Flamefall

Description

Revolutionary flames ignite around Annie, Lee, and a brand new character in the follow-up to Fireborne.

After fleeing the revolution and settling into the craggy cliffs of New Pythos, the dragonlords are eager to punish their usurpers and reclaim their city. Their first order of business was destroying the Callipolan food supply. Now they’re coming for the dragonriders.

Annie is Callipolis’s new Firstrider, charged with leading the war against New Pythos. But with unrest at home, enforcing the government’s rationing program risks turning her into public enemy number one.

Lee struggles to find his place after killing kin for a leader who betrayed him. He can support Annie and the other Guardians . . . or join the rebels who look to topple the new regime.

Griff, a lowborn dragonrider who serves New Pythos, knows he has no future. And now that Julia Stormscourge is no longer there to protect him, he is called on to sacrifice everything for the lords that oppress his people—or to forge a new path with the Callipolan Firstrider seeking his help.

With famine tearing Callipolis apart and the Pythians determined to take back what they lost, it will be up to Annie, Lee, and Griff to decide who—and what—to fight for.Praise for Flamefall:

★ “Munda balances nuanced political intrigue and subtle characterizations with thrilling scenes of battle and heartbreaking moments of love and sacrifice . . . this volume will leave readers breathless for more.” –Booklist, starred review

★ “Much like its predecessor, this second book in the “Aurelian Cycle” trilogy finds its strength in complex, compelling characters and thought-provoking socio-political intrigue. Amid the politics there are plenty of dragon battles, clandestine missions, and secret meetings to keep readers flying through the pages, ending with a nail-biting cliffhanger. Highly recommended for middle and high school readers.” —School Library Journal, starred review

“Point-of-view chapters show complexities, provoking readers to think. In addition to the central will-they, won’t-they love story, there is a lovely subplot with a same-sex, cross-class romance. Exciting aerial battles, political machinations, and a bit of romance make this hard for readers to put down.” —Kirkus

“Flamefall is the kind of book that becomes an intensified experience when you read it under the cover of a rainstorm. I was riveted from the moment I opened this book, and let me just tell you, I couldn’t imagine this story going the way that it did. It’s intricate and so incredibly well thought out. Everything feels like it’s being held back for the right moment to be revealed and when it finally is…wow. Get it on your TBR list, because you’re going to want it on your shelf!” —The Nerd Daily
 
“Flamefall, takes what worked about Fireborne and builds upon it, crafting a surprisingly thoughtful and multifaced story that provokes readers to think in ways that few other YA trilogies are even attempting at the moment… The sequel is surprisingly thoughtful about the way it discusses politics and systems of government, putting our faves at odds over multiple issues, but in ways that are easy to understand and even support. These are complex problems that don’t have easy solutions – even when you have dragons involved – and Flamefall doesn’t shy away from showing real, and often terrible consequences on both sides.” —Culturess
 
“Flamefall is so much more than just a middle book in a trilogy. This book is absolutely fantastically written and thoroughly plotted. It is riveting right from the start and keeps the reader turning pages all the way until the shocking, cliffhanger end. Riveting, atmospheric, and thought-provoking, Flamefall is a stunning YA fantasy read that will leave the reader breathless. Highly recommend for fans of Red Queen, Shatter The Sky, and Throne of Glass.” —YA Books CentralRosaria Munda grew up in rural North Carolina, studied political theory at Princeton, and lives with her husband in Chicago. She is the author of The Aurelian Cycle, a young adult trilogy that begins with Fireborne.
 Chapter One: New Pythos

GRIFF

Julia’s missing, and I’m in a terrible mood. Not improved by the weather, which is cold and damp, but in New Pythos, it’s always cold and damp. I’m gutting fish in a back room off the dragon lairs when Scully comes to find me.

“Dragonlord here to see you,” the lair- master says.

That’s the one way to make my day worse. Bran and Fionna, the other two squires on fish- gutting duty, exchange a look. We’re up to our arms in bits of fish bone and scales; the stink of the fish oil will follow us out of the lairs, and now I’m going to miss the one perk that comes with prepping dragon feed— sneaking the remains home. I rise, wiping my hands on the work rag.

