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The Kiesha'ra: Volume Three

Written by Amelia Atwater-RhodesAuthor Alerts:  Random House will alert you to new works by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes


List Price: $7.99


On Sale: December 23, 2008
Pages: 208 | ISBN: 978-0-375-89190-8
Published by : Delacorte Press RH Childrens Books
Falcondance Cover

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Nicias has never felt completely at home among the avians and serpiente in Wyvern’s Court, despite his loyalty to Oliza Shardae Cobriana, the heir to both thrones. He is a falcon, the son of two exiles from Anhmik–and images of this distant island have always haunted his dreams. But when Nicias’s visions become more like reality, his parents have no choice but to send him back to the homeland–and a royal falcon–they’ve tried their best to forget.
If Araceli won’t bind Nicias’s newfound magic, it could destroy him. In a place where everyone is a pawn, only one other woman has the potential to save Nicias. But she holds the keys to a dangerous power struggle that will force Nicias to choose between his duty–and his destiny.

From the Hardcover edition.



My breath stilled for an instant as I watched the blade slice a hairsbreadth from the fair skin of Oliza Shardae Cobriana, nineteen-year-old princess of Wyvern's Court.

"Relax." The reassurance came from the cobra beside me, Oliza's only cousin, Salem Cobriana. "I've seen her perform this blade dance a hundred times in the nest." He shot me an amused look as he added,
"With dulled blades."

The dagger went up once more as Oliza sank to the ground, closing her eyes and bowing her head before clapping her hands behind her back to catch the weapon one final time.

Members of the audience approached the dais, where Oliza remained perfectly poised as her fans placed flowers and small gifts in front of her. This had by no means been her debut, but it had been her first time performing the jaes'falnas--the blade dances that her parents had almost forbidden her to learn.
After seeing her perform, and seeing just how sharp the performance blades were, part of me wished they had.

A serpiente dancer could, and often did, risk her life in pursuit of her trade. Oliza Shardae Cobriana, however, was not just a dancer, but heir to two thrones. Her mother, Danica Shardae, was the avian Tuuli Thea, and her father, Zane Cobriana, was Diente to the serpiente. Oliza's reign would mean the merging of two monarchies that had, until our parents' generation, been at war for thousands of years. But first Oliza had to choose her king, a decision for which all of Wyvern's Court waited anxiously, and one that had led many a young man to try to court her.

Oliza smiled at me, meeting my gaze just long enough to express her exhilaration before a petite golden-haired girl managed to slip through the crowd to stand next to me. Surprise washed over Oliza's face when she saw the unexpected guest, and she quickly came toward us.

"I can see why your parents objected to your studying these dances," Sive Shardae remarked, admiration clear in her voice despite her chastising words. "My mother would never have allowed it." Sive was three years younger than Oliza, but was the younger sister of Oliza's mother. Though still very avian in her mannerisms, she had made a point of stepping away from her avian tutors and spending more and more time with the serpiente in the past few years, learning their ways. She had not bridged the gap between the two cultures as completely as Oliza had, but that she was here at all spoke volumes. Twenty years earlier, a young avian woman would not have been permitted to walk alone through the market--much less watch the "scandalous" dances of the serpiente.

She's not quite alone, I thought as I scanned the crowd. Sive's alistair, Prentice, was standing just beyond the edge of Oliza's audience, his gaze never leaving his charge. I watched him carefully, for out of this group, he was always the most likely to cause a disturbance.

The raven had made his distrust of serpents very clear, and he became especially irritable when Sive insisted on spending time with the dancers. Serpiente hugged and flirted casually with almost everyone, but Sive's alistair bristled at having to tolerate that kind of attention being paid to his pair bond.
Salem, leaving on his way back to the dancers' nest, greeted the raven politely. Prentice nodded curtly at the serpiente. He had argued with Salem in the past, but that day they managed to walk by each other without raised voices.

Progress, at least.

"Ridiculous," Oliza said to Sive, oblivious to the frosty moment between the two men. "No one has died performing a blade dance in sixty years."

Sive looked at me as if seeking reason, before realizing that Oliza was teasing her. Sive's scandalized expression made her appear even younger than her seventeen years.

It made me think back to when I had been a child and my parents had first brought me to see Wyvern's Court. I remembered the day fifteen years before as vividly as if it was playing before me that moment.

