Rebel Spring: A Falling Kingdoms Novel - Hardcover

Rhodes, Morgan

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 1595145931 ISBN 13: 9781595145932

Publisher: Razorbill, 2013

Synopsis

War brought them together. Love will tear them apart.

Auranos has been conquered and the three kingdoms—Auranos, Limeros, and Paelsia—are now unwillingly united as one country called Mytica. But alluring, dangerous magic still beckons, and with it the chance to rule not just Mytica, but the world. . . .

• CLEO is now a prisoner in her own palace, forced to be an ambassador for Mytica as the evil King Gaius lies to her people
• MAGNUS stands to eventually inherit the new kingdom but is still obsessed with his feelings for his adopted sister, Lucia
• LUCIA is haunted by the deadly outcome of her breathtaking display of magic that allowed her father to capture the kingdoms
• JONAS watches at the palace gates, a troop of rebels behind him, waiting for him to tell them how he plans to overtake King Gaius

When Gaius announces that a road is to be built into the Forbidden Mountains, formally linking all of Mytica together, he sets off a chain of cataclysmic events that will forever change the face of this land.

Praise for Falling Kingdoms

“From an opening dripping with blood, magic, and betrayal through complex interweaving plots detailing treachery, deceit, and forbidden love, this novel . . . will immediately engage readers and keep them intrigued.”—Booklist
“[It] will gut you emotionally . . . make you ache, cry, and beg for the sequel as you turn the last page. I absolutely loved it.”—Julie Kagawa, New York Times bestselling author of The Iron Queen

“This triple-layered tale of bloodshed, heartbreak, and tangled court intrigue kept me turning pages very late into the night.”—Lesley Livingston, author of Wondrous Strange and Starling
Richelle Mead, bestselling author of the Vampire Academy and Bloodlines series, sits down with Morgan Rhodes to talk about Rebel Spring, the much-anticipated second book in her bestselling Falling Kingdoms series.

Richelle Mead: Morgan Rhodes (aka Michelle Rowen) has been my friend for a number of years. We've hung out together at conferences and swooned over each other's books. When she was able to work on Vampire Academy: The Ultimate Guide, I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have someone who was already a fan of the VA world and whose writing I personally loved. I'm just as excited about her Falling Kingdoms series and couldn't resist this chance to ask her some questions about Rebel Spring, the next book in the series!

Morgan Rhodes: I was thrilled for the chance to write the VA Ultimate Guide! I remember Richelle telling me there were plans for the book and I piped up with: “I totally want to write that!” And what fun it was to delve back into a series that I loved (and am still in love with thanks to the wonderful Bloodlines spinoff). I’m counting down the days for the VA movie! Richelle is not only a friend, but one of my very favorite authors, so it’s a real honor to be interviewed by her about Rebel Spring.

RM: So without further ado, let’s start talking about the new book. The world of Falling Kingdoms is so vivid and detail-rich. When it comes to world-building for these novels, where do you get your inspiration?

MR: I get my inspiration from pretty much everywhere, although I’m visually inspired by some of my favorite TV shows and movies, which run the gamut from Lord of the Rings to The Princess Bride to Game of Thrones, to name just a few.

RM: At the end of Falling Kingdoms, things are looking pretty bleak in Mytica. Is it fair to say that Rebel Spring will be quite a bit darker than book 1?

MR: The stakes have been raised and sharpened, for sure. Blood will spill and lives will be lost. But I don’t think I would ever want to write a book that was unrelentingly bleak from beginning to end. I can promise that Rebel Spring contains plenty of comic relief and romance to counterbalance the darker bits.

RM: The Falling Kingdoms books are written from multiple POVs, and each of your narrators has such a unique voice and perspective. How does your experience vary from POV to POV? Are there some characters that are more difficult than others? Do you have a favorite?

MR: It’s been a wonderful and exciting challenge to write in multiple points of view from my diverse cast. I will admit, some POVs are always a joy to write and others prove to be a challenge. I try to put myself in the head of that character and see the world from their eyes, no matter who they are or what their goals are. I get into the heads of a couple different characters in Rebel Spring, including a villain who definitely sees things from a darker angle than anything I’ve written before – which was fun. The characters whose scenes I most look forward to writing since they are very specific personalities and basically take over and make things easier for me are Cleo and Magnus. They tend to surprise me while the other characters usually stick to the outline!