Scully hates the sound of my perfect Dragontongue, which is why I always try to use it. “Which dragonlord”— I pause just long enough for him to wonder if I’ll add— “sir?”

Scully scowls. This is why he keeps putting me on fish gutting. Lip. Not to mention our clans hate each other. “The one you serve,” he says in Norish.

Most days, that would be good news. Today, I just wish it were Julia.

On the balustrade outside, Delo Skyfish waits for me.

I remember as a child being struck by the Callipolan exiles, when they arrived on New Pythos: at the ghostly pallor of the Stormscourge survivors, at the warm brown skin and tight curls of the Skyfish lords. Delo Skyfish no longer looks like the ragged urchin that washed ashore ten years ago, but he’s still striking, and at the sight of his fur cloak and freshly coiffed hair, I’m conscious of my own stinking state.

I bow low.

“Your presence is an unexpected honor, my lord.”

Delo mutters, “As you were.” I straighten; Delo is scowling at me, like he knows I’m trying to discomfort him. He’s my age, taller than I, but slenderer. “The Triarchy- in- Exile wants to speak with you.”

I hug my arms around my chest, shivering from the sea spray coming in off the water. We’re dwarfed by the cliffs above and the citadel atop them, and by the limestone pillars of karst that jut from the sea into the sky. “Did they tell you what for?”

I use the formal you, and when Delo answers, he uses the informal. When we were younger, and I was still figuring out Dragontongue, he tried to get me to use the informal, too, or speak to him in Norish, which he was learning at the same time, but I refused. In trials of will with Delo, I win.

“They want to question you about Julia,” he says. “She’s missing.”

As if I haven’t noticed.

“Why would I know where Julia is?”

Delo hesitates. “Ixion— told them.”

From the way he says it, I don’t have to ask what.

The last time I saw Julia, her lips were on mine. In the dark I could feel, not see, her smile as she bunched my shirt to raise it. She always smiles, like what we’re doing is a game, and it amuses her to win.

Ixion told them.

I’ve stopped walking, and Delo stops, too, turning back to me. His face says everything I need to know about what’s about to happen in the Glass Hall. He doesn’t say I’m sorry, and I don’t say Ixion had no right. By now, I’m no stranger to the humiliations Ixion devises.

Like being called before the Glass Hall as Julia’s peasant lover stinking of fish.

As if he’d heard me think it, Delo reaches into his satchel. “I brought you a fresh shirt.”

Most of Delo’s clothes are blue, the color of his House, but this shirt is plain, undyed— appropriate for a peasant. Even so, it’s finer than anything I’ve ever owned, and I’m likely to ruin it with muck. I pull it over my head, and when I look up, Delo’s watching me. He looks away, down. The shirt smells like him.

I follow Delo up the winding outer stairs, carved into the side of the cliff and looking out over the North Sea, that connect the lairs where I work to the citadel at the summit. Both were built by the ha’Aurelians in the original conquering, when they invaded Norcia with their dragons, subjugated my people, and renamed our island New Pythos. The dragons’ bloodlines dried up in the cold not long after, but the lords remained.

And now, for the first time in generations, they have dragons again. Twenty-five dragons, brought as eggs by the Callipolan exiles ten years ago.

Dragons for revenge.

Dragons for the exiles’ surviving sons. Dragons for the sons of the lords on whose hospitality they imposed. Titles for their children in a future, greater Callipolis.

But there weren’t enough sons. The exiled Triarchy was forced to present the remaining hatchlings to others. Female dragonborn, like Julia. Bastards, who trickled in from Callipolis’s vassal islands, once despised for their illegitimacy but now needed.

Dragons were still unclaimed.

So, with a fleet not yet filled, the dragonborn resorted to a measure few believed would work.

They had the remaining dragons presented to the sons and daughters of their Norcian serfs.

And the dragons Chose.

They call us humble-riders.CA