses. “You owe me an apology,” she said.
The man appraised her. “Do I?”
“Yes,” Aurora said. “You cost me food for my family for the better part of a year.”
“It is forbidden to hunt snow stags. Are you unaware of the laws, or do you simply not care for them?”
Aurora looked away. The truth was that she had forgotten. She had never happened upon a snow stag before, and the law must have been buried in her mind beneath the hope of providing so well.
“I forgot,” she said, wincing at how ridiculous it sounded.
“Well, the price for forgetfulness is not nearly as high as the price for a kill, but I’ll be taking these to help you remember in the future.” The man reached around Aurora for the remainder of her arrows, pulling them out of her satchel.
Anger rose in Aurora’s chest, and for a moment she couldn’t speak, stunned that he would steal from her.
“Those are mine,” she said, reaching for the arrows.
The man took a step back, and Aurora lunged toward him, grabbing for them. Instead of grasping the arrows, though, her hand closed around his wrist, and an intense heat moved through her. In an instant, the veins in her hand began to glow, an impossible golden hue that spread beneath her skin.
Aurora jumped back, and the gold faded.
The man watched her intently, staring at her hand before his gaze slowly moved up to her face. His eyes widened just slightly as he studied her, and Aurora could have sworn that a small smile passed over his lips, but it was gone almost as soon as she saw it.
He sighed, soft and slow. “I’ve been waiting a long while for you.”
The words broke something open inside of her, fear cascading through her body.
Run.
Aurora clung to her basket and took off, her lungs burning from the cold. Her boots sank deep into the snow, slowing her down, and she fought to move faster. One of her gloves slipped from her cloak and onto the ground, but Aurora dared not stop. She looked behind her to see if she was being followed, but the woods were as empty and quiet as they had been before the stranger’s arrival, her own steps and breaths the only sounds she could hear. When she turned to face forward again, she almost ran headfirst into the large white stag, the man standing coolly beside it.
Aurora stumbled backward, her body shaking. Killings were not something that happened in Reverie, and yet Aurora wondered if that was about to change.
The man took two steps forward and stopped in front of her with an annoyed look on his face. “Don’t move,” he said, and something about the severity of his voice made her obey. He reached out and took her wrist, and once again her veins began to glow golden.
“Who are you?” she asked, pulling her hand free and taking a step back.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
She watched him, his glimmering hair and impossible gold eyes, his stark white cloak and the air of something more about him, something that wasn’t quite natural. He was painfully handsome, and even though they were standing in the middle of a snow-covered forest on a mountain crawling with deadly Frost, he was warm, like the stones of the hearth in her cottage.
He was a man, yet he wasn’t a man at all.
Understanding slammed into her, and Aurora covered her mouth, slowly shaking her head. “You’re the Starmaker.”
She could hardly believe the words that fell from her lips, and she almost thought he would laugh at her outlandish guess. But he did not laugh. Instead, he bowed, a movement so small it was almost imperceptible, and Aurora stared at him, astonished. She knew people who had seen him before on the rare occasions when he’d had to address magic that had gone awry in the village, but it was a well-known fact that the Starmaker kept to himself.
“But it is common knowledge that you hardly ever show your face.”
“It is also common knowledge that snow stags are not to be hunted, yet here we are.”
Aurora’s cheeks flamed because she knew she should never have considered shooting the stag. The animal was far too beautiful, far too special to kill, and she was glad her arrow had fallen short of its heart.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but she kept her head high instead of cowering like she wanted. “I’m glad that I missed.”
The Starmaker did not reply, only watched her. An uncomfortable warmth rose within her, and Aurora wondered if it was the Starmaker’s doing or her own body’s reaction to him.
“What did you do to my arm?” she asked, remembering the way it had shone gold like his eyes. The way it had flooded with heat. “What did you do to me?”
“What is your name?” the Starmaker asked instead, studying Aurora with an intensity that made her heart race. She dropped her gaze to the ground.
“Aurora Finch.” She hoped her voice didn’t give away her fear.
“Aurora Finch,” the Starmaker repeated, as if considering whether he liked the way it felt on his tongue. “There is sunlight in your blood.” He said the words softly, almost with disbelief, and it made a shiver run down Aurora’s spine.
“Did you do that to me?” she asked.
Just then, the snow stag huffed, reminding Aurora that she, too, was ready to go home. If the Starmaker wanted to harm her, he would have done so already, and she was no longer interested in standing in the cold with fear in her gut. Still, the Starmaker was revered, and Aurora didn’t want to offend him, especially now that he knew her family name.
“I did not,” the Starmaker said, a hint of surprise still present in his voice.
“Then I presume I am safe and can continue on with my day? I truly am sorry for threatening your stag—I assure you it won’t happen again.” Aurora wasn’t clear on the etiquette when leaving a Starmaker, so she bowed slightly before turning on her heel to go, clutching the basket of winterberries to her side.
Aurora made it only three steps before the Starmaker was in front of her again, blocking her path. “Do you not know the stories of our mountain?”
“Of course I do,” Aurora said, unsure why he would ask such a thing. Her mother had been telling her the stories of Reverie since she was a young girl. Aurora always lay as still as possible as Mama sat on the side of her bed, telling her tales of the Starmaker and his magic, of enchanted lands and epic loves. She knew them all and held them close to her heart because they made her ache with devastation and gratitude to be alive.
“Then you ought to know that the sunlight in your blood means that you possess magic.”
Aurora took a step forward but lost her footing, almost falling into the snow, and the Starmaker reached out to steady her. Again, her veins shone gold.
“That’s impossible,” Aurora said.
“Improbable,” the Starmaker countered. “Not impossible.”
“Are you playing a trick on me?” It was all Aurora could think of to say, wondering if this was perhaps an elaborate joke concocted by her brothers to mark the day of her wedding.
“Do I look like the kind of person who”—the Starmaker paused, and his lips turned down in disgust—“plays tricks?”
“No,” Aurora admitted. “You do not.”
“If you’re done running through all the ways in which this isn’t possible, I would much appreciate if you could skip to the acceptance part so that we may get on with things.” Impatience laced his tone, and he ran his hand down his stag’s neck with an irritated sigh.
“Get on with things? What does that mean?”
“For someone who claims to know the mountain’s history, you are quite obtuse.”
“Then why don’t you speak with clarity and tell me what it is you want?” Aurora made sure her lack of patience was as evident to him as his was to her. “And do it quickly, because there is somewhere I need to be.”
“There is magic in your blood.” He looked at her expectantly, and when Aurora showed no sign of understanding, he spoke again. “You are to be the next Starmaker.”
Excerpted from The Sun and the Starmaker by Rachel Griffin, Copyright © 2025 by Rachel Griffin. Published by Sourcebooks.
The Sun and the Starmaker, by Rachel Griffin will be released on February 17, 2026. To preorder the book, click on the retailer of your choice:
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