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

again. She had remained silent as Tisaanah told her what she had told me — about how she survived the breaking of Zeryth’s curse. About how Reshaye had been the one to die, instead.

I still found it hard to believe. Sure, in theory, I could see how it could potentially work, at least by the bounds Eomara had laid out. I was feeding Tisaanah my magic, and that kept her alive long enough to have Reshaye trade whatever life it had — if anyone could even call whatever Reshaye had a “life” — for hers.

It sounded unbelievable, but not any moreso than any other of the insanity that we lived with every damn day. I just wasn’t ready to accept it. Wasn’t ready to let myself believe in that kind of hope.

“And since then,” Nura said, “you haven’t heard it at all?”

“No. Nothing.”

“And your magic?”

Tisaanah extended her hand. Her fingers, like mine, were still blackened, dark veins crawling up the insides of her forearms. Her hands were shaking.

“Nothing,” Tisaanah said.

And I knew that was the thing that terrified Tisaanah most of all: this sudden powerlessness.

Something that even I couldn’t quite decipher flickered across Nura’s face. I half expected her to rage at this development. I knew she considered Reshaye to be the most valuable asset that the Orders held. And for it to disappear now, just as she finally had the power of Arch Commandant within her grasp?

Good, I thought. I’m glad.

But if Nura felt this frustration, she didn’t voice it.

“You’re exhausted,” she said. “It will take weeks for you to recover from this physically, let alone magically. It’s too early for us to tell what Reshaye did or didn’t do.”

Tisaanah said nothing. But I read the expression on her face, one that said, I know what it did.

“I think that both of you should go rest for a few weeks,” Nura went on. “Leave the Towers, if you want. Go home.”

Tisaanah and I exchanged a surprised glance.

“I’m shocked that you trust us enough to let us leave the Towers,” I said, drily. But Ascended, I wanted nothing more. The word home caught in my mind and lingered there.

“Oh, I know you’ll be back.” Nura looked to Tisaanah, ghost of a smile on her lips. “Tisaanah has unfinished business to attend to, after all.”

And sure enough, Tisaanah wore an expression that by now I knew very well — relentless brute force, so at odds with the obvious weakness of her body. I watched a silent battle war across her face.

“And when I return,” she said, “we will go back to Threll.”

“When you return, we will go back to Threll. Just as your contract states. You won our war. I have no intention of backing out of our deal.”

I didn’t miss the slight sour inflection when Nura said our war. Zeryth’s war. I’m sure that killed her.

Still, I eyed her warily. Something wasn’t right in this response. From the perspective of the Orders, it was objectively unwise to go fight a war in Threll when the one here had only just ended, and she would need those forces to help rebuild her country and squash small rebellions. It would be in her best interest to try to wiggle out of her terms with Tisaanah any way she could. If she wasn’t doing it now, she’d do it later. I was certain of that.

Tisaanah saw that too, because there was a pinch of skepticism in her expression.

“Just two weeks,” she said, at last. “We can recover for two weeks, and then we will come back.”

“Be realistic with yourself. You can’t even heal a broken bone in two weeks, let alone a broken body. Both of you look like you went through a meat grinder.”

Tisaanah just shook her head. “Two weeks.”

Nura shrugged. “Suit yourself, I suppose.”

And that was that. Tisaanah and I were to leave the Towers the next day.

Later that afternoon, Sammerin came. He swung open the door — as always, without knocking — and stood there giving me a deadpan stare of utter disapproval.

“I hear that you have had a very exciting day.”

“You hear correctly.”

“Every time I see you, I’m always slightly amazed that you’re still alive.” He shook his head, set down his pack, and set to work on my arm, which still hurt fiercely. But when I pulled up my sleeve, he looked down at the veins on my skin, frowning and silent.

“I know,” I said. “Unattractive, isn’t it?”

“Do you know what that is?”

I paused, Eomara’s words echoing in my head. Now it seemed so obvious that I was amazed that we hadn’t picked up on it sooner. “I think,” I said, quietly, “it’s some form of A’Maril.”

Sammerin’s gaze shot to me, his silence not hiding his alarm at the thought.

“I think that the magic that Tisaanah and I have exposes us. Eomara theorized about it. And even Vardir said some things that implied… the magic that we were Wielding was not intended for human bodies.”

“And that would mean A’Maril,” Sammerin muttered.

“Right.” I looked down at my hands, veins dark, and thought of how much darker Tisaanah’s were. “I didn’t realize until I fed Tisaanah my magic. It felt like it… magnified everything.”

“Wait… you—”

I gave him a weak shrug. “Like you said. It’s been an exciting day.”

Sammerin leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and giving me an expectant stare. I sighed and, of course, I told him the whole sorry thing. When I was done, Sammerin let out a long breath.

“That sounds…”

“Unbelievable?”

“If I didn’t know you were an awful liar, I’d assume that you were… embellishing.”

I let out a rough laugh. “That’s our lives these days, isn’t it?”

Sammerin shrugged, as if conceding. Then he leaned forward, suddenly serious. “Gone.”

“So it would appear.”

“It may be too early to make that determination. If Tisaanah is as depleted as you are, it could just be—”

“Could be. But Tisaanah is certain.”

“If it’s true,” Sammerin muttered, “then I’ll never be so happy to see something die.”

“Me too.”

And yet, I couldn’t