Bel Banta is not a new name on the scene, but she’s finally making the big splash that we’ve all been waiting for. Her debut novel, Honey, was an instant favorite in 2024 and since then she’s been hard at work at her new novel that not only brings her to a completely different genre, but brings readers to a new side of the Forbes 30 Under 30 honoree. And now we’re finally getting our first look at it all in this brand new sneak peek that will make you want to pick up this read ASAP.
Cosmopolitan has an exclusive first look at Bel Banta’s The Court of Venus, which is set to be released on September 29, 2026. In this new romantasy novel, we are transported to Alvion, where a special kind of magic has finally returned after more than 1000 years in the hands of Bianca Mortlake. But with a furious and unstable court running the kingdom, Bianca must now work with her most unexpected ally in order to set things right. Here’s some more info from our friends at Tor Books:
The Court of Venus is an ensnaring romantic fantasy in which a moon-blessed magician is summoned back to the deadly magical court she thought she had escaped; where power is determined by the stars—and the closer you are to the king, the more likely you are to die. Perfect for fans of The Knight and The Moth, The Familiar, and A Darker Shade of Magic.
In Alvion, magicians have always ruled beside kings. Blessed at birth by one of the seven planets, their abilities are miraculous and extremely rare. Magicians born under Jupiter influence luck. Saturnborn can speak to the dead. Venusborn read the desires of the living.
At the moment of Bianca Mortlake’s birth, the stars and planets aligned just so, making her the first Moonborn magician in over a thousand years. A sorcery so rare that even the history books cannot say what she is capable of.
After a childhood training under the realm’s most powerful magician—and alongside a most insufferable Venusborn named Roland—Bianca lives a quiet life far from court. Until a chilling missive arrives in the night, summoning her back.
A mad and deadly court awaits. Two queens have met the executioner’s blade, and one wrong move could see any of them next beneath its steel. As power is pulled between ruthless royals and courtiers like the tides by the moon, Bianca must rely on the last person she would ever want to—the infuriatingly alluring Roland.
Because something is terribly wrong in Alvion. And only this moon-blessed magician and her oldest rival can save the court—and each other—from the dark fate they see written in the stars.
The book’s stunning deluxe edition will be a must-have on your shelf and you can finally see it in all its glory below along with the book’s cover. The book will be released in a “gorgeous hardcover featuring gold edges, illustrated endpapers, and 8 full-page interior illustrations.”
The cover is by Felix Abel Klaer, the cover design by Peter Lutjen, and the cover art direction is by Christine Foltzer.
And that’s not all. You can get a deeper look at the dazzling new read with an exclusive excerpt below. Just make sure to pre-order The Court of Venus before diving in!
An Excerpt From The Court of Venus
By Bel Banta
One
As the Moon has many faces, so too do her magicians.
— Prospero the All-Knowing, The Celestial Bodies
The letter arrived in the night.
Tell no one, the page said. Read it quick. He insisted on seeing the paper go up in flames before accepting his coin. I recognized Roland’s hand immediately, could picture the delicate fingers wielding the quill, the proud stacks of signet rings collected from powerful men. The pink hair he brushed away from his eyes as he wrote.
I read the invitation over again, then tossed it into the fire. The paper curled in on itself, writhing and twisting. Flames leapt up, well fed, and I watched them thrash for a long while, turning my thoughts over. The world outside began to stretch: the clapping of hooves, the strike of knives against meat at the butchers. Still I waited. Only when the sun was undeniable did I start packing my things.
~
On the choppy water, in the hull of the rocking boat, I remembered him. My stomach had churned with the ship, so I lay belowdecks on a pallet with my hands clasped over my chest. My girlhood returned to me in the dark.
Roland. Friend. Rival. What else was he to me?His name had gathered weight and influence since we’d known each other as children. Before he became lord chancellor, before his name became synonymous with power, Roland once blushed easily, tides of joy and humiliation sweeping across his face with every compliment. He sometimes played rough and bullied the other children in the palace, but he would shut himself away and cry afterward, deeply ashamed.
