Children of Fallen Gods (The War of Lost Hearts Book 2)

by Carissa Broadbent

  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 the Aran skyline.

  And there before us, at long last, were the Towers.

  Chapter Two

  Max

  There was a time when the sight of the Towers was comforting to me. Beyond comforting, actually — it had been inspiring. I had been amazed by their strength, their beauty, the ceaseless stability they represented. How fitting, I would think, that they were visible for so many miles. They were a beacon calling across the land and the sea, signaling constant truth. Just like the Orders themselves.

  I had never believed in anything with such unwavering conviction.

  I never would again.

  Now, I frowned as I watched the Towers come into view. We were still several hours of travel time away from shore, but they were the first piece of Ara to appear, two columns of light rising into the sky and disappearing into misty fog. The Threllians gasped and grinned and pointed.

  I could almost see another image superimposed over this one. The image of Tisaanah, before I had met her, clinging to the rail of a ship just like this, her back destroyed and her body raging with fever, utterly alone. She had probably looked at this same view and been overcome with relief — relief — because she was so certain the Orders would save us all. Instead, they’d strip us for parts until there was nothing left to take.

  Where I’d once seen strength and certainty, I now saw grotesque monuments to broken promises. Two middle fingers raised towards the sky.

  Well, fuck them too.

  She was beside Serel. He looked out to the horizon with the same bright-eyed hope as the others. But Tisaanah’s stare was a little harder, a little colder. There was a little serious turn at the corner of her mouth.

  I wondered if she was thinking of a plan. Tisaanah loved plans.

  Me? I craved the certainty of a known factor and yet acted almost entirely on impulse. My impulses were screaming at me now, though to do what, I wasn’t sure.

  “I’m looking forward to getting off of this boat,” Sammerin muttered. He leaned on the rail with elegant carelessness, even though I was almost certain he was actively trying not to vomit. “Solid ground will feel…good.”

  “Not sure if it will feel good enough to make up for whatever’s waiting for us once we get there.”

  “Mm.” Sammerin made a noncommittal noise. But he drew in a deep breath through his pipe and let it out through his teeth, sending smoke unfurling into the wind. He only smoked when he was nervous. That breath said more than his words ever would.

  I wished I was as good at hiding my anxieties. As much as I despised sea travel, there was a certain appeal to the time we had here, suspended on this boat. I didn’t need to understand Thereni to understand the Threllians’ hope and excitement. And for a few days, it was easy to get lost in it, too — especially as I watched Tisaanah. She looked at Serel as if she was never completely sure he was real. There was an euphoric delight to their interactions, like they were both so breathlessly thrilled to see each other again.

  It was nice. It made everything else feel as if it had been worth it. Because anything would have been worth it, to see her like this — to see her happy.

  Even if I could feel the shadow looming.

  I glanced over to Nura, lingering near Eslyn and Ariadnea, who looked abjectly miserable. Syrizen might be inherently unnerving — that eyeless stare just cut straight through you — but I found Nura’s silence to be infinitely more foreboding. She had barely spoken during this trip. And yet, I knew her well enough to read the hard lines of anticipation in the way she looked towards Ara every day.

  “Will you fight?” Sammerin asked. “In Sesri’s war, with Tisaanah?”

  “I’m certainly not going to let her fight it alone.”

  My answer was easy, quick. Still, it would be a lie to say the idea didn’t make my palms sweat. It was one thing to cut down slavers. Another to raise my weapon against people who just happened to follow a different leader than I did. The last war left enough marks on me. I knew too well how high the price was, and all for so little.

  “I’ll stay with her,” I said, firmly, as if to myself. “But that’s all. It’s about her, not about them.”

  Sammerin let out another puff of smoke. The Ryvenai War had torn him up, too, even if he was better at hiding the scars than I would ever be. He had grown quieter over these last few days. It was a different silence than his usual, leaden not with thoughtfulness but with nervousness.

  “You know,” I said, “I’m sure we could find someone else. If you wanted to return to your practice when we got back.”

  I said it casually, but Sammerin gave me a look that cut through my manufactured carelessness.

  “You couldn’t find anyone as good.” He gave Tisaanah a brief glance, one dark enough that I knew he wasn’t looking at her so much as what lurked hidden inside of her. “And I don’t trust anyone else to control that thing. Even though I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  A lump rose in my throat. I hated that I was relieved. Because I didn’t know if I trusted anyone else to do what Sammerin could, either. The strength of his magic — mastery of flesh — made him one of the very rare individuals who could force Tisaanah down if Reshaye got out of control. And the strength of his character made him the only person in the world that I trusted to do it.

