I need to talk to you about dragons.
And enemies-to-lovers romance. And magical academies where death lurks around every corner and the protagonist has to be twice as clever just to survive until breakfast.
If you've been living under a rock for the past couple years, let me catch you up: Rebecca Yarros' Fourth Wing took the reading world by storm in 2023, becoming an instant sensation with its perfect storm of romantasy elements—a fierce heroine who refuses to let physical limitations define her, a brutally competitive war college where students literally ride dragons into battle, and Xaden Riorson, the tattooed wing leader who oscillates between wanting to murder our girl Violet and wanting to, well, not murder her. You know how it goes. The book spawned a massive fandom practically overnight, with readers desperately awaiting each new installment while re-reading the original until the pages fell out.
But here's the thing about finishing a book that good: you're left with this aching void in your chest, this desperate need for more. More dragons. More banter. More life-or-death stakes wrapped up in a love story that makes your heart pound. I've been there. Hell, I'm always there, which is why I've spent years tracking down books that scratch that same delicious itch. From fantasy academies dripping with danger to enemies who definitely shouldn't kiss but absolutely will, I've found reads that'll fill the Fourth Wing-shaped hole in your life.
Let's start with the most obvious comp, shall we? Novik's Scholomance series revolves around El, a lethally powerful sorceress attending a magical school that actively tries to kill its students. Not metaphorically. Literally. The cafeteria might serve you lunch, or it might serve you to the monsters lurking in the walls. Survival isn't guaranteed. Graduation is even less certain.
El is prickly, sarcastic, brilliant, and completely isolated—until Orion Lake, the school's golden boy hero, starts inserting himself into her life in the most inconvenient ways possible. The slow-burn tension between them could power a small city. What makes this series particularly perfect for Fourth Wing fans is how Novik balances genuine mortal peril with character development. Every test matters. Every choice has consequences. And the magic system? Chef's kiss. Plus, El's internal monologue rivals Violet's for sheer wit and self-awareness, even as she's convinced everyone sees her as the villain.
Fair warning: this one's dark. Really dark. But if what drew you to Fourth Wing was the military academy setting and the way war shapes young soldiers, then Kuang's grimdark fantasy trilogy is essential reading. Rin, a war orphan, aces her way into Sinegard, the most elite military academy in Nikan, only to discover that surviving the school is just the beginning. What awaits her is a world of shamanism, gods, and a brewing conflict that will test everything she believes about power, vengeance, and the cost of survival.
The training sequences at Sinegard echo Basgiath's brutal competitiveness, though Kuang pushes even harder into examining what military institutions do to the young people they're supposed to forge into weapons. Rin's journey from scrappy underdog to something far more complicated and morally ambiguous makes for absolutely riveting reading. Just be prepared—this isn't a fluffy romantasy. It's inspired by Chinese history, particularly the Second Sino-Japanese War, and Kuang doesn't flinch from depicting war's true horrors.
Look, I know what you're thinking. "Everyone recommends SJM." But hear me out! If you loved the world-building in Fourth Wing—the way Yarros created an entire continent with different provinces, magical systems, and political intrigue—then Maas' Crescent City series delivers that same immersive experience, just with a urban fantasy twist instead of dragons.
Bryce Quinlan is a half-fae, half-human woman living in Lunathion (aka Crescent City), working a dead-end job and trying to forget a tragedy that shattered her world two years prior. When she's forced to team up with Hunt Athalar, a fallen angel enslaved to the Archangels, to solve a string of brutal murders, the investigation uncovers secrets that could topple their entire society. The banter between Bryce and Hunt crackles off the page. The stakes escalate beautifully. And the found family vibes? Immaculate. Plus, Maas' ability to weave romance into high-stakes fantasy plotting rivals Yarros' own skills in that department.
Pacific Rim meets Chinese history in this absolutely wild sci-fi fantasy that asks: what if piloting giant mechs to fight aliens required a male-female pair, and what if the process almost always killed the female pilot? Enter Zetian, who volunteers as a concubine-pilot specifically to murder the pilot responsible for her sister's death. Except she doesn't die. She becomes the Iron Widow, a female pilot powerful enough to not just survive, but dominate.
The comparisons to Fourth Wing are obvious—young woman in a militaristic society, deadly training, riding/piloting something massive and dangerous into battle. But Zhao adds layers of feminist rage and polyamorous romance that make this story entirely its own beast. Zetian's fury at a system designed to sacrifice women is palpable on every page, and her relationships with both Li Shimin and Yizhi create a complex emotional core that had me gasping. The action sequences are spectacular, the stakes are sky-high, and Zetian's refusal to play by anyone's rules makes her a protagonist you can't help but root for.
Space opera! With enemies-to-lovers! And a magic system involving bonding with massive war machines! If you're willing to trade dragons for starships, Skrutskie's trilogy offers that same addictive mix of action, romance, and "wait, I'm in love with WHO?" that made Fourth Wing so compelling.
Ettian's just trying to survive at the military academy when his best friend Gal saves his life during a failed assassination attempt. Turns out Gal isn't just Ettian's roommate—he's the heir to the empire that destroyed Ettian's home planet. Cue a desperate flight across the galaxy, with Ettian torn between his growing feelings for Gal and his duty to his people. The political intrigue is deliciously complex, the action never stops, and the romantic tension could cut glass. Plus, Skrutskie's prose has this propulsive quality that makes it nearly impossible to put down.
What if Arthurian legend was real, but hidden behind secret societies at a Southern university? And what if a Black teenage girl, grieving her mother's death, accidentally witnessed magic and demanded entry into this exclusive world? That's the premise of Deonn's spectacular series, which takes the magical academy trope and infuses it with an examination of race, grief, and power that feels urgent and necessary.