Every courtier, even then, loved him by accident. He was a dog they’d shelter for the night, but before they knew it, he’d made a home and was rearranging it the way he liked.
He was too wrecked by his emotions to control his magic the way I could. Often scolded for it. And as time passed, as he emerged from his youth more beautiful than anyone had a right to be, he and Prince Hal would sneak out of the palace and into the city, leaving me behind. I was too young, they said when I begged to come. A girl.
Roland would arrive at tutoring the next morning with bags under his eyes, wine still circulating through his blood, and only a scowl for me. But at night, if he couldn’t sleep, I’d help chase away whatever demons kept him turning.
“Bianca?” he would say softly. “I’m feeling too much.”
I’d lay my hand on his cheek and let fatigue drift from my mind to his. Hal would already be there—Roland often slept in his room. I’d curl up beside them as a cat. The three of us would drift off together. Nestled between us both, Roland could finally sleep. Listening to our breathing, sure he was not alone.
I couldn’t help but hold that version of him in my head as I descended from the ship. The noise and smell of the city overwhelmed. Clouds of dirt were kicked up by hooves. I paid a hefty stack of pennies for a seat in a cart going to the palace. As I ordered my trunks packed inside, fishmongers and noblemen stared. Stared at everything that marked me as strange: the bone-white hair peeking beneath my hood, the eyes shifting from dove gray to opalescent depending on the light. They knew what I was. Some may have even heard my name.
I jumped from mind to mind, eased all the fear I could. As I smoothed the jagged edges of their alarm, they smiled, as if they meant to welcome me all along.
Still, whispers followed me from the docks. The driver, licking a dead tooth on his gum, said he was waiting on another before he’d drive us both to the palace, so I had to endure the murmurs, the sidelong glances, even the children pointing their fingers in my direction.
The other magician took his time disembarking the ship.
A Mercury. Silver eyes and hair at first glance, but there were veins of colors threaded throughout, blues and pinks and reds. He had a wry, thin mouth, dark brown skin, a slight build. He wore a common leather doublet and a feathered cap, carrying little with him as he jumped into the cart beside me.
I wondered if he lived in a court or was for hire. Mercuries coded intri- cate ciphers and invented new languages, tongues meant to be read or spo- ken by only a select few. They could turn a wheel inside a mind to make it comprehend a language it had never heard before. I’d experienced this only once, years ago at court, when a visiting Mercury simply placed his hand on mine and suddenly, I could understand every word of Carmingian the ambassador spoke. But just as quickly, the ability slipped away, sounds muddled once again.
With a bow of his gleaming head, the Mercury introduced himself as Oliver.
“Bianca.”
He grinned. “Oh, I know.”
Our driver whipped the skinny palfrey hitched to the cart, and we were off down a side street and along the winding river—the Snake. So called not because of its shape, but because once the waters had been so poisonous, anyone who drank from it fell ill. “I’ve not seen more than one magician in my whole life, and now I have two,” our driver said, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t mind magicians myself, since there ain’t much in my head to steal, in case you get the idea to take a look.”
Oliver snorted. The rumored powers of magicians were widespread, often misleading. But in this case, the driver was right. I could pluck a memory from his mind if I so wished to.
Oliver twisted a coin between his fingers as he stared down the thin, crooked alleyways. I imagined any one of them might lead to the inn where I was born.
I turned back to the near-flooded river. When the court was on the move, it would be full of royal barges roving between town houses and the various castles along the banks. Now the king was in residence at Redhall, his favorite palace. The day was clear. The sun glittered on muddy water, on the jewels around my neck and the amber brocade of my gown.
Every so often on the road, there were dead bodies wrapped in cloth and covered in flies. Plague and sickness—a shadow following the king and his court. Not even Roland could stop it. Oliver hid his face in his sleeve whenever we passed a corpse.
The gesture returned to me to another time. Roland, fourteen or so, flinching at the corpses when the court was on progress during a sweaty, stifling summer. It seemed like the entire city had fallen ill. He stared out the window of our coach. Just then a cart carrying a pile of bodies passed by. A single gray hand hung limp. Roland shuddered. “What planet rules death?” he asked.
