REBEL SONG
Author: Amanda J. Clay
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 370
Genre: YA
Caught on
opposite sides of a budding civil war, a rebel leader and a modern day princess
fight to save their country from a corrupt Minister General in a fictional Central Europe.
The once prosperous European nation of Arelanda
has been plagued with poverty and corruption since the failed rebellion tore it
apart. Now, rebels stir again in the capital’s underbelly, vowing to depose the
monarchy and overturn the unjust government.
Seventeen-year-old Rogan Elwood, son of a rebel
leader executed for treason after the first rebellion, has borne a tainted
legacy his entire life. As he is pulled deeper into conflict, Rogan must face
his calling in the future of the rebel cause—waging his want for peace against
his desire for vengeance. Everything changes when he falls for Elyra—modern,
idealistic and determined to bring Arelanda a better future. She also just
happens to be next in line to the throne—if the corrupt Minister General
doesn’t beat her to it.
Caught in the midst of a budding civil war and
surrounded by enemies on every side, Elyra and Rogan must fight to save
themselves and their country.
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book… I thought it was gripping, exciting and thoroughly enjoyable. The
romance was wonderfully played out and I loved the sparks that flew between the
two characters. I thought the world building held just enough mystery without
becoming confusing. For most of the book I felt like I was in a standard
fantasy setting yet here and there, guns and antiseptic were in use. However
this didn’t feel out of place, just rare and for those with money.
I loved the fast pace of the book and the way it
questioned the rightness of the rebellion. I thought the conflicts were well
placed and the violence just at the right pitch. I started reading in my tea
break and read all the way through lunch. I then risked motion sickness and
read on the bus home, I was that into finishing it. Unfortunately I now have to
wait for the sequel.
I would recommend this book to anyone who wants
dystopian romance with well-drawn characters.”
struggling to pull the last crab from the trap, its flailing claws scratching
and pinching for survival.
boy’s gotta eat. You’re just on the wrong end of the food chain today.” He gave
it a yank, finally prying it loose from the trap and stuffed it into his canvas
sack, suffering only a minor pinch in the process. It hadn’t been the most
lucrative day, but five crabs were better than none. Regardless, it was a
much-needed afternoon alone with the ocean to mull around in his own thoughts.
Things with The Cause were escalating
with every passing day and the peace they’d known the past few years was
teetering on a precipice of destruction.
stretched his back, stiff from hunching over the traps all afternoon. The seaside
air whipped through his shaggy hair and the salt stung at a newly acquired
scrape on his elbow, courtesy of his new mutt of a puppy. The spring air
mingled with the midday sun to send a
shimmer across the vast ocean. Resisting the urge to swim toward the horizon
and never look back, he packed his things and headed up the beach.
spare?” a small voice called up. She knelt on a tattered blanket in the sand
with a small basket beside her. Sad round eyes begged from a sunken face. Rogan
reached into his pocket and retrieved a few pounds.
her,” a husky voiced barked as Rogan moved to hand over the change. He snapped
up to see a portly city ranger fingering his black baton.
little girl,” Rogan argued.
the alleys like the rest of ‘em. We don’t need them cluttering up the beaches
too and bothering the tourists. Now, get on.”
tossing the coins her way anyway, but wasn’t particularly in the mood for a
baton to the head. He offered the child a sympathetic frown and put the pounds
back. He’d remember that face and find her again.
beach again until the sirens’ call of the water slipped under his skin. He
decided to postpone heading back in favor of a few moments of solitude on his
favorite rock point. Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he scuttled up the
rocks like he had a thousand times, settling on a smooth patch with a view that
stretched into the unknown like the vastness of dreams. To the East, the panorama stretched over the
city center with its ancient structures reaching toward the clouds. The city faded
into the lush rolling hills of Pear Valley—where
pear trees had been long replaced by vineyards. Arelanda was one of the
smallest nations in Europe, but its scenery mirrored
classical paintings. The bitter wind sliced through the air, nipping his tanned
skin, but he didn’t mind. Its bite was invigorating. The drone of bickering
salty fisherman and scampering port children faded into the deep as he watched
the waves gently lick their way up the shore, and he let himself go to another
place—away from war and death.
rippled through the air, breaking his solace. He jerked to attention and
scanned the scenes below him in the sand, seeing nothing but lapping waves and a
haggard old woman peddling hand-knit garments from a canvas tent. Then, as if
the yelp had shattered and now spilled out, faint moans crept up the rocks. His
curiosity pricked, he moved to the other side of the rock plateau, nearly
toppling over the edge when he saw a girl curled up in the sand, her hand
clutching a delicate, bone-white ankle. Thick curls of burning cinnamon fell
long and wavy around her petite shoulders, and the airy fabric of her green
dress danced around her in the wind.