RM: Let’s talk body count. You’re very good at making me fall in love with your characters, but you’re also very good at killing them off when I least expect it. How do you decide the who, how, when, and why when it comes to killing off your characters?

MR: I never knew how much I enjoyed killing characters until I started writing this series. *evil grin* However! I like to think those who get the ax (sometimes, um, literally) are necessary deaths. It’s all for a purpose, to change another character in the face of their shock and grief, to lead them down a path they never would have taken before, and to spark a desire for revolution and vengeance in the hearts of those who might previously have been passive and peaceful. Plus, I always think when things seem a bit too ideal and characters are getting too comfortable, it’s a good time to get a few heads rolling to keep things interesting for readers – and for me as the writer!

RM: What’s going on with Magnus? He seems like kind of a jerk in Falling Kingdoms, but I get the sense he’s got a soft spot.

MR: With a father like King Gaius, whose nickname is the “King of Blood,” it would be pretty hard for a prince to grow up as a nice dude with a sunny disposition! Magnus really came alive on the page for me, more so than any other character in the cast. Initially, he was supposed to be a jerk through and through, but he’s really more of a lost soul whose entire life has been devoted to attempting to gain his cruel and driven father’s love and respect. However, Magnus has begun to learn that he might have a different set of morals than the king, even though he knows following in Daddy’s footsteps would make life easier for him. This isn’t to say that Magnus hasn’t made (and will make) some rather dreadful decisions that will certainly cast a shadow over his future relationships and experiences.

RM: Jonas has a lot of axes to grind by the end of book 1. What can we expect from him in Rebel Spring?

MR: I think the main thing with Jonas is that beneath his thirst for vengeance (focused on both the murderer of his brother Aron and King Gaius) is that he really does mean well. He cares about the people of downtrodden Paelsia, and he’s someone, unlike his fellow countrymen, who doesn’t believe his future is ruled by uncontrollable fate. In Rebel Spring, Jonas has been thrust into the position of rebel leader, which will be a challenge for him on many levels.

RM: Okay, ultimate personality test: Are you a Cleo or a Lucia?

MR: Both are princesses from vastly different kingdoms and upbringings – Cleo is a girl who has favored parties and frivolity in the past, while Lucia prefers learning and solitude. Cleo is stubborn and sometimes reckless, and Lucia is more measured and controlled, but may be considered naļve in many ways. I wouldn’t say I’m much like either princess, really, although I am blond like Cleo and I love books like Lucia. :)

RM: Lastly, can you talk a little bit about your writing process? 

MR: It would be next to impossible to undertake a large tapestry of a series like Falling Kingdoms if I didn’t plan a lot of it ahead of time. I work from a detailed outline and map out character goals and conflicts and relationship arcs, but I’m still surprised by some of the things my characters say and do that can take me in a direction different from what was meticulously planned. So far, it’s been a lot of fun to explore these unexpected paths to see where they lead.

About this title

About the Author:

Morgan Rhodes is the New York Times bestselling author of the Falling Kingdoms series. Under another pen name, she's an award winning author of more than two dozen novels. Morgan lives in Southern Ontario, where she’s currently hard at work on the next Falling Kingdoms book.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof.***

Copyright © 2013 by Morgan Rhodes

PROLOGUE

 

Death cast a long shadow across the barren miles of Paelsia. The news of Chief Basilius’s murder spread swiftly, and vil­lages throughout the land fell into a deep mourning. They grieved a great man—a sorcerer who could touch magic and whom many in this land with no official religion thought of as a living god.

“What will we do without him?” was a constant cry in the days and weeks that followed. “We are lost!”

“Honestly,” Lysandra grumbled to her older brother, Gregor, as they snuck out of their family’s cottage at twilight. “He never showed any true magic. It was all just talk! It’s like they forget he taxed us all to death. The chief was a liar and a thief who lived high and mighty at his compound, sucking back wine and food while the rest of us starved!”

