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

see hers already picking me apart. In the silence between us, our fantasy disintegrated and floated into the night sky like dust. Neither of us had to acknowledge its departure. We both knew the dream was gone, replaced by duty.

It was nice while it lasted.

I sank down onto a street bench. “Then what, Tisaanah? What do we do with all of this? We either do Nura’s insane bidding or turn ourselves over to a Fey man we met five minutes ago. Are those our options?”

“If what Ishqa told us is true…”

“I don’t trust him.”

“He could bring back my magic. Or try.”

“If by that, you mean bring back a vengeful Reshaye and kill you and probably turn you over to this omnipresent immortal threat looming over us, then likely yes. Sounds fantastic.”

Tisaanah rubbed her temples in a way that told me she’d had the same thoughts. “But I am useless without magic. No matter what we decide. And he did not seem like he was lying.”

A part of me wanted Tisaanah to be useless, or at least useless to all the people who just wanted to use her for the power she carried. “Even if he’s not lying, there’s a world of difference between that and the real truth.”

A humorless smile flickered over her face, nearly a wince. “And a world of difference between one person’s truth and the right thing for everyone.”

I scoffed. Ascended, didn’t we know it. More than ever, now.

“Perhaps we could try to make things better from the inside,” she said, weakly. “Guide Nura. Control her worst impulses.”

The image of Nura’s face flashed through my mind. I had never seen her look quite like that. I had already lived the consequences of what she was capable of. The idea of her pushed to true desperation? Terrifying.

I shook my head. “No. Nura’s not an easily manipulated person. We couldn’t control her, not as long as she has all the power.”

A long pause.

“Perhaps we wouldn’t need to,” Tisaanah muttered.

“Hm?”

She didn’t answer. She rose. Paced slowly. She wouldn’t look at me.

My eyes narrowed. “Let me into that brain of yours, Tisaanah.”

“Perhaps we are making an assumption too soon.”

And only then did she turn to me. Her eyes were a little too wide, bright with an unmistakable sheen.

I knew immediately what that meant. A plan. Tisaanah did love a plan.

I braced myself. “And what would that be?” I asked.

“I will warn you,” she said, “you are going to want to say no.”

There was a buzz in the back of my head. If I were to inspect that buzz a little closer, I’d find that it wasn’t the now all-too-familiar buzz of a headache, or of exhaustion, but instead a voice — a voice that was whispering, What the hell are you doing, Max?

I was dutifully ignoring that voice, probably because if I listened to it too closely, I’d find myself thinking, Actually, he has a point…

The lobby of the Towers was bustling with activity. At the back of the room, the double doors beneath the mural of Araich and Rosira were propped wide open, and the considerable crowd filtered between the central meeting hall and the lobby. Still, my eyes landed on Nura immediately. While everyone else was in movement, like bees scurrying through a hive, Nura stood at the center of it all, still as glass.

And yet, when her stare found mine, I could have sworn I saw her exhale even from across the room.

I was almost insulted that she’d never once looked that relieved to see me when we were lovers.

She pushed through the crowd to meet me. The moment we entered the Towers, Tisaanah had slipped away, now deep in a serious conversation with one of the councilors across the room. Nura’s eyes darted to her before coming back to me.

“You came. I didn’t think you would.”

“Neither did I.” Wholly the truth.

She gave me a small smile.

“I’m glad,” she said, quietly. “To have you with us. With me.”

I had no doubt that was the truth, too.

Nura’s hands were clenched around each other, tight enough that her knuckles were white. She always had done that when she was nervous, even if over the years she had sawed away all of her other tells. Today, everything about her appearance was immaculate, her braids intertwined neatly at the back of her head, her white Order of Midnight jacket spotless and pressed, the buttons as brightly silver as her eyes. She looked the part of a regal ruler.

I know she had dreamed of this day since she was a ten-year-old girl, laying eyes upon the Towers for the first time. Years ago, when we were both nominated as candidates for Arch Commandant, she had stayed up all night cradling her letter as if it were a newborn child.

And today, by decree of the council, the only remaining viable candidate — Nura Qan — would officially become Arch Commandant, and, by terrible, twisted extension, the ruler of Ara.

Incredible, how life could follow the same paths and yet seem so utterly unpredictable.

“How does it feel?” I asked. “To get everything you’ve ever wanted?”

Her smile faded. “I didn’t want it like this.”

A booming bell rang through the lobby four times, drowning out the hum of the crowd. When the sound faded, the room was quiet. People filed through the open double doors.

Across the room, Tisaanah turned to meet my eyes. So did the man beside her — Iya, a council member that I had not spoken to in many years.

“It’s time,” Nura said, under her breath. She gave me one final, nervous half smile and proceeded to the doors. Moments later, Tisaanah joined me.

“This will be an interesting day,” she said, casting a glance to Nura’s back, one that was only just short of a glare. Then it softened when she looked to me.

“Are you ready?”

“Never.”

Tisaanah chuckled. It was a nervous laugh. She nodded to the door. “Wonderful,” she said. “Then let’s go.”

The inside of the council room looked exactly as it had