He called out from his post. Her head jerked up and her eyes—so green they
penetrated the distance between them—widened with alarm. She said nothing,
staring at him like a wood deer caught in a hunter’s sight.
the rocks without responding.
called out again. When she didn’t answer again, Rogan carefully footed the
rocks and lowered himself into the sand.
speak,” the girl snapped as he approached, her body stiff and defensive. “I’m not
an animal.”
him and he stifled a snicker. The girl
lowered her head and examined her hands intently. The early spring breeze was
toying with her long sundress, blowing the soft, silky fabric—completely
inappropriate for the beach—firmly against her slight figure. Her ethereal
presence captured him in time before she felt his gaze and shot her emerald
eyes up sharply to meet his.
know it’s rude to stare?” She asked in a tone so arrogant it suggested she was
accustomed to being the most important person in the room. He hadn’t realized
he was staring and his response caught in his throat.
question,” she stated firmly. “Or perhaps you don’t hear?”
uncontrollable belly laugh. She looked about his age, but her tone suggested a
great deal more naiveté. And a lot more
spoiled.
help me, and then just stand there. Are you dumb?” She continued, clearly frustrated.
checked, but I guess it’s up for debate.” He grinned.
eyes and let out a melodramatic sigh.
alone.” She turned her head away and went back to gripping her ankle. Humid,
silent air surrounded them as he stood quietly a few yards away—not sure of
what to say—their only accompaniment the faint squawking serenade of a sea bird
perched on a light pole.
in case you were too stupid to notice,” she finally snapped, nodding toward her
swollen ankle. Rogan smirked.
and knelt beside her in the sand. Up close, he saw the evidence of tears—her
red-rimmed eyes were a sharp contrast to skin like polished marble. He fought
back every instinct that begged to trace that skin with a fingertip. As if
sensing his hidden urge, she instinctively pulled away. “Hey, don’t worry. I
don’t bite. Let me look,” he insisted.
hands aside and examined the red, swollen lump on her ankle that was quickly
darkening into a fierce shade of angry purple. She winced at his touch.
rocks?”
glanced to where the jagged mini cliff climbed into a towering peak above and
blushed.
at the distance,” she admitted with a sigh. “The view is…I never get to see the
ocean.”
little destitute,” he laughed. “The view is pretty incredible, but the rocks
are more slippery than you’d think,” he tried to console her as he examined her
injury. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’ve got anything more serious than a bad
twist. It’ll be swollen and sore for a week or so, but you’ll be fine.”
that?”
He grinned, coaxing a tiny, shy smile from her. “Can you stand?”
and she twisted her mouth in what looked like an admission of fear. Rogan gave
her a half smile.
be careful.” He reached his arms under hers and, before she could protest, he
hoisted her up. She let out an exaggerated yelp of pain and scowled.
delicate thing?” he teased to her vexation.
herself on her good ankle and tried to stand straight.
name?”
disbelieving look.
pardon, whoever-you-are, but do not think to address me so comfortably. You
don’t even know me,” she asserted, with one delicate arm now on her hip, nearly
causing her to topple over. Rogan chortled.
that even mean? You’re going to have to talk normal if you want me to
understand you.”
her eyes.
some of us prefer to speak properly.”
some of us would rather be understood.” He playfully patted her cheek. Her
cheeks filled with blood and her fists clenched. She swatted his hand away.
don’t be so serious. Never met a girl hanging out by the docks unwilling to
give out her name.”
you know, I don’t make a habit of hanging around the docks.” She pursed her quivering
lips.
need to get so worked up. Let’s try this all again, okay? I’m Rogan. You?” She glared
at him and her rosy mouth twisted into a tight, stubborn purse. “Maybe you
don’t have a name?”
eyes and unclenched her fists.
a name. I’m El. El…” she struggled with the words. “Just El.” Rogan extended
his hand in courtesy.
to make your acquaintance, Just El,” he said with exaggerated formality. If her
high dialect didn’t give it away, he would have known she was upper class
simply by the way she stared blankly at his extended hand. You weren’t supposed
to shake hands with high-born girls and they were not accustomed to anyone
breaking that practice. But after a moment, she hesitantly reached out, placed
her small hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. The feel of her warm skin pressed
against his sent a small tremor through his fingertips.
just falling off rocks all by yourself?” He asked, shaking off the energy in
his fingers.
let her eyes wander back to the water.