I stood beside my parents, trying to mimic their careful attention as they watched Oliza and her family. My mother, Kel Silvermead, was captain of the Royal Flight, one of the elite guards who protected Oliza's mother, the Tuuli Thea; my father was her second-in-command. Their attention never strayed from their charges, but mine shifted momentarily to the rolling hills and gentle valley where architects had been laboring for years.

Oliza's grandmother, Nacola Shardae, was there, with a nurse next to her holding the sleepy infant Sive. Salem, exactly twenty months older than Oliza, suddenly pulled away from his mother and father to whisper something in the princess's ear.

Without warning, both royal children took off down the hill. Adults tried to follow, but Oliza and Salem thought it was a great game to hide in the empty market stalls from their parents and guards, deaf to all the worried shouts.

Oliza touched my arm, startling me from my memories.

"You look skies away," she said softly. I realized suddenly that the crowd had dispersed.

"I was thinking about our first day here," I said, though I knew that wasn't enough of an explanation. It
was not my habit to let my mind wander--not when I was with Oliza. I looked around uneasily and tried to
account for the missing minutes.

"I hardly remember it," Oliza admitted, not noticing my disquiet as she led us from the market. This was
our ritual; we walked and talked until we reached the woods, and then, beyond the edges of the court,
we changed shape and spread wing. "We were so young. I just remember you finding me, after I got lost
in the woods. No matter what kind of trouble I got into, it seemed you were always there."

From the Hardcover edition.
Amelia Atwater-Rhodes|Author Q&A

About Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

Amelia Atwater-Rhodes - Falcondance

Photo © Jean Renard

Have you ever run into a teacher at the movie theater? It seems odd, surreal. You know perfectly well your teacher has an existence outside the classroom, but at the same time, it’s so far beyond your ken that experiencing it is almost unreal. Now imagine being the teacher. It’s like being an imaginary person, who has just accidentally walked into the room.

One of the strangest results of having your name on a book jacket is the proliferation of people who know one narrow aspect of your life, and are suddenly surprised to learn there’s more.

For example, last spring, I dressed up as an evil mushroom for a day while attending Anime Boston with my writing group. The day before that, I was Zexion; I still have a short video of myself and my friends, dressed in those costumes, performing the kitty-cat dance in the Prudential lobby. The day before that, I was some character whose name I can’t pronounce with pink hair. It had something to do with bread. I don’t really know, despite my friends’ attempts to prepare me. I hugged a lot of random strangers that day, because apparently when you’re dressed as a beloved character with pink hair, people like to hug you. Thankfully, I’m less Goth than my sometimes-reputation would predict, so I can be Zen about these things.

I was asked to write about “something people don't know about you,” and there it is in a nutshell: I get lumped in with dark fiction, but I have a great capacity for the absurd. I love to laugh.

When I was fourteen, I was one of those kids who wore all black because it matched everything. Seriously. We all say that, but for me it was true; my older sister made such fun of my color-coordination I was paranoid to even wear blue jeans with a colored top for a long time. We're all crazy in middle school, right? Well, I picked up a reputation as a Goth at that point, but it was never a very accurate image.

The truth is, I like to engage with life fully. Given an opportunity to do something I don’t often get a chance to do, I feel the need to try it, even if I suspect I’ll make a fool out of myself. I have swung on a flying trapeze, explored a glacier, and been hit in the face by a shark's tail while scuba diving. I like to throw myself fully into projects and adventures, which is probably how I managed to publish a book in the first place.

At the end of the day, I have this whole life, but what I’ve given to my readers is a name on a book jacket, a paragraph-long author biography, and a story to read that I hope will inspire or at least entertain. This is why I like to introduce myself to my readers, and say to them, “Hey, I’m a real person. I’m not some mythological writing creature. I’m just like you. I don’t have anything you don’t have. Anything I can do, you can do.”

Author Q&A

A Conversation with Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

Q: When did you start writing?
I have always loved to create stories. My earliest tales were told to family members before I knew how to write. I started my first “novel” in first grade, handwriting it in a pink diary with hearts or something on the cover. Some well-meaning relative gave the diary to me, probably without ever guessing that it would become the home of a science fiction novel about the intergalactic origins of the cats that were worshipped in ancient Egypt.
My imagination has always been my driving characteristic. After the pink diary story, in second grade I tried to cowrite a novel called The Hope to Get Out with my best friend. Shortly after, my father allowed me the use of his computer and I began a story about people who lived on rafts . . . which I later lost because I password-protected it and while I remembered the password was dragon, my spelling was so bad I couldn’t figure out how I had spelled it. Years later, in the summer after fifth grade, I started Red Moon, a story mostly about my friends (with a vampire thrown in for fun) that became my first finished novel, my introduction to Nyeusigrube, and the springboard for all the writing I have done since.