“Hush,” Gregor warned, but he was laughing. “You speak your mind far too much, “I can handle trouble.” Lysandra aimed her arrow at the target on a tree twenty paces away and let go. She hit the very center. Pride warmed her on this cool evening and she glanced at her brother for his reaction.

“Nice shot.” His grin widened and he nudged her aside to take his turn. “However, this will be nicer.”

Easily, he split her arrow in two. She couldn’t help but be im­pressed. They’d been practicing like this for months in secret. She’d had to beg her brother to share his knowledge of archery, but he finally relented. It was unusual for a girl to be taught how to use weapons. Most believed girls were meant to cook and clean and look after the men.

Which was ridiculous. Especially since Lysandra was a natural at this.

“Do you think they’ll be back?” she asked Gregor quietly, scan­ning the small village nearby, the thatched roofs, the mud and stone exteriors. Smoke wafted from the chimneys of many of the small homes.

His jaw tensed. “I don’t know.”

A week ago, important-looking representatives of the con­queror, King Gaius, visited their village, asking for volunteers to go east and begin work on a road the king wanted quickly built, one that would snake not only through Paelsia, but through the neighboring lands of Auranos and Limeros as well.

Gregor and their father had been chosen to greet the men, and the pair had stood up to the bright smiles and smooth words without allowing themselves to be intimidated or swayed. The vil­lage had declined the offer.

The King of Blood thought he now ruled them. But he was sorely mistaken. They might be poor, but they were proud. No one

had the right to tell them what to do.

King Gaius’s men had left without argument.

“Idiot Basilius,” Lysandra mumbled. “He may have trusted the king, but we’re smart enough not to. Basilius deserved to be skew­ered. It was only a matter of time. Makes me sick to my stomach that he’d be such a fool.” Her next arrow flew off course. She needed to work harder on her concentration. “Tell me more about the rebels who plan to stand up against the king.”

“Why do you want to know? Do you want to be the one of the few girls to join their ranks?”

“Maybe I do.”

“Come, little Lys.” Gregor laughed and grabbed her wrist. “There have to be a few rabbits we can find to practice your aim on next. Why waste arrows on trees and breath on silly words? Don’t worry about the rebels. If anyone will soon be joining them in their fight against the king, it’ll be me.”

“Not silly,” she mumbled.

But he did have a point—at least when it came to their target practice. The trees were scarce here anyway. Most of the area was brown and dry with a few small greener areas in which her mother and other women tended vegetable gardens that, each year, yielded fewer and fewer vegetables, but many tears. Her mother had not stopped crying since she’d heard of Basilius’s death.

It wrenched Lysandra’s heart to see her mother so upset, so inconsolable, but she tried to reason with her. “I believe we make our own destinies, every last one of us,” she’d told her mother last night. “Who leads us makes no difference.”

This was met with a sad, weary look of patience. “You’re so naive, daughter. I pray it won’t lead you astray.”

And now her mother prayed to the dead chief about her rule-breaking daughter. This wasn’t unexpected. Lysandra had always caused her mother grief by not being an acceptable daughter who did acceptable things. Lysandra was accustomed to not fitting in with her friends, who couldn’t understand her fascination with making arrows until she got blisters on her fingers or staying outside until her nose burned so red it practically glowed in the dark.

Gregor put his arm out to halt Lysandra’s steps.

“What?” she asked.

“Look.”

They were less than a mile from the village. Before them was a small clearing, barren of any vegetation at all. It was surrounded by dry bushes and leafless trees. An old woman, one Lysandra rec­ognized as Talia, the eldest in their village, stood in the middle of the clearing. The carcass of a red fox lay in front of her. The woman had drained the blood from the animal into a wooden cup. With this blood, she drew symbols on the parched, cracked earth with the tip of her finger.

Lysandra had never seen anything like it in her life. “What’s Talia doing? What’s she drawing?”

“Four symbols,” Gregor said, his voice hushed. “Do you know what they are?”

“No, what?”

“The symbols are of the elements: fire, air, water, and earth.” He pointed to each in turn, a triangle, a spiral, two stacked wavy lines, and a circle within a circle. His throat worked as he swal­lowed hard. “I had no idea. Our village elder . . . she’s a witch. An Oldling.”

