If you loved how Alizebeth Bequin is tugged between Eisenhorn, Ravenor, and shadow outfits like the Cognitae in the alleys of Queen Mab, you'll savor the razor-edged statecraft in The Traitor Baru Cormorant. Like the Inquisitorial cloak‑and‑dagger maneuvers that keep Bequin guessing, Baru infiltrates an empire from within—trading loyalties, weaponizing bureaucracy, and pulling off audacious gambits where every alliance has teeth. It scratches that same itch for ruthless plots, coded messages, and the dread of realizing the game is bigger than any one player.

In Pariah, Bequin’s fractured identity and the way truth slips through her grasp make every revelation hit twice—first as shock, then as doubt. Harrow the Ninth doubles down on that sensation: an amnesiac necromancer narrates a labyrinth of half-memories, redactions, and outright contradictions. If Bequin’s unreliable perspective and the sense that powerful figures are rewriting the rules around her hooked you, Harrow’s spiraling diary pages, false starts, and knife-turn twists will feel like coming home to a smarter, stranger puzzle box.

Bequin’s hunt through Queen Mab’s backstreets—assassins in the dark, psykers and nulls weaponized by unseen masters—shares a pulse with Altered Carbon. Kovacs stalks a filthy, high-tech underworld where interrogation rooms and back-alley brawls are as common as whispered contracts, and every favor stains. If the grim violence of Pariah and its willingness to make you sit with ugly choices pulled you in, this is a hard-jolt continuum of blood, consequence, and compromised souls.

The way Pariah layers the Cognitae, rival Inquisitors, and hidden cabals into a shifting, many-sided plot mirrors the intricate calculus of Ninefox Gambit. Captain Kel Cheris allies with the undead tactician Shuos Jedao, and every victory hides a trap, every order a deeper agenda—much like Bequin realizing each patron in Queen Mab is running a different game. If you loved decoding agendas and second-guessing every apparent win, this delivers scheming at war-scale with breathtaking precision.

Remember how Pariah keeps wrong-footing you—Bequin’s past not adding up, mentors revealing new faces, the late-game flips that make you reassess entire chapters? Use of Weapons is a masterclass in that feeling. Its interleaved timelines build toward a revelation that detonates the narrative in retrospect. If the jolt of Pariah’s late twists thrilled you, this one will leave you staring at the last page, reassembling every scene with new, chilling clarity.