They keep you locked in a cage or something?” he laughed. She didn’t respond.
“Anyway, it’s not really safe to be wandering this close to the docks by
yourself.”
rolled her eyes.
huffed. “I come down here all the time.”
silken dress and shiny beaded sandals skeptically.
should get you to where you can wrap your ankle. Is there some place you’re
supposed to be?”
an apprehensive sigh. “I mean, I’m supposed to be sitting at the library
listening to a lecture, but I was so bored. I never get to come into
town. I can’t very well just sit indoors when I finally do, right? So I…stepped
out.”
rosy spheres formed on her milky white cheeks and he had to snap his eyes away
to keep from staring.
better get you back then.” He then realized they were in a secluded cove with
no way out other than up the rocks, or through the water. “Um…I’m guessing you
can’t climb on that thing, can you?” El’s face flushed and she lowered her eyes
before shaking her head. “Okay, didn’t think so. Well…” he regarded both the
rock wall and her. “I guess I’ll have to piggyback you.”
widened with horror.
want me to…to…” she pointed a finger at him. Rogan shrugged.
another way out unless you want to brave the ocean. But I warn you—that’s still
winter water out there. And the rocks right here are nasty sharp.”
to the playful waves tickling the shore then back to the steep cliff. She
sighed dramatically.
me. I didn’t push you off the wall.”
can carry me?”
light. Just make sure to hold on.”
hobbled closer. Rogan knelt down onto one knee. Gingerly, El slid her wiry arms
around his neck then eased her body up onto his back.
drawing a yelp from El, who now hung like foul in a butcher’s shop from around
his neck. Rogan choked as her arms pressed deeper into his throat.
need to wrap your legs around me to distribute your weight,” he almost laughed.
“Haven’t you ever had a piggyback ride?” He couldn’t see her face, but he was
pretty sure she scowled at the back of his head. Regardless, she slid her legs
around his middle and locked them into place. The warmth of her slender form
against his back and her breath on his neck tickled at his insides. “Good.
Okay, now hold on.”
more than his pack of crabs, so he made it up the rocks without too much
effort, despite her shrieks and excessive grip around his neck. When they
reached the cliff top, he crouched down to let El slide off, who then fell to
the ground in a pile of giggles.
definitely a first,” she laughed, releasing her breath. Her cinnamon hair, now
wind tousled, fell around her narrow shoulders in a cascade of tangles, and her
fair cheeks were rosy and wind-kissed. Rogan reached down to help her back up.
back to town. Can you make it down the rest of the way?” She nodded. He picked
up his sack of crabs and flung it over his shoulder. “Good, I have to get this
catch up to the fish market. After that I’ll take you back to the Plaza.”
the slope of the cliff toward Plaza Hiro, the heart of Arelanda
City, the nation’s vibrant capital.
The merchants, shoppers and chatty birds hummed around them with the refreshing
sounds of early springtime. As they moved farther from the beach, the scents of
salt and fish faded into the savory aromas of fresh fried breads and roasted
pig. As the first clear day since the winter blanket had lifted, the downtown market
was bursting with commerce. The occasional tourist—always identifiable by their
oversized hats, local maps and perplexed expressions—could still be spotted
roaming the ancient streets, despite the collapse of tourism in recent years.
The once prosperous and bustling small nation nestled at the southern coast of Europe’s center hadn’t been the same
since the war and the subsequent failed rebellion.
scent of fried bread swept past Rogan’s nose and he had the sudden urge to
gnash his teeth into a renowned Arelanda
City delicacy.
good,” Rogan said more to himself than his companion.
that glorious aroma?” El asked, closing her eyes and absorbing the scent. Rogan
snickered.
talk like that?” Her refined dialect was near theatrical. She answered his
question with a haughty scowl.
rude, you know.”
bread,” he ignored her insult. “C’mon, let’s get one. I’m starved.”
fried bread? Where are you from?”