Prospero frowned. “Saturn. But no magician can raise the dead, Roland.” Roland bit his lip, then jerked his chin toward me. It was a thrill, as al-ways, to be acknowledged by him. “Bianca lied and said she could.”
“No, I didn’t,” I sneered back. I’d said I could calm someone about to die or help them gather their courage as they slipped away. Prospero always said emotions must be guided steadily down a determined path, just as the Moon changed from crescent to full and back again.
“If Bianca could stop death, then every courtier would kneel at her feet and call her saint.”
Roland leaned his cheek against the carriage window. “No, they wouldn’t,” he muttered to me. “You talk to yourself, and you prefer being a cat or a mouse instead of a girl.”
Then I was lurching out of the past, and there was the river again, rushing by.
Oliver, bored of the silence on the road, turned to me. “You were trained here at court,” he said. “By Prospero himself.”
I nodded. Prospero had been King Richard’s court magician and lord chancellor, but above all, my tutor. My father in all but blood. To every- one’s shock, Prospero had taken two apprentices. First Roland, and then, years later, me. Roland had never forgiven me for it.
Oliver’s cadence quickened as he told me he had been invited to court at the age of seven for an audience with Prospero, but the magician had dismissed him after a demonstration. He hadn’t wanted to live in the pal- ace anyway, he assured me, didn’t want to be taken away from his family so young. He had eventually made his fortune off nobles who required ci- phered correspondence. “To write to their mistresses,” he added, “or speak ill of the king. I’ve done well to trade in secrets.” Then he turned to me. “Did you know the prince?”
I struggled with my reply. “Yes, I did.”
“Shame he died. They say he went out riding and dropped dead, all alone in the woods. How many years ago was it now? Two years? Three?”
“Three,” I confirmed.
He looked at me strangely, then asked more questions about my up- bringing at court. He was particularly curious about Roland.
Well. It had been an age since I had last laid eyes on him. I now knew him in fragments, if at all. Soon after Prince Hal’s death, Roland had re- turned to Alvion. An accomplished courtier, he wielded charm instead of a sword, though he was masterful with a sword, too.
Then the gossip turned. The entire court was either falling in love with him or recovering from him. The king favored him above all others, even Prospero. Roland chewed the king’s food for him, then would spit it into his mouth to swallow, like a bird for her chick.
And six months ago, the news reached me up north: Prospero dead.
Queen Eleanor dead. Roland named lord chancellor.
“Guard your desires around him as best you can,” I warned Oliver. “He’ll use them against you.”
Oliver gripped the sides of the cart as it jolted beneath us. “This tour- ney to honor the new queen—what do you make of it? I was told it was treason to deny His Majesty a show of my powers.”
“I’m sure it’s Roland’s doing,” I said. “He’d like to know who could replace him. To survey us.”
When we were children, he would host contests. It would be things he excelled at: dancing, or lute, or archery. I always lost. There were only so many times one can stumble. Scrape their knees. Break a bone. That first humiliation—and each one thereafter—was not forgotten at court. And I had not forgotten, either.
“Are you one to hold a grudge?” Oliver asked.
He was perceptive, of course. A Mercury, master of communication. He would have noticed something in my expression, the way I watched the river like its undertow would drag me down into memory.
“No,” I lied unconvincingly.
Magicians could sense danger coming, the churn of a storm days away. We read the sky so well it nearly whispered to us. And the air was already thick and smelled of rain as we slid beneath the portcullis and into the palace courtyard.
Roland didn’t need to threaten me with treason; I wanted to come. I had prayed for it, even. I had spent years waiting for the king’s banners to crest the hill.
Until I decided to make my own way.
Excerpted from The Court of Venus by Bel Banta. Copyright © Isabel Banta, 2026. Published by Tor.
The Court of Venus, by Bel Banta will be released on September 29, 2026 from Tor. To preorder the book, click on the retailer of your choice:
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