Annie and Lee were just children when a brutal revolution changed their world, giving everyone—even the lowborn—a chance to test into the governing class of dragonriders.

Now they are both rising stars in the new regime, despite backgrounds that couldn’t be more different. Annie’s lowborn family was executed by dragonfire, while Lee’s aristocratic family was murdered by revolutionaries. Growing up in the same orphanage forged their friendship, and seven years of training have made them rivals for the top position in the dragonriding fleet.

But everything changes when survivors from the old regime surface, bent on reclaiming the city.

With war on the horizon and his relationship with Annie changing fast, Lee must choose to kill the only family he has left or to betray everything he’s come to believe in. And Annie must decide whether to protect the boy she loves ... or step up to be the champion her city needs.

Confession: I am an overly empathic reader who loudly vocalizes—without regard for appropriateness—what I feel while reading. By that same token, the time I spend with a book is precious. When I first began Fireborne, I was immediately captivated by a world of dragons—but I also hoped I might find something more, something closer to the world we live in and the questions you and I face in our own dragon-less lives. Spoiler alert: I did.

Fireborne tells the story of Lee and Annie, two dragon-riding orphans on a quest to become “Firstrider,” commander of their fleet. The book follows their friendship, a love story of sorts, as it clashes up against their need to survive post-revolutionary Callipolis. As I followed their story, I found myself embroiled in a fiery stream of questions: What is an ideal society? How much can we alter the course of our lives? And can the friends we find ever really matter more than the family to which we were born?

Fireborne reads so quickly that I devoured its 432 pages in two sittings. The novel is filled with characters that are complex, well-rounded, and far beyond simply “good” or “bad.” At times they made me angry—at other times, proud. I caught myself laughing, cheering, and feeling heartbroken by the contradictory paths of these friends—and how they nonetheless led them to the same place and the same battle. To me, a work of art challenges our thoughts without telling us how to think, but by enticing us to search deeper and wider. And that’s exactly what Fireborne did. P.S. My dad is now reading this book!