“Wait. You’re saying that old, simple-minded Talia’s a . . . witch?”

She waited for him to start grinning and tell her he was just jok­ing. But he was serious—deadly serious.

Gregor’s brows drew together. “I had my suspicions, but this is the proof. She’s kept her secret well over all the years. You know what can happen to witches.”

In the neighboring kingdom of Limeros they were burned. Hanged. Beheaded. Witches were considered evil, even here in Paelsia. Bad luck. A curse upon this land making it wither away and die. In Limeros, many believed that such witches were what had cursed that land to turn to ice.

Lysandra remembered Talia’s unusual reaction when she’d learned the chief had been murdered by King Gaius. She’d nodded once, grimly, brushed off her dusty skirts, and said four words:

“And so it begins.”

Everyone thought the old woman was mad so they paid no attention to her ramblings, but for some reason those words had resonated with Lysandra and sent a chill down her spine.

“So what begins?” She’d caught the old woman’s arm. “What do you mean?”

Talia had turned her pale, watery eyes on Lysandra. “The end, my dear girl. The end begins.”

It took a moment for Lysandra to speak again to Gregor, her heart pounding loud in her ears. “What do you mean by Old-ling?”

“It’s one who worships the elements. It’s an old religion— older than anything except elementia itself. And by the looks of this,” he nodded toward the clearing, “Talia is working blood magic tonight.”

A shiver went down Lysandra’s spine. Blood magic.

She’d heard of such things before, but had never seen any proof until now. Gregor had always been more of a believer than she in that which was unseen and rarely spoken about—magic, witches, legends. Lysandra barely listened to the storytellers, interested more in tangible facts that whimsical tales. Now, she wished she’d paid more attention

“For what purpose?” she asked.

Just then, Talia’s eyes shot directly at the two of them, hawk­like, picking them out in the dying light of dusk.

“It’s too late,” she said loud enough for them to hear her. “I can’t summon enough magic to protect us, only to see the shadows of what is to come. I’m powerless to stop them.”

“Talia!” Lysandra’s voice was uncertain as she called out to the woman. “What are you doing? Come away from there, it’s not right.”

“You must do something for me, Lysandra Barbas.”

Lysandra glanced at Gregor, puzzled, before looking back at Talia. “What do you want me to do?”

Talia held her blood covered hands out to either side of her, her eyes growing wider and wider as if she saw something horrifying all around her. Something truly evil. “Run!”

At that moment, a huge flaming arrow arched through the air and hit Talia directly in the center of her chest. She staggered backward and fell to the ground, her clothes catching fire quicker than Lysandra could comprehend.

Lysandra gripped Gregor’s arm. “She’s dead!”

He craned his head urgently to look back in the direction the arrow had come from, then yanked Lysandra to the side to avoid another arrow aimed directly at them that instead sliced into a tree trunk. “I was afraid of this.”

“Afraid of what?” Lysandra spotted a figure fifty paces away, armed with a crossbow. “He killed her! Gregor—he killed her! Who is he?”

The figure had spotted then and had begun to give chase. Gregor swore loudly and took hold of her wrist. “Come on, we need to hurry!”

She didn’t argue. Clutching each other’s hands, they ran back to the village as fast as they could.

It was on fire.

Chaos had swiftly descended upon the village. Horrified screams of fear and pain pierced the air—screams of the dying. Scores of men in red uniforms astride horses galloped through the streets, holding torches that they used ruthlessly to set each cot­tage ablaze. Townspeople ran from their burning homes, trying to escape a fiery death. The sharp swords in other guards’ hands fell upon many, slicing through flesh and bone.

“Gregor!” Lysandra cried as they came to a wrenching halt, hid­den from the soldiers behind a stone cottage. “King Gaius—this is his doing! He’s killing everyone!”

“We told him no. He didn’t like that answer.” He turned and took her by her arms, staring fiercely into her eyes. “Lysandra. Little sister. You need to go. You need to run far away from here.”

The fire heated the air, turning dusk to nightmarish daylight all around her. “What are you talking about? I can’t go!”

