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

us, in the wood that made up the splintered floorboards — and in Caduan, weak and waning, like a delicate butterfly fluttering in the center of his chest.

I leaned over him, calling to that thread of light. Something intrinsic in me now understood how to speak to it.

Rise, I whispered. Come back.

All at once, he surrounded me like a gust of wind.

The power of it was intoxicating, sweeter and headier than any wine. Every part of me was calling for him, reaching deeper than the warmth of his skin — deeper, rawer, than the physical desire of lust.

I felt so utterly exposed.

Caduan’s eyes opened.

I couldn’t look away. We just stared at each other, that connection burning between us like light refracting through stained glass.

Neither of us blinked. Neither of us breathed. Our noses were nearly touching. My heartbeat pounded in my chest, perfectly in time with his.

“Aefe,” he murmured.

It felt so good to hear his voice. I couldn’t speak.

His hand lifted to my arm, skin against skin, a touch that only further awakened this torrent between us.

And then he said, “I can’t get up.”

“What?”

I looked down and realized that I was draped over Caduan’s body.

“Oh.” I pulled myself off of him. Together we staggered to our feet. Our power still roared. I could see the veins of life running through everything around me. It was intoxicating.

Is this how Caduan felt all the time? I knew he was powerful, but this—

I glanced at him. He stared down at his wrist, at the bleeding mark, brow furrowed. Then at me. Back again. “What did you do? Why does this feel so…different—”

There was a crash in the distance, yanking him away from his half-finished thought. His gaze snapped to the sound — a collapsing building — and his expression went rigid, as if for the first time truly taking in the horror around us.

He didn’t need to speak. I could read it in his face: Not again.

“No,” I said. “It won’t be. I swear it.”

“The inn,” Caduan said.

I whirled in the direction of the inn, which had once been nestled high up in the trees, and my stomach plummeted as I saw nothing there but flames and splintering wood.

Siobhan. Ishqa. Ashraia. If they were—

No. I didn’t have time to let myself think about that. We just needed to get there.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Now.”

Caduan and I wove through the city, dodging falling debris. It was not easy to get back to the inn. The roads were blocked. Caduan’s magic pulled me in a hundred different directions at once. Humans surrounded us, and though I could not see their faces through the flames, I could feel their vile presence, like snakes coiling in the brush. My blades were out, and I fought through them, one after another after another. How fragile they were. How quickly they fell. I barely felt the wounds they left me as parting gifts.

I wasn’t sure how long it had been when I stumbled, disoriented, and Caduan grabbed my arm to steady me.

“Focus,” he said. “You’re running in circles.”

It was easier said than done. The air was strange and thick. The fire moved unnaturally, as if it were alive. Human magic was capable of so much, so harsh and violent. I had never seen it with my own eyes before, and it made a pit coil in my stomach. Fey magic was powerful, but I had never seen it inflict this kind of frenzied violence.

“There,” I panted, at last, thrusting my blade to our left. I could make out the shape of the inn caught in the trees halfway to the ground, burning but mostly intact. Surely, I told myself, our companions had survived that. We pushed towards it, beginning to scale a pile of debris that blocked it from us, when a fresh set of screams cut through the air.

Caduan whirled around. I felt his attention shift, like someone had yanked on the magic we shared.

In the distance, silhouettes clashed. Humans circled a group of Fey who were trying to escape. One look at the Fey told me they were merely travelers, not fighters. They would not last.

Caduan turned to me, jaw set. His hand tightened around his sword. He did not have to say anything.

“Let me lead,” I said. “You’re still hurt.”

He just shook his head, as if this was a silly statement.

We launched ourselves into the fight side by side. We rose up behind the humans like shadows in the mist. Our midnight training had paid off. Caduan was swift and lethal, and we fought well together, intuitively covering each other’s blind spots and weaknesses. His magic still pulsed in my veins. Our connection ran deep, as if we spoke a wordless language that only the two of us understood.

Bodies fell around our feet like autumn leaves. I relished every single one. I caught Caduan’s eye and the look on his face sent a shiver of satisfaction running up my spine.

We were winning.

I spun, ready to deal a killing blow to another human soldier—

And then, suddenly, I was blown through the windows of a fallen building, shattered glass raining around me.

My back slammed against a wall.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move, as if my control over my body had simply been severed. My thoughts felt as if they were moving through sludge. Pain tore through my abdomen. I looked down. For a moment my mind couldn’t reconcile what I was seeing.

A wooden handle. Violet blood.

A spear. A spear in me. A spear through me, pinning me to the wall.

There was a sudden crack. The earth beneath me shattered. It was nearly impossible to see in the darkness, but what I could make out through my blurring vision were several stones hurling at me through the air, and beyond them, a silhouette with their arms lifted.

No. No. If I was to die, I would die dragging them down with me.

But then a voice rang out in a language I didn’t understand. The rocks froze. The silhouette stopped, turning, replying.