Children of Fallen Gods (The War of Lost Hearts Book 2) Carissa Broadbent (best book recommendations txt) 📖

“Do you want me to leave?” I said, and he flicked a heavy-lidded gaze to me. Held it.

“No,” he said. “No, I do not.”

My eyes fell to his mostly-empty glass. Certainly not the first.

“What are we drinking to?”

A barely-visible smile. “A good friend’s birthday. One that he should be drinking to himself.”

“Oh.” I bit my lip. There would be many lonely birthdays for Caduan.

“He would have been a much better king,” he said, looking down to his glass. “It should have been him. It’s laughable, actually, that I am the one who holds the title now. Someone should have made a rule. Once you get past the tenth person in the line of succession, perhaps it’s time to give up.”

“You’re the king now. You could make that rule.”

Caduan blinked. “I suppose I could.”

“See?” I leaned forward. “Innovation, King Caduan.”

Mathira, I was drunk. Too drunk for this. I half expected him to be insulted. Instead, he let out a short laugh.

“Innovation. Yes, maybe. But even that…” His gaze went far away, face lapsing into seriousness. “I just keep thinking of how many more useful people could have lived. I knew some of the most brilliant people that have ever walked this world. When I had that corpse open on my table, all I could think about were all the more intelligent minds that could have been standing in my place, minds who could assemble the pieces I cannot. And yet I was the one who walked away.”

My mouth was dry. I took a long gulp of wine.

I was acutely conscious of the letter in my pocket, and what it forbid. Caduan wanted answers. But he would not be able to get them in Niraja.

I didn’t want to tell him that. Not now.

But when I put my glass down again, he was looking at me with that stare that stripped me bare.

“I assume,” he said, “that you received a letter from your father.”

I stiffened, and silently cursed myself for abandoning the promise of a wordless embrace for this.

My non-answer was answer enough.

“I’ll guess,” Caduan said, leaning back in his chair. “We are not going to Niraja.”

The words were thick and difficult. “We are not.”

“I, for one, am utterly shocked,” he said, and took a long drink of wine.

“I may disagree, but it is not up to me to question his decisions.”

Caduan’s lip twitched. “It’s a coward’s decision,” he muttered, into his glass.

Anger flared. I had to choke back my sharpest words. “You’re drunk,” I said.

“I am. But I’m also right.” He sat up and leaned towards me. The movement was sloppy and imprecise, and he bowed closer than perhaps he would have otherwise, his forehead nearly touching mine. Even in the darkness of the pub, his eyes were the color of light refracting through leaves — as if his anger shone through them.

“Tell me something, Teirness,” he said. “Why do you have such loyalty to him?”

“I am not the Teirness.”

“Yes, you are.”

I scoffed. “No, I’m—”

“Unsuitable? To whom? Your father holds unmatched power in the Pales. Do you think he could not have gotten them to accept you, if he had wanted to?” His voice softened. Where I had just seen anger, now I saw compassion. “Do you think other Houses do not whisper about him, Aefe? That power was never even intended to be his. It is your mother’s. And it is yours.”

I shook my head. But even as I did, a fragmented memory whispered through the back of my mind. A memory of that night, my father’s hands on my throat, the flash of white, my mother’s voice.

“My mother is not well. And I—”

“Are not as easy to control as your sister?”

I stopped breathing. I recoiled, a snarl on my lips.

“Don’t you dare say a word of my sister.”

Regret unfolded across his face immediately. “I—”

“And don’t you dare speak about my family as if you know them better than I do.”

He leaned forward, just slightly. “Aefe—"

He said my name like it was an apology and an explanation and a plea, all at once. No one ever said my name like that. No one ever had extended that sort of tenderness to me, and I liked it better that way.

And so, I didn’t need to think before I stomped it all out.

“I’m sorry that he did not give you the answer you wanted. I’m sorry that you hate him because he’s trying to make you something you don’t want to be. Because he never would let happen to our House what happened to yours.”

I didn’t expect Caduan’s expression to change as it did. He flinched, as if I had struck him. And then his eyes were bright and sharp, and his lips parted, and a certain satisfaction rose up in me — ready for the ugliness of a fight, something familiar and painful, something that I undoubtedly deserved.

But then, a deafening crash rang out.

On the opposite side of the room, where a massive window overlooked the leaves and sky, smashed glass now covered the floor. Patrons leapt up from their seats, swearing drunkenly. Confused murmurs rippled through the pub as we stood.

My eyes were not looking at the window.

Intead they were drawn to what lay on the floor: an arrow, wrapped in cloth. One end was alight with a strange flame and it was only once I stepped closer that I saw blue powder scattered across the ground where it had landed.

“What is—” I started.

I didn’t get to finish my question. Caduan grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

Just as the world went white.

Everything shattered. A bone-rattling sound shook me. My back slammed against the wall. I was on the other side of the room.

I couldn’t see — it was dark, and blue smoke hung in the air. Floorboards were crooked and splintered beneath me. I was looking up at a night sky through a broken ceiling. There was a weight on top of me. Caduan, I realized, bracing himself over my body.