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

all those years ago. It was large and circular, with windows near the ceiling that spilled mottled light over the seats. Most were already filled, though many of the faces in the crowd didn’t look especially thrilled to be there. Everyone was on edge.

Everything in this room was a stark reminder of the shadow the Orders had become of what they used to be. Only a few aging members of the Council remained. Some were already seated in the front row around the round stage, wrapped in red robes.

“I will admit, Maxantarius…”

A smooth, accented voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up to see Iya standing beside me.

“…I never did think I was going to see you within these walls again.”

I gave him a humorless smile. “If I’m being honest, neither did I, Councilor.”

“Are you glad we were both wrong?”

Iya’s silver eyes twinkled. They were oddly ageless, and he’d always been the type to look at you as if you were being tested by criteria known only to him.

I spoke carefully. “‘Glad’ is probably not the word. But I’ve been given a significant amount of trust by people who deserve to see it mean something, in the end.”

“And you think you can live up to that?”

What a question. “I…certainly hope so.”

Iya cocked his head, staring at me. “I do, too,” he said, before gliding away to be seated with the rest of the council.

“What was that bizarre exchange?”

My eyebrows lurched. I turned to see Sammerin, taking a seat beside me. He looked surprised to see us, gaze darting from me to Tisaanah in obvious confusion.

“You two decided to cut your break short to come… watch some depressing Orders pageantry?”

“Break?”

Sammerin looked at me like I was insane. “Yes?”

Ascended above. I forgot there had been a break. And Sammerin knew absolutely nothing. Tisaanah and I had barely slept the previous night, and not in a fun sort of way. Time had been a blur.

I rubbed my temples. “Sammerin… there’s a lot we’re going to have to—”

But then Nura cleared her throat, now standing on the central stage of the chamber, and a hush fell over the room.

“Wielders of the Order of Midnight and the Order of Daybreak,” Nura said, her voice rising to fill the room. “I am deeply honored to stand before you today as the interim Arch Commandant following the tragic and untimely death of Zeryth Aldris. I have spent my life serving the Orders, and will gladly give you the rest of it, if you will let me today.” She paced across the stage, pausing before the five Council members and bowing her head.

“Councilors. I stand before you today asking for your blessing to officially assume the title of Arch Commandant. As we all know, the sudden death of Aldris and the pressing nature of looming threats against our country force our hands. We cannot go through the evaluation processes for other candidates, which take months at a time. I have already completed the requisite tests. I have proven myself. And following the sad death of Maia Azeroth eight years ago and the restrictions placed upon Maxantarius Farlione, I stand before you as the final remaining viable member of the sixteenth cycle candidates.” She sank to one knee, her head bowing. “I submit myself, Nura Qan, as candidate for Arch Commandant. And I ask you, Councilors, to bestow me this honor.”

I didn’t realize my hands were shaking until I felt Tisaanah’s firm grasp still them.

The first Councilor rose.

“I commit the title of Arch Commandant to you, Nura Qan,” he said.

Even from this distance, I could see Nura’s body jolt, ever so slightly, as if the sound of those words struck her with a stronger force than she thought they would.

They struck me, too, in an entirely different way.

The second Councilor stood.

“I grant you, Nura Qan, the title of Arch Commandment.”

The room was utterly silent.

And then the third Councilor rose — Iya.

There was a long silence. Tisaanah’s hand was so tight around mine that my fingertips were going numb. Or maybe that was just my nervousness.

“Councilor?” Nura’s voice was small, uncertain.

Finally, he spoke.

“Nura Qan, I have known you for many years. In that time, I have witnessed your commitment to the Orders and to Ara. The bounds to which you will go for your rank hold no limits. As councilor, I have seen hundreds of Wielders pass through the halls of the Towers. I can name none who are as resolute, as iron-willed, or as wholly committed to her beliefs.”

An uneasy smile twitched at the corners of Nura’s mouth.

“Thank you, Councilor.”

“You have many times over proven your commitment to the Orders and to Ara,” Iya said. “And for that service, we all owe you deeply. But I do not offer you the title of Arch Commandant.”

A gasp rippled through the room.

He turned to the audience, his silver gaze landing on me. “I call upon the candidate of Maxantarius Farlione.”

Hundreds of stares snapped to me, gasps ascending into murmurs. I rose to my feet. I could barely feel them. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that buzz rose to a shout: What the hell are you doing, Max?!

I did not look at the crowd. I did not look at Tisaanah, or Sammerin, who muttered a confused curse. I did not even look at Iya.

Instead I met Nura’s eyes, eyes that were wide with utter shock. And my voice was stronger than I felt when I answered, “Maxantarius Farlione accepts the call.”

Chapter Seventy-Five

Max

For a moment, there was silence. Then murmurs rippled through the crowd. Even without hearing the individual words, I knew what they were saying. Disqualified, they whispered. Excommunicated. He can’t do this…can he?

Nura was staring only at me, her eyes round, lips parted. I had seen that look before — on the faces of soldiers who looked down and realized there was an arrow burrowed between their ribs. I realized that it had simply never occurred to her that this would happen. The thought