Rogan asked in genuine shock, stopping to face her. Confusion twisted her
expression.
seed oil. You’ve really never had it?” he asked doubtfully. She shook her head.
lying.”
dear Just El, are in for a treat.”
the rickety bread stand draped in a coarse white canopy with a hand-painted
sign that read: “Viola’s Famous Fried
Bread. Half pound for half loaf.” El tossed a handful of coins onto the
counter.
take…whatever this will get.” Viola, with cropped black hair striped with gray
and a small puckered mouth, eyed the girl with a look of both skepticism and contempt.
Young girls in silk dresses didn’t just throw around handfuls of money at the
port.
Friend from…out of town,” Rogan nodded toward El.
saggy eyes but reached for the bread, gave each piece a thick slab of steaming
butter, and wrapped four half loaves into waxed paper. Slinging bread for thirty
years portside had given Viola very little tolerance for anyone.
unwrapping his piece when El eagerly sank her teeth into the steaming,
succulent slice of thick, buttery bread.
squealed with her mouth full of dough and lips slicked with butter. Oil dripped
down her chin. “It’s superb!”
You’ve officially tasted the most amazing thing in the world.” He helped
himself to a bite of his own. “C’mon,” he motioned her to follow as he took a
seat on the ledge of a large stone fountain carved in the likeness of a lion.
El gobbled up the first large slab as if she didn’t know when she might eat
next, which by the healthy glow of her polished skin was clearly not the case.
Rogan wrapped up the rest of his own bread and placed it in his sack, knowing
his little sister Arianna would be ecstatic over it.
snack,” he was a little embarrassed at having some girl buy him food. That
wasn’t the way he did things.
helping me with my ankle.” She smiled. “Who knows what kind of danger I would
have found otherwise?”
stood a chance.”
around here?” She asked, pulling an embroidered handkerchief from her dress
pocket and wiping the grease from her chin.
is a few miles out of the city boundaries. In Pear
Valley.”
grow grapes?” Her expression brightened. Rogan nodded.
Best in Arelanda.”
little young to run a business?” She asked skeptically, her eyes regarding his
features as if to decide if that were true. Rogan chuckled and shrugged his
shoulders.
coy way of finding out my age?”
twitched and she shrugged.
so hardly. Seventeen this summer.”
older than that,” El examined his face curiously.
older,” Rogan laughed. “But I’m getting pretty good at it. Winemaking, I mean.
Practically been at it since I could walk.”
perfectly pink lip and seemed to ponder the idea of working.
cruel and uncivilized to put children to work?” She half teased.
civilized part is up for debate, but cruel? Hardly. We don’t tolerate idleness
in the Valley. Too much to be done. What about you? Live in the city?”
to a look of contemplation like it was a trick question.
outside of the city as well. We have…a bit of land.”
Rogan perked up. Maybe they had something in common. She pursed her lips and slowly
shook her head.
offer additional explanation. Silence seized the moment and they sat awkwardly,
fumbling with the quiet.
have work to do,” Rogan finally said, realizing that as much as he didn’t want
to pull himself away from this mysterious girl, he should get going. The last
thing he needed was to be accused of corrupting some heiress. He was well aware
that unnecessary mingling of classes was always considered suspicious.
anywhere?”
with the weight of disappointment.
I’ll manage from here,” she sighed.
ankle?”
as badly as I thought it would.”
her steady herself. “It should heal up in a few weeks. Just don’t climb any
more rocks ‘til it does.”
your help, Rogan.” She tittered, looking down at her swollen ankle. “I must
seem pretty pathetic. Such a damsel in distress, eh?” She looked up at him, her
large cat eyes shimmering in the sunlight.
worse.”
her cheeks again.
She turned to walk away, but hesitated.
you,” Rogan blurted out.
place and paused for a moment before turning back with a mischievous glance. Something
teetering on dangerous swept over her eyes and she tilted her head.
“Maybe it won’t be the last time.” With that, she turned and
hobbled toward the library.
J. Clay is a writing YA and Adult fiction from Dallas, TX. A Northern California native, she had a fantastic
time studying English and Journalism at Chico State University and then a very serious
time slaving away for a Master’s degree in Communications from California State University, Fullerton. When she’s not staring at
a computer screen, she spends most of her spare time on some new fitness
addiction and plotting world adventures.
latest book is the young adult novel, Rebel
Song.
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