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

But then Reshaye’s voice unfurled in my mind like a thread of smoke in the darkness.

{He is right,} it whispered. {You are never alone.}

The next morning, I stood with Serel, leaning over the rail of the ship. I had barely gotten back to sleep the night before, but aside from aching eyes I wasn’t tired. Instead, I felt like electricity was running through me.

Beside me, Serel lifted his chin and blinked into the salty sea air.

“We’re arriving today, right?” he asked.

“The Syrizen say we’re close to shore. If it cleared up a bit, maybe we would be able to see the Towers by now.”

Serel let out a long, low whistle. “The Towers. What a sight that must be.”

“It’s really something.” There was no denying that. When I first came to Ara, I had been so feverish when I arrived that I barely remembered the journey. The only thing I did remember was that sight — the Towers, framed above the imposing Aran cliffs. It had been so magnificent that it made everything inside of me go silent.

And for the first time in weeks, I had felt hope.

Reshaye sniffed at the memory and let out a bitter chuckle.

{How foolish you were. How naive.}

“I never thought I would live to see it.” An easy smile still clung to Serel’s mouth, but his voice dipped a little as he said it, and I knew all the bittersweet depth hidden in that one sentence. A lump rose in my throat.

“You’ll love it,” I said.

I told myself it was true. It had to be true. Serel loved almost everything. He was effortlessly, ceaselessly optimistic. There was no reason why his feelings towards Ara would be any different. But still… there was so much he didn’t know. So much that I didn’t know.

I turned and looked out across the deck. Almost all of the passengers were up here now, which meant that it had become exceptionally crowded. But everyone knew how close we were to arriving, and no one was willing to miss the first glimpse of Ara.

The refugees’ emotions were so unguarded compared to those of Arans. Excitement was so thick in the air that it felt like breathing in syrupy mist. And I could taste what lived beneath it, too. Nervousness. Uncertainty. Fear.

My eyes fell to the other end of the boat, where a group of refugees clustered around two figures. One was a young man, Filias, who was a little older than Serel, with cropped dark hair and stubble across his chin. He had large, deep set eyes that were almost always narrowed, assessing the world with inherent suspicion. Beside him was a woman in her fifties, with a calm face and red-and-grey streaked hair — Riasha.

The two of them were inseparable, and they were always surrounded by people. Though both of them had been slaves from Esmaris’s estate, I barely knew them. While I had largely been confined to the house, they had lived on the outskirts of Esmaris’s land, working the farms. Serel had met Filias a few times, when Filias had been pulled into guard duties. But I hadn’t met either of them until they had boarded this ship, and the first thing I had noticed was the way they radiated determination.

Most of the people on this boat were here so they could go build a better life for themselves. But Filias and Riasha wanted to build something bigger.

I was fully in support of that, of course. Still, they, especially Filias, regarded me with deep, wary suspicion.

It didn’t offend me. It didn’t even surprise me.

Surely they had heard the stories of me, and my terrible magic. And while all of us had been slaves to the same master, the people on this ship were otherwise completely different from each other. We all came from disparate fallen nations, some of which had been at war with each other for years before the Threllians swooped in to become the bigger threat. To some, I was a savior. To others, I was a Nyzrenese witch who had sold her soul to some dark god — someone who had helped them, yes, but not necessarily someone to be trusted.

And maybe they were right to think so. Perhaps I had saved my people from one war-torn country just to drag them into another. Perhaps I would not be able to protect them, when I wasn’t even sure how I could protect myself — with my blood on an Order contract, and Reshaye burrowed deep in my mind.

Of their own accord, my eyes slid across the deck until they landed on Max, who was leaning against the rail beside Sammerin. He looked as if he was busy ranting about something. I wondered if he had any idea how easy he was to read. I was so far away and yet I felt like I could practically hear him.

“So. How’s the sex?”

My eyebrows leapt as my head whipped to Serel, who gave me a sly smirk. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“There’s no sex.”

“Oh, excuse me. Lovemaking.”

“Serel!” I could feel my cheeks heating, even though I tried to look very serious and convincing. “There is no sex. Or lovemaking.”

“That’d be a shame, if it were true, which it isn’t.”

“What makes you think—”

“He looks at you like he wants to eat you. Slowly. With his tongue.”

Now my face was burning. Regardless, I still took a moment to appreciate the image that conjured in my mind.

“See?” Serel said, gesturing, and sure enough, I turned to see Max staring at me. When I met his stare, he gave me a too-casual wave and looked away.

Gods. He was easy to read.

“I—”

I was still deciding how I was going to respond to this when Serel’s eyes suddenly went wide, lifting to look over my shoulder. Thereni shouts rang out, a ripple of awe rising up from the crowd.

Serel muttered a curse of amazement.

I turned around.

The mist had parted, hazy white giving way to