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

slowly unravel, his mind withering, and now I found myself wondering whether his paranoia would find new enemies to target within the shadows of his own towering heights.

But I was pulled from this thought when I noticed the way Max was looking at me, his brow creased and a single muscle feathering in his jaw.

I blinked at him. “What?”

“I found the note that was left for you that morning,” he said.

I stilled. I knew immediately which note he was talking about. The one from Fijra, asking me to visit her grandmother. The thought of it still made a lump rise in my throat.

“So. Is that where you were taken?”

I nodded. Perhaps he knew me well enough to see what I wasn’t saying, because his voice was deadly quiet.

“So it was a trap. And that’s why you wanted to go there, after the battle.”

And again, my silence was answer enough.

Max’s anger was so intense that it thickened in the air. “You’re fighting harder for them than anyone else ever would. And they turn you over to him? That’s not just cruel. It’s stupid.”

Before I could think, the justifications that I told myself spilled from my lips. “You say ‘they’ like they are all the same. It was one person. For some, it will be always hard to trust—”

“I thought I was too late, Tisaanah.” He didn’t raise his voice. And yet, the rawness in it was still enough to make me jump. “I thought that I was breaking into that palace to go find your corpse. I thought some of those Ilyzath visions had come true. I have never been that scared. Never.”

His gaze flicked up to meet mine. My mouth closed. That fear was still all over his face. And if I had been in his position…if he had been the one trapped there…

The thought of it made me sick.

“You will not get rid of me so easily.” I pushed a rebellious strand of dark hair away from his eyes, my thumb smoothing the wrinkle of his brow. “Those people were forced into an impossible position. For some, it will always be hard to believe in me.”

He dragged my palm down to his mouth and kissed it.

“If they didn’t before, they’ll believe in you now,” he said, quietly. “They looked at you like you were more than human.”

I wasn’t sure why that thought made me feel vaguely nauseous — even though it was exactly my intention.

“That’s how people looked at you, too,” I said.

And he had deserved it, that wide-eyed reverence, because he had been breathtaking.

Max flinched, looking away. He had confronted his biggest fear by showing the world what he was capable of. It was hard enough for him to do it in Threll. Now, it was out there, beyond even his paper-thin denials.

“I preferred hiding,” he muttered. “But… it was worth it.”

I leaned against him — pressed my lips against his neck, breathing in his scent. He abandoned my hand for a fuller embrace, pulling me close.

Sometimes, in moments like this, there was so much I wanted to say to Max that the prospect of forcing all of that emotion into mere syllables seemed laughable. I had spent my entire life being ripped from what I loved. My heart never could grow roots, because every few years they would be hacked away. You learn to live without them. You learn to find love where it doesn’t exist, like in the superficial kindnesses of a cruel man. You learn to accept the loss as a part of you, and pretend you don’t mourn every severed connection.

I had forgotten that it was possible for the roots of someone’s affection to run so deep, so solid. I could build a life in the branches of this tree. I could cradle a generation’s future nestled in its leaves.

But I still had so many scars. And it’s hard to dream when you’re surrounded by the ashes of loss. Hard not to wonder if whatever scraps you have left over are even worth offering someone who deserves so much.

I squeezed my eyes shut. They prickled.

“I love you,” I choked out.

Love. The word was all I had. Still, it didn’t feel like enough.

Max and I stayed there for as long as we could, until a flurry of healers began to shuffle in and out of my room. Max reluctantly left in order to undergo his own examinations, and for awhile, I was left alone. When a gentle knock came at the door, I was expecting yet another healer. But instead, a familiar face peeked into the room.

Serel.

My first thought was, I don’t want him to see me this way.

I pushed myself up, giving him a weak smile. He returned it, and a dagger of guilt twisted in my guts.

I hadn’t realized that I had been hiding so much from Serel until now, when I found myself scrambling to erect walls around my weakness. When did that happen? When had I drifted so far away from him?

“You look awful,” he said.

I batted my eyelashes. “You do know how to flatter me.”

He just gave me a grim smile, taking a seat at the edge of my bed. The seriousness of it made me think of the way the other refugees had looked at me, when I had visited them after the battle.

A sobering thought.

I had been so deep in Reshaye’s bloodlust. I’d had to give away so much of myself to keep myself standing, let alone fighting. And I had maintained control, but only barely.

Gods, I never should have gone there, especially not without Sammerin. That had been a careless mistake, one that could have ended so badly.

“Is everyone… safe?” I asked. “At the apartments? Did any of the damage—”

“None of the fighting touched us.” Serel placed his hand over mine, as if to calm me. And I felt his stare acutely as he said, “I know what happened. I know how you were taken.”

It was suddenly difficult to speak, any measured words lost in