  He hadn’t been there, the day that Nura had f
orced my mind open and decimated an entire city. And he hadn’t been there the day that Reshaye used my hands to murder my family.

  And even if he never would say it aloud, I knew that he carried that weight.

  There was nothing left to say. So instead, I clapped him on the shoulder and turned back to the sea, watching the Towers grow closer and closer, and feeling their shadows grow colder.

  “This doesn’t look right,” I muttered.

  I didn’t even realize I was speaking aloud. But beside me, Sammerin agreed, “It doesn’t.”

  Tisaanah had joined Sammerin and I at the bow. She said nothing, but I heard the uncertainty she didn’t voice.

  We were close enough now to see the port. But while the Threllian passengers were bustling with excitement, the rest of us were clustered at the front of the ship, watching nervously.

  Something was not right.

  We were too far away to see people at the docks as more than little smears of color, but I saw many, many gold jackets — the uniforms of the Crown Guard. The Towers, which loomed over us, seemed… darker than normal. Quieter. And while it was typical to see the Capital docks populated with dozens or even hundreds of fishing boats, now it was almost entirely occupied with sleek, polished ships.

  “Those are warships,” I said.

  Tisaanah gave me a glance of alarm. “Warships?” she echoed.

  As if to say, Already?

  I had to agree. I had been steeling myself for war. But I hadn’t thought that it would be waiting for us when we arrived.

  We both looked to Nura — Nura, who almost certainly knew more than she was giving up. But even she stared at the approaching shore with hard concern drawn over her face, and a hint of confusion.

  “We will not steer into that,” Tisaanah said, shaking her head. “Not with all of these people on board. I will not risk it.”

  “We won’t dock in that harbor.” I lifted my chin to one of the rowboats at the side of the ship. “We’ll go down first and see what all the fuss is about. And then we can lead the ship in.”

  No one disagreed. We readied the rowboat and settled inside. Our weapons were handed to us. As my hands closed around my staff and I passed Il’Sahaj to Tisaanah, our eyes met for just a moment. I knew we were thinking the same thing. It was here, with our weapons back in our grasps, that our suspended week of peace came crashing back down to earth.

  We hit the water with a splash. The boat held Tisaanah, Sammerin, Nura, Eslyn, and I. Ariadnea remained on the ship, watching us with her eyeless stare as I took up the oars.

  We were silent. The docks lapped closer. I peered over my shoulder to see gold-clad figures standing there, gathering as we approached. It was only once we were a few feet from the docks that I realized something was off about their uniforms. They looked similar to those of the Crown Guard, but the resemblance wasn’t perfect. There was a splash of red on their chests, a sigil that I couldn’t make out.

  That wasn’t right. Crown Guard uniforms bore no house’s sigil. Not even the Queen’s.

  By the time the boat slapped against the wood of the docks, I counted two dozen soldiers, and more were coming. A captain, who wore a red cape spilling over his shoulders, stood at the front, watching us. Two of the soldiers helped pull us up.

  No time to appreciate the way a non-moving floor felt beneath my feet. My eyes settled on the captain, and my confusion intensified.

  “Hello, Maxantarius,” he said. He gave us a tight-lipped smile. “It’s been some time. I barely believed it when I heard you were back.”

  “Elias. It’s been… some time indeed.” When I had known him, he had been in his thirties and one of the finest warriors I’d ever met. I didn’t doubt that he was still just as formidable, though now, grey streaked through the temples of his brown hair and lines pinched his features.

  I did not miss the way his gaze moved from me, to Tisaanah, to Sammerin, to Nura, assessing each of us how a soldier assessed a target. Nor did I miss the way his men held the hilts of their swords, the same look of anticipation lurking beneath quiet politeness.

  I lifted my gaze, looking past them, to the steps to the city beyond — and bit back a curse.

  The city was barricaded.

  From the distance of the ship, blocked by the shape of the docks, we hadn’t been able to see it. Wooden structures clung to the steps leading from the docks to the city. Soldiers lined them. That’s why there was no activity here — these docks had been closed.

  This was a trap. And by the way that Elias was looking at us, I could guess for whom it had been set.

  Elias gave Nura a nod. “Nura. Always a pleasure.”

  “Can you explain why you’re cornering us?” Nura replied, coldly.

  He chuckled, as if he was not at all surprised by this response.

