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

of my children. I heard the screams, and I ran into my daughter’s room to find them pinning her to the ground. There was blood—”

Here, she choked, as if her words were too sharp to swallow. Still, she did not lift her eyes from the table. “There was blood everywhere. They cut open her wrists. There were two Wielders, a Valtain and a Solarie, and they were doing some spell, something to— to harness her, to turn my sweet child into something—”

She stopped herself, abruptly, and I had to blink away a memory that assaulted me all at once — my father holding me down, his hands at my throat. I fought the sudden, overwhelming urge to vomit.

Athalena turned to us. “I made them talk,” she spat, her mouth twisted into a sneer. “I made them tell me what they were doing. And they told me of the legends that they were following — unfounded ones, like those etched into this map. Stories of Fey blood having powerful magical properties if Wielded or eaten or… or changed. They said that they were told that half-blood blood was the most powerful of all. That it could be used to enhance the power of its Wielder. That my halfbreed child’s life was worth so little when weighed against that of their nations.”

Her voice was raw with pain. Human or not… I felt it, too. And I was so lost in it that I didn’t even think about the implications of what she was saying. Not until Ishqa said, quietly, “Like an Essnera?”

I could feel his stare. I felt as if all of the blood had suddenly left my hands. Beside me, Caduan stiffened.

“I don’t know,” Athalena said. “I don’t even care. To me it sounds as if it all could be a pile of storybook horse shit. Humans have unparalleled ability to believe in things. It’s what makes us powerful, makes our society advance as it has.” Her gaze went far away. “I always thought I was so lucky to have found Ezra. A Fey man who believes in things with his whole self, just as humans do. It is a beautiful thing. But it is also dangerous. Humans will follow a sweet lie to the ends of the earth. They will die for it, and they will kill for it.”

Her eyes found ours again — brighter, sharper, deadlier.

“And this is what I know. The humans are desperate. They have nowhere else to go. And they will not stop. They will never stop. And I know that you may think humans are small and weak, but they will never stop adapting, never stop innovating. A true war between the human and Fey nations will be catastrophic. Millions of people will die. I know this in my bones. But…”

She reached into her pocket and withdrew a heavily creased piece of parchment. This she laid on the table. It was a letter.

“What is that?” I asked.

“This is a letter from the leaders of a coalition of human nations,” she said. “My husband does not know that I have this, and I would like to keep it that way.”

I picked up the letter and unfolded it, skimming it.

“They will be meeting, soon. On an island to the south, off the coasts,” she said. “I took this letter from one of the people who came here. The leaders will all be there, including those leading this mission.”

“Why didn’t you tell Ezra about this?” I asked, and for a moment, Athalena looked so overwhelmingly sad.

“My husband wears his smile with ease, but the death of our daughter has bled him dry. Even for the stone, it hurts to watch the garden wither.”

Ishqa’s gaze slipped away, ashamed.

“He didn’t want to accept the humans to begin with. I will bear that guilt for the rest of my life. But now, he is even more fearful of losing his family. I am, too, but I know that it will happen if we don’t take action. I want you to do it, even though I cannot.”

“And what do you expect us to do at this meeting?” Ashraia asked.

“I know that some wish for peace, not endless war. You could convince them, bargain with them. Broker a treaty. Right now, they see you as fauna, not people.”

For a woman who had appeared so reasonable, this seemed like the suggestion of an optimistic child.

But then her face hardened, rage rising in her eyes. “Or you can slaughter the leaders where they stand, and watch their headless armies fall apart.”

Killing the men who had done such terrible things did not seem like a bad idea at all.

Athalena stood. “All I ask is that Niraja remains protected. And that we remain out of this.” Pain rippled across her face. “We have already made such painful sacrifices. And I hope that no one, not Fey nor human, has to bear another.”

Chapter Fifty-Four

Max

I felt as if I was watching myself from the outside.

When Tisaanah hit the ground, someone shouted — was it me? I watched myself scramble across the floor to her, stumbling over Zeryth’s body, slipping on his warm blood. I gathered her in my arms, feeling for a pulse, for a breath, for anything.

She didn’t respond.

I watched myself clutch this lifeless body, shout at it in increasing panic — Tisaanah, can you hear me, Tisaanah, open your eyes, Tisaanah, what were you fucking thinking, you insufferable woman, why did you do that — and a single thought solidified:

This is the end. The world will be different after this.

Because every time I thought of a future, it wore Tisaanah’s face. If she died, it would die with her.

Tisaanah did not move.

And then the world snapped back into focus.

No. I was not ready to let her go.

I scrambled for my ink and parchment, buried in my pocket. Unfolded it. Scrawled a Stratagram, somehow, with shaking hands, and held Tisaanah close as the world dissolved around us.

It was a bad land. A chair