Q: What made you want to be a writer?
I get this question all the time, and I point out that I have always been a writer in that I have always loved to write. The only decision I had the chance to make was whether or not I would submit a manuscript for publication. What made me want to be a published writer was a friend of mine who hated reading.
She usually took months to finish (or put down and not finish) even a short book. One day she asked to read one of mine, because she felt left out that I had shared it with all my other friends and not her. I gave her a manuscript, never expecting that she would read it–and she gave it back to me the next day, and asked me where the next one was.
That was when I decided that maybe my work was good enough to try publishing. I write because I love to write; I tell the stories for myself, because I want to know how they go. I publish for the people who, like that friend of mine, wrote to me later on to say “Your works inspired me.”

Q: How has publishing at such an early age changed your life?
Again, I am asked this question frequently, but it always seems a little strange to me. I signed my first contract when I was in eighth grade. How do the lives of most people change between eighth grade and the middle of college? I’m not sure.
If I had never published a novel, would I still be interested in my childhood dream of becoming a teacher? Or maybe I would have gone with my other dream to become a veterinarian. Who knows?
Writing has had a huge impact on my life, but so much has changed in the last several years that it is impossible to pinpoint how much of it was due to publishing, and how much was due to simply growing up. . . .

Q: Where do you get the inspiration for your characters and stories?
My inspiration comes from everywhere, everything, and everyone. I am the type of person who cannot help eavesdropping on conversations in public locations. When I see someone interesting on the subway, habit will make me describe him in my head as I might in a book, and move on from there to create a story about him. This is how I pass the time. Sometimes these little vignettes inspire moments or characters in a novel.
Sometimes all they inspire is the color of Risika’s eyes or Ravyn’s hair–both taken from people I saw but never even spoke to. Sometimes inspiration comes from within another story I am writing. A minor character will say or do something that makes me want to know more. Finally, much of my stories and characters simply appear, without any source I could ever recognize or possibly explain.

Q: Are any of your characters based on real people?
Beyond bits and pieces stolen from casual meetings with strangers, very few of my characters are inspired by real people. I could never take a real person and fit him into a book just for the sake of having him in there. However, occasionally someone I know will be perfect for a certain role. In that case, I may borrow a real person for inside the pages of a story.

Q: What is your writing process like?
Though I certainly spend time on my computer almost every day, I do not write every day, or on any fixed schedule. I write when I have an idea. In the meantime, I often complain that I’m not writing, check message boards, chat with people, update my Web site, or do research–all of which I immediately drop if an idea swirls to the surface of my thoughts. I have been known to go a week without writing anything substantive. I have also had days where I wake up early and write late into the night, churning out several chapters at a time before either inspiration runs dry or I drop from exhaustion.
I prefer to write at my computer, in my office, with music playing and my cockatiel, Thief, on my shoulder. However, if I have an idea, I will write on any surface I can take with me, with anything I can find. I try to keep a notebook with me at all times for just this reason, but I have been known to walk out of a movie theater with writing down my arm, or to jot notes down on scraps of newspaper, napkins, receipts, or once even a gum wrapper. I keep a digital recorder in my car for when I am driving, and have been known to dictate random strings of letters (my own shorthand) to passengers if I am driving someone else. In the absolute worst case, when I have nothing to write on or have my hands full (often driving), I’ll create odd memory devices to help me recall what the idea was.
Basically, I write anywhere at any time with any tools available to me, if I have an idea. With no idea, I will not write even in otherwise perfect conditions.

