If you loved how Juno Dawson threads witchcraft through the modern UK—HMRC briefings, council votes about Theo, and Leonie’s grassroots Diaspora Coven—then Jemisin’s living, breathing New York will hit the same nerve. In The City We Became, borough avatars fight a creeping, otherworldly threat with civic pride as their magic, squabbling and strategizing much like Niamh and Helena’s factions do when policy meets spellcraft. It’s that same rush of seeing urban life weaponized into wonder—and bureaucracy—only turned up to eleven.

You were hooked by the political tightrope in Her Majesty’s Royal Coven—Helena whipping votes, the tribunal’s rulings on Theo, and leaks wielded like hexes. Witchmark plunges you into similar intrigue: Dr. Miles Singer hides his magic inside a war-torn nation where aristocratic mages trade people’s lives for power. As Miles uncovers a conspiracy that mirrors HMRC’s darker compromises, you’ll get that same mix of elegant worldbuilding and gasp-worthy revelations that made the coven’s internal politics so addictive.

If Theo’s journey—being claimed by prophecy while some witches dispute their very identity—moved you, Cemetery Boys offers a similarly heartfelt fight for belonging. Yadriel, a trans brujo, sets out to prove himself to a tradition-bound community and accidentally summons the wrong spirit, forging bonds as stubborn and loving as Niamh, Leonie, and Elle’s. It carries the same defiant warmth you felt when parts of the coven stood up for Theo, blending tender romance, humor, and the courage to redefine what a family—and a coven—can be.

If you were drawn to the way HMRC’s oaths, tribunals, and ministerial ties force Niamh and Helena to make hard choices about what magic should do—and for whom—this will fascinate you. In Three Parts Dead, a young craftswoman-lawyer investigates a god’s mysterious death where contracts, faith, and sorcery intertwine. The casework feels like coven policy taken to its sharpest edge, asking the same questions that haunt Theo’s fate and Leonie’s activism: when power is codified, who gets protected—and who pays?

If the fierce, complicated bonds among Niamh, Leonie, Helena, and Elle—and their fight over what their coven should stand for—kept you turning pages, Harrow’s tale of the Eastwood sisters will resonate. The Once and Future Witches braids spellcraft into protest as women rebuild forbidden magic to challenge an oppressive order. It captures the same firebrand energy as Leonie’s activism and the same heartbreak of ideological rifts you felt when Helena’s hardline stance threatened everyone the coven should protect.