  “It’s not my intention to corner you. And I’d happily explain why we’re here if you would drop your weapons.”

  His gaze fell to Tisaanah, examining her with a sort of curiosity that made my knuckles tighten around my staff.

  “I’d rather reverse the order of that plan,” I said.

  “There’s no need for this to get ugly.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eslyn’s spear raise, her body shifting like a cat about to pounce on a canary. “We are soldiers of the Queen of Ara,” she said. “You are committing treason by raising your weapons against us. Let us pass.”

  Elias’s brow knitted, briefly perplexed. “You are soldiers of Zeryth Aldris,” he said. “Traitor to the rightful king of Ara, Atrick Aviness. And of course, we cannot allow that to stand. Your association with Aldris makes you traitors to Ara, and to the throne. Drop your weapons.”

  What?

  None of us moved, our confusion palpable.

  Atrick Aviness? Aviness was Sesri’s uncle, her father’s brother-in-law. And what would Zeryth have to do with any of this?

  “Zeryth?” I repeated.

  “King?” Tisaanah said. “We are only—”

  If I was being optimistic, perhaps there was a chance, in this moment, where we could have resolved this peacefully. But with a single movement, Eslyn shattered that hope.

  She leapt forward, her spear poised at Elias’s throat, magic crackling at the edge of its blade.

  “Do not threaten us,” she growled.

  And just like that, Elias’s stare turned to steel. “Drop your weapons,” he repeated.

  All of his soldiers raised their swords.

  “Do not lift a hand against us,” Nura hissed.

  Time slowed. My eyes flicked to the guards behind him, all ready. I knew the way they were looking at us. Targets that had already been marked. They had never intended to let us walk out of here alive.

  “I don’t ask anything three times,” Elias said.

  It was the truth. By the time the words were out of his mouth, I saw his men already beginning to move. And I didn’t need to think before magic tore through my veins, through my staff, the blades raised.

  A split second, and I was leaping forward, blocking one strike and then another. A sword crashed against the steel of my weapon, and I found myself locked face to face with Elias, trembling as I held him back.

  “Stand down,” he commanded, through gritted teeth.

  “You were never going to let us go.”

  His mouth twisted into a set grimace. I heard the blows coming before I felt them. I blocked one, but the other landed. My knees were on the ground.

  I whirled to see another soldier raising his blade over me—

  Only for him to falter, letting out a wordless grunt of pain. He clutched his abdomen. Between his fingers, I could see black rot. And as he staggered back, Tisaanah was behind him, Il'Sahaj bloodied.

  “Do not touch him,” she ground out, as I was finding my feet again.

  No time to thank her. No time to question. No time to breathe.

  Any words I could have said disappeared beneath the clash of steel.

  Chapter Three />
  Tisaanah

  The violence cracked through the air like lightning. The thread of tension tightened, snapped, and then, all at once, it surrounded us.

  I held onto control, but only barely. Reshaye thrashed at my muscles, feeding me power, getting me drunk on it. And the anger that had surged in me when I saw those men go after Max… it was all too easy to turn myself over to it.

  My magic roared into my veins and my fingertips, flowing into Il’Sahaj.

  {This is the welcome they offer us,} Reshaye snarled. {Such traitors. Let us show them who they are betraying. Let us show them what we are capable of.}

  Pain slithered along my arm. A sword nicked me, just as I rolled out of its path. Too quickly, another soldier lunged for me, his sword raised — only to lurch to a stop, rigidly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sammerin, blade in one hand and the other raised, then closed into a fist as the man crumpled into a heap.

  Thank you, I tried to say, but I had no breath for words. Split seconds, and I whirled to block another attack, then another, and then Il’Sahaj was opening ribbons of rot on the flesh of our attackers. I fought my way to Max and pressed my back to his, guarding his weak spots while he guarded mine. He was a beautiful fighter, his movements skilled and graceful. But at the end of each strike he lurched a little, tilting his blade away from throats and towards limbs, striking to hobble but not to kill.

  Reshaye’s disapproving hiss slithered through me. {He is a coward.}

  I clamped down on its reaching fingers as it begged for more and more control, and paid for that distraction with another breathless gasp as a sword struck my thigh.

  I stumbled. In that moment of vulnerability, a flash of white leapt in front of me — Nura, slipping into the gap left by my ruined strike, her blades sliding between the ribs of my attacker. Her magic clustered around her like wisps of shadow. Even this brief brush of her presence, so close, sent unnatural fear tearing up my spine.