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

and a coffee table crashed to the floor where I had fallen on top of them. Several voices let out shrieks or horrified gasps — of course they did, because two bloody figures had just shown up in the middle of this seedy Meriata coffee shop.

“What is all of this Ascended-damned—”

Eomara threw back the curtain to the offices. Her eyes went round.

“Help me,” I ground out.

“Max, what in the—”

“Now, Eomara. Please.”

She looked at my panicked face, then the body in my arms.

“Get in here.”

There was a cacophony of crashes as Eomara unceremoniously cleared her desk with a burst of magic, then motioned for me to put Tisaanah there. Immediately, the dark mahogany was bright with blood, mine and Tisaanah’s and Zeryth’s all smeared together.

Distantly, I heard Erik utter a curse and some frantic question that blurred in the background, and Eomara snap at him to be quiet.

I could look at nothing but the stillness of Tisaanah’s chest.

“What happened? Is it— move, damn it, I can’t look at her if you insist on standing in my way.” Eomara leaned over Tisaanah, nudging me aside. Whatever she saw in Tisaanah’s face made her give me a grave glance.

“This is it, isn’t it? What you came here to talk about.”

Erik hovered nearby, one of Tisaanah’s wrists in his hand. “Oh, this doesn’t look good.”

“Enough, Erik. Max, is it?”

My mouth was so dry I could barely answer. “Tell me what I can do.”

Erik dropped Tisaanah’s wrist. “Ascended above, she’s dead.”

“Erik, enough!” When Eomara pushed up one of Tisaanah’s sleeves, her eyebrows lurched at the scars that now adorned the insides of her forearms.

“You said it would be an energy pit,” I said. “The curse. And Vardir said something about mixing our magic— that it would be possible to— to give her what it’s taking—”

She shook her head. “No. Not possible. It’ll kill both of you.”

“I don’t give two shits about what’s not possible, Eomara. And you don’t, either. That’s why I came here.”

Eomara gave me a long, hard look, her mouth thinned to a stern line. Her hand was still around Tisaanah’s wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse, a pulse that I knew was not beating, and every second that terrible silence went on, the farther away Tisaanah slipped.

We didn’t have time for uncertainty.

I opened my second eyelids, and power roared through me like sparks taking to a pile of kindling.

Erik cursed and leapt halfway across the room, and Eomara’s eyes went round.

“Maxantarius, what have you—”

“Don’t tell me what’s not possible, Eomara.”

After a slight hesitation, Eomara reached for my arm. I felt faint magic pulsing at her touch — her magic reaching out for mine, testing it, examining it.

When her gaze met mine again, the decision was made.

“The curse that’s taking her demands life itself,” she said. “Maybe… this magic you have can go deep enough to help displace that cost, but the cost will be fucking high, Max. I need you to understand that. We might not know exactly what you’re giving up for years. Decades, even.”

No hesitation. “I’ll do it.”

A certain softness flickered across Eomara’s face — perhaps pity. She gave me a sharp nod, then whirled back to the bookcases, rummaging through packed drawers. Then she shoved a small bottle of blue liquid into my hands. “Drink. All of it. It’ll either kill you or keep you alive.”

The stuff tasted like poison that someone had already pissed out and re-bottled. Two gulps in, and a shock of ice pierced my mind. Three gulps, and I could barely make my thoughts form a straight line. By the time I finished, the world was vibrating.

Eomara leaned over Tisaanah, pulling a knife from the desk. She opened a slit across Tisaanah’s palm.

“I wish you’d thought to bring your healer friend,” Eomara muttered. “That handsome one.”

Then she took my hand in hers, and pulled the dagger across my glowing skin. Even as I drew upon this magic, even as my body was coated with flames themselves, I still bled the same. My blood was bright red over flame-touched skin.

“Fascinating,” Eomara muttered. She picked up Tisaanah’s hand, too, so she held us both, and leveled a serious gaze at me.

“When you do this,” she said, “you could feed her your magic. Give her enough of it to grab onto and replenish what the curse is taking from her. That’s the theory. Or—”

I didn’t care about the or.

I reached for Tisaanah’s bleeding hand. I could have sworn I could feel her, even though as a Solarie, my magic wasn’t well-suited to such things. But I knew her. I had memorized the sound of her silent movements and all the thoughts she didn’t say.

This was her. She was still there.

Eomara let out a little gasp.

My gaze flicked down. My blood was a thread of crimson, now floating in the air of its own accord, like a thread suspended in water. And Tisaanah’s was, too, rising into the air and reaching for mine. For a split second, they dangled there, like two fissures about to collide.

And then I slammed my palm against Tisaanah’s, clutching her hand so tightly my knuckles went white—

And I didn’t let go.

Not even as I doubled over in pain. Not even as the room went blindingly hot and bright as my flames flared in a wild burst. Not even as my blood itself seemed to rebel against me, like some noxious poison was invading me and draining me all at once.

I didn’t let go.

Because through all of that, through the pain and the black that I could now see crawling up my skin, I felt it. Distant, and fading farther still, but unmistakable.

Her.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Tisaanah

Living as I did, one had to become comfortable with the possibility of death. I was so young when we fled Nyzerene. Don’t look, Tisaanah, my mother had told me as we ran, my face buried in her shoulder. Don’t look. And I didn’t.

If I had, what would I have seen? My home destroyed?