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

in a familiar body’s wake, or the fog hanging in winter air after a warm breath.

I have been looking for you, the voice murmured, for so long.

Reshaye shuddered, pulling away.

A flicker of hurt.

You do not remember me?

{What does it mean to remember? A memory is the imprint of a past story, and all of mine have been ripped away.}

The shadow pushed closer. It was difficult, I could tell, like it had to fight a rising tide.

What are you? I asked. Where are you?

My curiosity drew me closer — and then I recoiled with a gasp.

The vision only lasted for a split second, consisting of fragmented images.

I saw Ara burning, cities and palaces reduced to mere husks. A field full of corpses, piled upon each other, their flesh ribbons of rot. The oceans rising, teeming with creatures of teeth and shadow and destruction.

I saw the Threllian plains aflame, the sky black with smoke.

I saw an endless sea of bones.

And then, just as quickly, it was all gone — so fast that perhaps I had imagined it all.

The answer came in a distant whisper, as the presence faded away:

I am victory. I am vengeance.

And now, I am nowhere.

But soon, I will be with you.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Aefe

“If there is even a chance that Niraja holds the answers we need,” I said, “then we cannot afford to ignore that. Caduan is right. If we refuse to meet with them simply because of our own stubborn traditions, the cost will be unthinkable.”

Ishqa, Siobhan, and Ashraia stared back at me. I met Caduan’s gaze for a split second, just long enough to see the faintest of smiles twitch at the corners of his mouth.

“What you propose is treason.” Ashraia spat the words out like rancid food. “And we have already dismissed it. Rightfully.” He turned to Ishqa, as if already anticipating his equally-strong rejection. A rejection that I was expecting, too.

But one that did not come.

Instead, Ishqa crossed his arms over his chest, looking at me with a piercing gaze that I could not decipher. There was something different in this particular stare, something that made me want to shrink away. As if he were looking at me for the hundredth time and only just realizing that he missed some fundamental detail that changed everything.

He had not been the same since we left Yithara. But then again, none of us were.

“If you will not go,” I said, “I will go by myself.”

“And I will go with her,” Caduan added, quietly.

Ishqa’s eyebrow twitched. “What does your father have to say about that decision?”

“He supports it.”

Untrue. But I was the Teirness. Caduan was right. I had all the power I needed to make the decision on my own. And he wouldn’t even need to know that we made the detour.

Ishqa’s lips thinned. “Do not lie to me.”

I met his stare with equal intensity. Ceding nothing, and apologizing for nothing.

“I am ready to go alone if I must,” I repeated.

“Queen Shadya would not approve of this decision.”

“I know.”

“She is nearly five hundred years old. She prizes the old ways, much like your father. Change is not in her blood.”

“I know.”

And I wasn’t sure what I was expecting him to say next, but it wasn’t this:

“This is why,” he said, smoothly, “it would be best if she did not know.”

My jaw fell. Ashraia did such an intense double-take that he nearly toppled over. “Seven skies, what?”

If I hadn’t been so shocked myself, I would have burst out laughing. It took me several long seconds to wrap my mind around what Ishqa had just said.

Pristine, traditional, well-behaved Ishqa.

“That’s essentially treason,” Ashraia growled, attempting to lower his voice and doing a poor job of it. Only Ishqa’s eyes moved, shooting Ashraia a withering stare.

“As general, I was given supreme authority on this mission. Even if I were to contact our Queen and seek permission, we would not get a response for days or weeks. In light of what we’ve seen, I don’t believe we have that time to waste.”

“But the Nirajans are—”

“— the only ones likely to actually know anything. Yes.”

Ishqa’s gaze slid back to me. His face remained stoic as marble, but I could have sworn I saw a glimmer of laughter in his eyes.

“Is your mouth open because you intend to contribute to this conversation, Aefe?”

I closed my mouth and scowled.

Ishqa actually smiled.

“I’m glad you have some sense,” I sniffed.

“Some indeed.” Then he crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed me, the smile replaced with a thoughtful frown.

“Traditions may not be our only problem,” he said. “The Nirajans may not be especially welcoming to a pair of Sidnee.”

“Perhaps a small possibility,” Siobhan muttered, letting out a sarcastic scoff.

It was a fair point.

All of the Fey Houses had cast Niraja into excommunication, marking the kingdom and all its citizens as irreversibly tainted. That alone was bad enough. But the Sidnee — led by my father, when he was still just a young man — had been the only house to attempt to smite the Nirajans completely. More than half of their population had been killed by the Sidnee. It was that battle, in fact, that had earned my father his honor… and my mother’s hand in marriage.

Of its own accord, my left arm twitched.

I knew those stories well. They were inked into my skin, my tribute to my bloodline’s greatest victories. But for reasons I couldn’t understand, I now felt inexplicably uncomfortable. The Sidnee told of these stories often. The story was always the same — the brave, skilled young warrior, driving away the corrupted. And all my life, I had dreamed of leading such a conquest myself. Such a victory had earned him the respect of the Sidnee. And such a victory could earn me his respect, too.

Now? I blinked back the memory of those corpses in Yithara, split open and bleeding on the ground. Is that what it had been like?

I shuddered and shook away the thought. “We do not have to tell them