Children of Fallen Gods (The War of Lost Hearts Book 2) by Carissa Broadbent (good english books to read .TXT) 📕

to see the auburn-haired male, clearly fighting to stay conscious.

“Take— me—”

“I’ll come back,” I said.

“Please,” he rasped. “They must… see.”

Is that really what he thought? That the people of the House of Obsidian were so cold, so heartless, that we would not help them unless we saw his entrails with our own eyes?

I could not bring myself to leave him behind.

So I straightened, grabbed the little tube of steel that hung around my throat, and whistled for Rhee. When she galloped through the brush, I — as gently as I could manage — lifted him out of the dripping swamp. He was trembling so violently that he nearly slipped from my grasp, the hot warmth of his blood soaking through my clothes. There was so, so much of it.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, as I hoisted him onto Rhee’s back while he let out a little, gurgling groan. When I climbed up after him and urged Rhee into the fastest gallop she could manage, I tried to press my body against his to keep him as stable as possible.

We flew through the trees. I peered down and noticed the distinctive cut of his jacket, a high collar finished with bronze thread and a triangle sigil at the back of his neck.

The House of Stone. A small but respected House, and Obsidian’s closest neighbor, though it still sat miles away. My brow furrowed.

Did they drag themselves here?

“Who did this?” I whispered. We broke through the forest. The wall came into view, and beyond it, the sleek darkness of the Pales. “What happened?”

I did not expect an answer. My companion was now slack against Rhee’s neck, his blood soaking all three of us. But his face turned, just enough for me to see the edge of his profile, a sliver of green iris.

“Humans,” he ground out.

Humans?!

As far as I knew, none of the Houses had had any contact with humans in many hundreds of years. And compared to Fey, humans were so weak. I counted nearly a dozen gutted Fey in those swamps.

That couldn’t be.

“Later,” I said. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Words I couldn’t understand tumbled from the Fey’s mouth.

I leaned closer. We flew through the gates, falling into the familiar, welcoming shadow of the Pales.

“What?”

“I am thirteenth,” he mumbled. “For the crown.”

Then he went slack, falling utterly silent.

Chapter Five

Max

“I’m so glad to see you’ve made it here safely, despite the…excitement. Apparently you didn’t receive our letters at sea. Sit. Eat. You must be hungry.”

Zeryth stood at the head of the table and gestured down its length. Overflowing platters of food were artfully arranged down the center, chicken and fish, rice and breads, diced fruits with wet, crimson meat glistening beneath the candlelight. The table could have easily seated thirty, but the five of us were clustered at one end. Near the other, Tare, Sesri’s Valtain advisor, sat with his eyes downcast. And at the head, Zeryth stood and smiled at us with easy charm.

Zeryth. Zeryth was there, in the same spot my father used to sit, in the main dining room of my family home.

Zeryth Aldris, wearing a crown on his head.

I was so furious I could barely speak.

“Why are we here?” I demanded.

But my words were sliced in two by the sound of splitting air. Three silver blurs whizzed past my ear, so fast I felt my hair rustle.

“You snake,” Nura spat.

In a split second, Zeryth was leaning against the table, rubbing his neck and peering over his shoulder — at the three throwing knives now embedded in the wallpaper behind him.

Beside me, Nura stood rigid, her eyes icy with rage.

“Welcome back, my dearest Second,” Zeryth said, sweetly.

“You have no shame.”

“As opposed to… who, you? Who didn’t wait thirty seconds before your first assassination attempt?”

She missed on purpose. I wished she hadn’t. Words still escaped me. That was rare.

“You have many things to explain, Zeryth,” Tisaanah said, quietly but with a deadly edge to her voice, and Zeryth straightened as he smiled at us.

“I do indeed. Sit down, and we’ll talk.”

Sit down. Funny, how out of everything, those two words, were the thing that made a bitter laugh slip between my teeth.

Zeryth’s smile turned to ice.

“Is something amusing?”

“Zeryth Aldris just invited me for dinner in my own Ascended-damned childhood home, with a crown perched on his head. Amusing is not the term I’d use.” I didn’t realize I was leaning forward until I felt my palms pressed against the mahogany of the table. Beneath my left thumb, I could feel a scratch in the surface. Variaslus had made that mark, some fifteen years ago, when scratching away at too-thin parchment with the nib of his pen.

And now Zeryth is sitting there, telling me to sit down.

“Where is Sesri?” Sammerin asked.

“Why are we here?” I added. Because still, despite everything, it was the one question I kept coming back to.

But I wasn’t quite expecting the sheer lack of hesitation, the utter nonchalance, as Zeryth said, “Queen Sesri is dead.” He took a bite of steak, chewed loudly. “Eat. Don’t make all of this go to waste.”

We all sat there in stunned silence. Every set of eyes looked to Tare, who seemed to sink into his chair, staring down at his empty plate, expressionless.

“Horseback riding accident,” Zeryth added. “It was horrible.”

“Accident,” Sammerin repeated, dryly.

Zeryth cocked an eyebrow, then put down his fork and continued. “Sesri placed a great deal of trust in the Orders. Tare, after all, was her most trusted advisor.” Zeryth gestured to the Valtain beside him, though Tare’s gaze remained dutifully lowered. “Obviously, Sesri had no heirs and likely would not for a very long time, considering her age. So, prior to her death she enacted a decree entrusting the Crown to the Arch Commandant as regent, in the event of her death. Thus…”

Zeryth reached into his breast pocket and produced a sheet of folded up parchment paper. He smoothed it out on the table, then slid it towards us. I craned my neck