“Lys—”

“I need to find our mother!” She shoved away from Gregor and raced through the village, dodging any obstacle in her path. She staggered to a halt outside of her cottage, now engulfed in flame.

Her mother’s body lay halfway across the threshold. Her father’s body was only ten paces away, lying in a pool of blood.

Before she could fully register the horror, Gregor caught up.

He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, running beyond the village limits before dropping her clumsily to the ground. He tossed her bow and a handful of arrows at her.

“They’re dead,” she whispered. Her heart felt like a stone that had dropped into her stomach.

“I was watching and listening as I ran. The king’s guards are gathering any survivors up and they will make them work the road.” His voice broke. “I must go back to help the others. Go— find the rebels. Do what you can to stop this from happening any­where else, Lys. Do you understand me?”

She shook her head, her eyes burning from the smoke and from hateful tears. “No, I won’t leave you! You’re all I have left!”

Gregor took her chin sharply in his hand. “Follow me,” he growled, “and I’ll put an arrow through your heart myself to save you from whatever fate now lies before our friends and neigh­bors.”

It was the last he said before he turned and ran back to the village.

And all she could do was watch him go.

 

CHAPTER 1

 

JONAS

 

AURANOS

 

When the King of Blood wanted to make a point, he made it as sharp as possible.

It was midday. With bone-chilling thuds, the executioner’s ax fell upon the necks of three accused rebels, severing their heads from their bodies. The blood dripped through the stocks and spread across the smooth stone ground before a swelling crowd a thousand deep. And all Jonas could do was watch in horror as the heads were then mounted upon tall spikes in the palace square for all to see.

Three boys who’d barely reached manhood, now dead for being menaces and troublemakers. The severed heads stared at the crowd with blank eyes and slack expressions. Crimson blood trickled down the wooden spikes while the bodies were taken away to be burned.

The king who had quickly and brutally conquered this land did not give second chances—especially not to anyone who publicly opposed him. Rebellion would be dealt with swiftly and remorse­lessly—and publicly.

With each deadly fall of the blade, a growing uneasiness slith­ered through the masses like a heavy mist they could no longer ignore. Auranos had once been free and prosperous and at peace— but now someone with a taste for blood was seated upon the throne.

The crowd stood shoulder to shoulder in the large square. Close by, Jonas could see young nobles, well dressed with tense jaws and wary expressions. Two fat, drunk men clinking their wine-filled goblets together as if toasting to a day filled with pos­sibility. An old, gray-haired woman with a deeply lined face and a fine silk dress, her gaze darting around suspiciously. All were clambering for the best spot to see the king when he entered onto the marble balcony high above. The air was scented with smoke from both chimneys and cigarillos and with the aromas of baking bread, roasting meat, and the fragrant oils and cloyingly floral per­fumes liberally used by many in lieu of bathing regularly. And the noise—a cacophony of voices, both conspiratorial whispers and deep-throated shouts—made it impossible to think clearly.

The Auranian palace glittered before them like a massive golden crown, its spires rising high up into the cloudless blue sky. It was set in the direct center of the City of Gold, a walled city two miles wide and deep. The walls themselves were heavily veined in gold, which caught the sunlight and reflected it like a pile of gold coins in the center of acres of green. Inside, cobbled roads led to villas, businesses, taverns, and shops. Only the privileged and important were able to make this city their home. But today, the gates had opened to all who wished to hear the king’s speech.

“This place is impressive.” Brion’s voice was hard to hear above the incessant chatter of the throng.

“You think?” Jonas shifted his grim attention from the impaled heads. His friend’s dark blue eyes were fixed upon the glittering palace as if it were something he could steal and sell for profit.

“I could get used to living here. A roof over my head—golden tiles at my pampered feet. All the food and drink I can swallow. Sign me up.” He looked up at the executed rebels and grimaced. “You know, providing I keep my head attached.”

The rebels who’d been executed today had been Auranian and not a part of Jonas and Brion’s group—a gathering of young, like-minded boys who wished to rise up against King Gaius in the name o...

About this edition

• Publisher: Razorbill
• Publication date: 2013
• ISBN 10: 1595145931
• ISBN 13: 9781595145932
• Binding: Hardcover
• Number of pages: 416