Q: Do you ever get writer’s block? How do you deal with it?
There are two kinds of writer’s block: lack of ideas and lack of inspiration.
The first kind occurs most often when I write myself into a corner. Sometimes this occurs during a single scene, most often an argument, where two characters simply take control and before I know it I have no idea how to bring them back to the plot. Since I do not outline before I write, sometimes I will realize abruptly that my character seems to be in a situation with no way out.
This kind of writer’s block I absolutely love. I complain about it all the time, to anyone who will listen, but frankly, I love pulling at the threads of a story to figure out what needs to happen next. Though it can be terribly frustrating to feel driven to write without knowing what to write, I still enjoy those moments.
When this occurs, I deal with it in a few different ways. Sometimes I skip the difficult scene entirely and work on something else, often something that occurs later, which may help me figure out what needed to occur in the middle. Sometimes I rewrite scenes from other points of view, hoping another character may notice or say something helpful to me. Quite often, I complain loudly to anyone who will listen, and give people scenarios and ask for suggestions (after which I usually pretty much ignore their suggestions). Rarely, I have to delete a few lines or even a few scenes–something I find very painful.
The other kind of writer’s block, lack of inspiration, is more devastating. What do you do when you simply can’t get your head into a story that you want to finish someday?
If I’m desperate and I absolutely need to finish the work, I change music (I always listen to music when I write), and I reread. I share the work with people I trust to get feedback However, most of the time if I’m not inspired, I put the book aside and work on one of the other forty-some stories I have in progress. If I don’t feel like working on any of them, either . . . I take a break. I let my wrists relax, and I read a book (or sometimes a whole series), and I go out to movies and Rollerblade and volunteer and play piano and study programming and build walls and garden and drive to Maine–and do the things that people do when they are not at work.

Q: Do you have any advice for young writers?
My advice for young writers rests on one simple command: Do it. This is my advice to anyone, young or old, who wants to get anything done: Do it. If you never start, you’ll never get anywhere.
I talk to people all the time who say, “I love to write, but I’m no good at it.” Writing is like any art and any skill. It takes practice. Lessons help. English classes (not just the creative writing ones), writing workshops, and reading groups are all valuable to a growing writer. But the primary element is practice.

Discussion Questions

Discussion Guides

1. In Falcondance, the avians and serpiente in Wyvern’s Court struggle to live peacefully together. Why are they mistrustful of each other? How do they feel about the falcons? What are the differences and similarities between these groups? Do you think the tension between them is a form of prejudice? How do you see the shapeshifters’ conflict as relating to the world in which we live?

2. What do Nicias and Oliza have in common? Why will Nicias always be her friend, and not a suitor? Have you ever felt like an outsider? What were the circumstances?

3. Nicias’s parents are very concerned when he discovers his magic (page 23). What do they see as the dangers if Nicias goes to the falcon island of Ahnmik? What is the alternative? Why does Nicias find it so difficult to keep his father’s warnings in mind once he leaves?

4. What does Nicias immediately dislike about Ahnmik when he arrives? What does he find appealing? How does Araceli convince Nicias not to have his power bound right away in chapter six? Why is flying so important to Nicias? Is he foolish to try to look at life on Ahnmik with an “open mind” (page 61)?

5. Araceli tells Nicias that his mother committed a crime when she fled from Ahnmik (page 59). Were Nicias’s parents as irresponsible as he fears (page 90)? Why did Kel really leave? Do you think Nicias respects their decision by the end? What role did the falcons play in creating the war between the avians and the serpiente? Can you think of events in our own world history in which fear has led to violence?

6. Should Nicias have tried to confront Araceli right away as Darien wants him to in chapter thirteen? What makes him return to Ahnmik later on? Cjarsa asks Nicias to understand the “necessity of what was done” (page 173) to the avians and the serpiente. Do you think the ends justify the means? How much or little should Nicias tell Oliza about what he learned on Ahnmik? What would you do if you were Oliza?

7. When Lily says she has sworn her loyalty to the white Lady (page 81), who is she referring to? Why does Nicias initially trust Araceli and Lily more than Darien? How does seeing his mother’s possessions in chapter twelve change Nicias’s mind about Darien? How does this serve Syfka’s interests?

8. Darien warns Nicias that “everyone on this island is a pawn” (page 83). What does Darien want from Nicias? How does that differ from what Lily wants? What about Araceli? What are some of the many ways in which Lily and Araceli manipulated him during his stay? Do you think Lily’s feelings for Nicias were “all an act” (page 113)?

9. Why is Nicias drawn to Hai (page 66)? What makes him try to save her? How does he escape from Ecl, the void, in chapter thirteen? Do you trust Hai? Should he have woken her? Why or why not?

10. Duty, loyalty, and honor are important themes in this book. In what ways does Nicias act (or not act) honorably during the story? Who else in this book adheres to these values? Have you ever felt torn between your loyalty or responsibility to different people? Why does Nicias, ultimately, feel more connected to the people of Wyvern’s Court than to the falcons?

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