Bree Matthews is at UNC-Chapel Hill on an early college program, trying to outrun her pain, when she stumbles onto the Legendborn—descendants of King Arthur's knights who battle demons threatening our world. As she digs deeper, Bree uncovers truths about her own heritage that connect her to magic far older than the Legendborn's traditions. The romantic triangle between Bree, Nick (the charming Legendborn scion), and Selwyn (the mysterious and brooding Merlin) absolutely sizzles. But what elevates this beyond typical YA fantasy is how Deonn weaves in themes of generational trauma, stolen history, and reclaiming power. It's smart, it's emotional, and it's absolutely unputdownable.
If you're craving more of that Rebecca Yarros magic—the way she balances swoony romance with genuine stakes—then Ross' Divine Rivals should be your next read. Set in a world where two gods are at war, the story follows Iris, a young journalist who takes a front-line correspondent position to search for her missing brother, and Roman, her rival at the newspaper who ends up stationed near her.
Here's the twist: Iris and Roman have been writing letters to each other through magical wardrobes, pouring out their hearts to anonymous pen pals, not realizing they're writing to their workplace nemesis. The epistolary elements add such intimacy to their relationship, and Ross' prose has this lyrical quality that makes even the quiet moments feel significant. The war backdrop provides real danger and consequence, while the romance unfolds with aching slowness. It's enemies-to-lovers with a twist, and it's so satisfying.
Intricate magic system? Check. Daughter trying to prove herself to a harsh, demanding parent? Check. Political intrigue and rebellion simmering beneath the surface? Check, check, check. Stewart's Drowning Empire trilogy offers epic fantasy with Asian-inspired world-building and one of the most unique magic systems I've encountered in years.
The emperor rules through bone shard magic, using pieces of his citizens' skulls to power constructs that enforce his will. His daughter Lin is losing her memories and desperately trying to prove she's worthy of inheriting the throne. But the empire is crumbling, and revolution is brewing. The multiple POV structure means we see this world from many angles—the heir, the rebel, the spy—and Stewart weaves their stories together masterfully. If you loved watching Violet navigate Basgiath's deadly politics while hiding her true capabilities, you'll devour Lin's journey.
Snarky heroine with hidden powers running from her past? Sexy warlord who captures her and makes her join his quest? Banter so sharp it could draw blood? Yes, yes, and yes. Bouchet's Kingmaker Chronicles trilogy is pure romantic fantasy indulgence, following Cat, a soothsayer hiding in a traveling circus, and Griffin, the warrior who needs her abilities to secure his new kingdom.
The Greek mythology-inspired world feels fresh and vibrant. Cat's voice is hilarious and fierce, her internal commentary providing constant entertainment as she tries to resist Griffin's considerable charms. Their relationship develops from captor-captive to something far more complex and consensual, with Bouchet navigating that evolution skillfully. And the found family Cat builds with Griffin's elite team of warriors? Chef's kiss. It's lighter in tone than Fourth Wing, but the romantic tension and adventure will keep you glued to the pages.
Dragons. Revolutionary politics. Class warfare. Two childhood friends on opposite sides of a new regime. Munda's duology is criminally underrated, offering everything Fourth Wing fans crave with an added dose of moral complexity that'll keep you up at night.
Annie and Lee were both orphaned by the revolution that toppled the dragonlord aristocracy. Now they're dragonriders in the new regime, but Annie is lowborn while Lee is a former dragonlord hiding his heritage. As they compete to become First Rider, their friendship fractures under the weight of secrets and conflicting loyalties. Munda doesn't shy away from difficult questions about justice, revenge, and whether revolutionary ideals can survive contact with power. The dragon-riding sequences are spectacular, the political intrigue is gripping, and the romance unfolds with painful, beautiful slowness.
Yeah, I'm recommending SJM twice. Fight me. Because if what you loved most about Fourth Wing was watching Violet transform from physically vulnerable to genuinely powerful while falling for someone who challenged her at every turn, then Feyre's journey from mortal huntress to High Fae warrior is essential reading.
The first book leans heavily on Beauty and the Beast retellings, with Feyre taken to the magical lands of the fae after killing a wolf in the woods. Tamlin, the High Lord who captures her, is all brooding intensity, and their romance develops against the backdrop of a curse threatening all of Prythian. But it's in the second and third books where this series really takes off, as Feyre comes into her own power and the story expands into epic, multi-realm conflict. The found family, the political maneuvering, the way Maas writes romantic tension—it all clicks. Plus, the fandom is massive, so you'll have plenty of people to scream with.
Okay, this one's different. There's no romance to speak of, and the magic system revolves around translation and linguistics rather than dragons or combat. But if you appreciated how Fourth Wing examined military institutions and the cost of power, Kuang's standalone novel offers a devastating critique of academia and empire.
Robin Swift, a Chinese orphan, is brought to Oxford to study at the Royal Institute of Translation, where silver bars inscribed with matched words from different languages produce magical effects that power the British Empire. As Robin and his cohort uncover the true cost of this magic—built on colonialism and exploitation—they're forced to choose between the institution that gave them everything and the people it's destroying. Kuang's prose is gorgeous, her world-building meticulous, and her willingness to sit in moral ambiguity makes this one of the most thought-provoking fantasies in recent years.
So there you have it. Thirteen books to fill the void. Some are darker, some lighter, some trade dragons for spaceships or magic for linguistics. But they all share that essential quality that made Fourth Wing so addictive: characters you'd follow into hell, stakes that matter, and that delicious tension—romantic, political, or both—that keeps you reading until 3 AM, bleary-eyed and completely unable to stop.
Your TBR pile just got a lot taller. You're welcome.
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