Between Burning Worlds
(Sprache: Englisch)
Les Misérables meets The Lunar Chronicles in the out-of-this-world sequel to Sky Without Stars.
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Les Misérables meets The Lunar Chronicles in the out-of-this-world sequel to Sky Without Stars.
Klappentext zu „Between Burning Worlds “
Les Misérables meets The Lunar Chronicles in the out-of-this-world sequel to Sky Without Stars that's an "explosion of emotion, intrigue, romance, and revolution" (Stephanie Garber, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Caraval series).A traitor.
A prisoner.
A fugitive.
Wanted by the Regime. Destined to save the planet.
Laterre is on the brink of war. The Third Estate is rioting against the injustices of a corrupt system. The Patriarche, reeling from the murder of his only heir, makes brutal attempts to quash the unrest, while a new militant faction launches a series of deadly attacks.
And three outlaws find themselves pulled into the fray...
Marcellus is now a traitor to his planet, willing to do anything to stop his grandfather from seizing control of Laterre, even if it means joining the Vangarde, a rebel group back from the dead.
Chatine is a prisoner on Bastille. Desperate to survive the harsh conditions of the moon, she becomes embroiled in the Vangarde's dangerous attempt to free their infamous leader.
Alouette is a fugitive who has been lied to her entire life. Searching for the truth about her mysterious past, she soon finds herself hunted by the Regime for reasons she's only beginning to understand.
But when Laterre is threatened by the emergence of a deadly new weapon, these three renegades must risk everything, traveling to the far reaches of the System Divine and into the white hot center of a planet ready to ignite.
Lese-Probe zu „Between Burning Worlds “
Chapter 1: Marcellus - CHAPTER 1 - MARCELLUS MARCELLUS BONNEFAÇON MOVED LIKE A shadow among shadows, ducking under cables and darting around rusty cages that sat empty and gaping like sinister, hungry mouths. With every step he took through the abandoned exploit, his heart pounded harder, making him feel more and more like the traitor he had become.
The traitor his grandfather always knew he would become.
You were right, Grand-père. I am just like my father.
Rain splattered up from the puddles as Marcellus wound his way past a collapsed hoist tower that lay twisted and decaying on the uneven ground. The old copper exploit hadn't been operational in seventeen years, but it felt as if it had been deserted for centuries. It was an eerie, ominous place, with rows of abandoned shaft entrances, dark and empty like black holes in a galaxy. Two weeks ago, Marcellus might have turned around, his fear sending him scurrying back to his plush, well-lit rooms in the Grand Palais. But not now. Not with the memory of the Premier Enfant's tiny red coffin still vivid in his mind. Not with this bruise on his rib cage still tender and throbbing.
Everything was different now. His senses were sharper. Sights and sounds and smells were stronger. His eyes were wide open.
And the world had turned red.
A dark, crimson red.
The color of death. The color of rage. The color of fire.
But you were also wrong, Grand-père. I can fight back.
As Marcellus shimmied along the wall of one of the old processing plants, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the warped metal siding and nearly jumped at the sight. He barely recognized himself. The young man looking back at him was too unkempt. Too rebellious. Not the buttoned-up, obedient officer his grandfather had raised him to be over the past eighteen years.
Before leaving the Grand Palais earlier this evening, he'd washed the gel from his thick, dark hair, letting it dry tousled and wavy. He'd donned
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this stolen exploit coat and streaked mud across his cheeks and neck. It was an effective disguise. A good way to disappear. A Fret rat had once taught him that. Someone he used to know.
But he tried not to think about Chatine Renard now.
Much.
Marcellus peered up at the sky, hoping to catch a rare glimpse of the prison moon of Bastille. But of course, he saw nothing. Nothing but a dark, unfathomable abyss. The constant cloud coverage of Laterre's atmosphere made it impossible to see anything else.
There were no Sols. No moon. No light. It was a sky entirely without stars.
But Marcellus didn't need the stars or the moon to guide him tonight. He had the fire to do that. A red-hot blaze that had been lit deep inside of him. A flame that he was certain would never die.
And of course, he had his instructions. Mysterious words written on a piece of paper by an unseen hand. Words that had lured him out to an abandoned exploit in the dark hours of morning.
I will meet you at the beginning of the end.
Marcellus followed a narrow path through a cluster of buildings, passing piles and piles of debris: discarded boots, cracked helmets, decomposing jackets, and a canvas gurney streaked with blood.
Some people believed that the old copper exploit was haunted. That the ghosts of the six hundred workers who had perished in the bombing seventeen years ago still lingered here. Trapped underground forever.
Marcellus didn't want to believe that. But walking through this forsaken place, he could understand why no one ever came out here.
This was a picture stained wi
But he tried not to think about Chatine Renard now.
Much.
Marcellus peered up at the sky, hoping to catch a rare glimpse of the prison moon of Bastille. But of course, he saw nothing. Nothing but a dark, unfathomable abyss. The constant cloud coverage of Laterre's atmosphere made it impossible to see anything else.
There were no Sols. No moon. No light. It was a sky entirely without stars.
But Marcellus didn't need the stars or the moon to guide him tonight. He had the fire to do that. A red-hot blaze that had been lit deep inside of him. A flame that he was certain would never die.
And of course, he had his instructions. Mysterious words written on a piece of paper by an unseen hand. Words that had lured him out to an abandoned exploit in the dark hours of morning.
I will meet you at the beginning of the end.
Marcellus followed a narrow path through a cluster of buildings, passing piles and piles of debris: discarded boots, cracked helmets, decomposing jackets, and a canvas gurney streaked with blood.
Some people believed that the old copper exploit was haunted. That the ghosts of the six hundred workers who had perished in the bombing seventeen years ago still lingered here. Trapped underground forever.
Marcellus didn't want to believe that. But walking through this forsaken place, he could understand why no one ever came out here.
This was a picture stained wi
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Autoren-Porträt von Jessica Brody, Joanne Rendell
Jessica Brody is the author of several popular novels for teens and tweens, including The Geography of Lost Things, 52 Reasons to Hate My Father, A Week of Mondays, Better You Than Me, and the Unremembered trilogy. She lives with her husband and four dogs near Portland, Oregon. Visit her online at JessicaBrody.com. Joanne Rendell is the author of three novels and holds a PhD in English literature. She teaches fiction writing to teens and kids and is a board member for the youth Shakespeare company New Genesis Productions. With her husband and son, Joanne divides her time between New York City and New Paltz, New York. Visit Joanne at JoanneRendell.com.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autoren: Jessica Brody , Joanne Rendell
- Altersempfehlung: Ab 14 Jahre
- 2021, Reprint, 704 Seiten, Masse: 17 x 21 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Simon & Schuster US
- ISBN-10: 1534410678
- ISBN-13: 9781534410671
- Erscheinungsdatum: 16.04.2021
Sprache:
Englisch
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