Defiance (Defiance Trilogy)
C. J. Redwine
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Defiance by C. J. Redwine is rich postapocalyptic YA fantasy perfect for fans of Graceling and Tamora Pierce.
While the other girls in the walled city-state of Baalboden learn to sew and dance, Rachel Adams learns to track and hunt. While they bend like reeds to the will of their male Protectors, she uses hers for sparring practice.
When Rachel's father fails to return from a courier mission and is declared dead, the city's brutal Commander assigns Rachel a new Protector: her father's apprentice, Logan—the boy she declared her love to and who turned her down two years before. Left with nothing but fierce belief in her father's survival, Rachel decides to escape and find him herself.
As Rachel and Logan battle their way through the Wasteland, stalked by a monster that can't be killed and an army of assassins out for blood, they discover romance, heartbreak, and a truth that will incite a war decades in the making.
Give me your word you’ll return what belongs to me, and I’ll let you live. Otherwise, the girl will need to be assigned another Protector while she retrieves my package for me.” He reaches out and brushes a stray drop of blood from my cheek, and I shiver. “I’m sure I can find a man willing to take her on.” “That won’t be necessary.” Logan’s voice shakes. “Your word?” “You have it.” “You may take a few days to gather your supplies and plan your trip. Notify me when you’re ready to depart. I’ll
means I’m in dire need of another subject change. “We don’t have to worry about that now,” I say. “We’ll be leaving together. Give me one week, and the tracking device will be ready. We can leave the day after the Claiming ceremony.” I ignore the way her smile lights the room, and turn toward the table. “I should get to work.” “I should get some sleep.” Her voice sounds breathless as she slips past me to head toward the loft. I sit at the kitchen table and face the tracking device, shelving
enough to avoid causing any trembles through the tons of stone and steel resting above me. Deep enough that calling the Cursed One is a real possibility. My mask lights the dirt around me a few measly feet at a time, and the air feels damp and cloying as it brushes against my skin. Every breath ignites a fierce agony around my broken rib as if I never took any pain medicine. The need for space crushes me, whispering that I’ll go crazy if I don’t get back into the open now. I ignore it. Mind
voice is harsh, but I keep staring at Quinn and Willow. “How am I supposed to keep this safe if I don’t understand it?” Melkin makes a choked noise at the back of his throat, but I don’t break eye contact with Willow. She’s going to tell me. I can see it. “Wrap it up and hide it,” she says. “Not if I don’t know what it does.” I lean past her to look Quinn in the face. “If you don’t tell me, if I don’t understand, I could trust the wrong person. Are you really okay with that?” “Are you really
prisoners in the dungeon. They won’t be able to escape without help. Can you—” He turns his donkey toward the compound without waiting to hear the rest of my sentence. “There should be a hole in the wall of the corner cell,” I yell at his retreating back. The northern roads are all impassable, so I turn the wagon and head south. The ground shakes as the Cursed One turns southwest and bellows, lashing at buildings with its tail. The streets in front of us are clogged with wagons, people on