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

by Carissa Broadbent

  Moth just stared at me. Waiting for an answer — demanding one.

  Good question, Max. Is that what you’re doing?

  “No,” I said, at last. “No. It’s not.”

  Something I couldn’t identify flickered in Moth’s gaze, like he was caught between two warring versions of himself — Moth, the righteous adult, and Moth, the unsure child.

  “None of them know what’s going to happen next,” he said. “Not even the older ones. I think even Essanie and Arith are scared, even though they don’t show it. Everyone has been asking about you. They trust you. All of them trust you.”

  His words burrowed deep. Not so long ago, it would have been downright nightmarish to hear them, because there was nothing I wanted less than to be entrusted with something so precious. I wanted to tell him, If they trust me, they shouldn’t. I’m not worthy of it.

  Instead, I said, quietly, “You won’t be alone, Moth. Whatever happens.”

  Moth didn’t look like he believed me.

  I lifted my chin to the others, who had set off into the night. “You’d better catch up. If you’re late, you’ll be in more trouble.”

  Moth still stood there, tight-lipped, and I thought he might argue. But then he just turned to Tisaanah, gave her a little smile and a polite, “Goodnight, Tisaanah,” and followed the others.

  I watched the group of young men hurry down the street until they turned around a corner, a tightness in my chest that I couldn’t shake.

  They were new recruits. Young. Untrained. No rank to speak of. No family names to protect them. If war came, they would be the first to be thrown at the feet of the enemy. The first lambs to be sacrificed.

  I closed my eyes.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, beneath my breath.

  “I know what it looks like when people trust their leader,” Tisaanah murmured. I almost laughed. Figured that it took less than an hour for my own words to be turned back on me.

  “I’d rather not be one,” I said.

  “If only we all got to be what we wished.”

  I opened my eyes to see hers already picking me apart. In the silence between us, our fantasy disintegrated and floated into the night sky like dust. Neither of us had to acknowledge its departure. We both knew the dream was gone, replaced by duty.

  It was nice while it lasted.

  I sank down onto a street bench. “Then what, Tisaanah? What do we do with all of this? We either do Nura’s insane bidding or turn ourselves over to a Fey man we met five minutes ago. Are those our options?”

  “If what Ishqa told us is true…”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “He could bring back my magic. Or try.”

  “If by that, you mean bring back a vengeful Reshaye and kill you and probably turn you over to this omnipresent immortal threat looming over us, then likely yes. Sounds fantastic.”

  Tisaanah rubbed her temples in a way that told me she’d had the same thoughts. “But I am useless without magic. No matter what we decide. And he did not seem like he was lying.”

  A part of me wanted Tisaanah to be useless, or at least useless to all the people who just wanted to use her for the power she carried. “Even if he’s not lying, there’s a world of difference between that and the real truth.”

  A humorless smile flickered over her face, nearly a wince. “And a world of difference between one person’s truth and the right thing for everyone.”

  I scoffed. Ascended, didn’t we know it. More than ever, now.

  “Perhaps we could try to make things better from the inside,” she said, weakly. “Guide Nura. Control her worst impulses.”

  The image of Nura’s face flashed through my mind. I had never seen her look quite like that. I had already lived the consequences of what she was capable of. The idea of her pushed to true desperation? Terrifying.

  I shook my head. “No. Nura’s not an easily manipulated person. We couldn’t control her, not as long as she has all the power.”

  A long pause.

  “Perhaps we wouldn’t need to,” Tisaanah muttered.

  “Hm?”

  She didn’t answer. She rose. Paced slowly. She wouldn’t look at me.

  My eyes narrowed. “Let me into that brain of yours, Tisaanah.”

  “Perhaps we are making an assumption too soon.”

  And only then did she turn to me. Her eyes were a little too wide, bright with an unmistakable sheen.

  I knew immediately what that meant. A plan. Tisaanah did love a plan.

  I braced myself. “And what would that be?” I asked.

  “I will warn you,” she said, “you are going to want to say no.”

  There was a buzz in the back of my head. If I were to inspect that buzz a little closer, I’d find that it wasn’t the now all-too-familiar buzz of a headache, or of exhaustion, but instead a voice — a voice that was whispering, What the hell are you doing, Max?

  I was dutifully ignoring that voice, probably because if I listened to it too closely, I’d find myself thinking, Actually, he has a point…

  The lobby of the Towers was bustling with activity. At the back of the room, the double doors beneath the mural of Araich and Rosira were propped wide open, and the considerable crowd filtered between the central meeting hall and the lobby. Still, my eyes landed on Nura immediately. While everyone else was in movement, like bees scurrying through a hive, Nura stood at the center of it all, still as glass.

  And yet, when her stare found mine, I could have sworn I saw her exhale even from across the room.

  I was almost insulted that she’d never once looked that relieved to see me when we were lovers.

  She pushed through the crowd to meet me. The moment we entered the Towers, Tisaanah had slipped away, now deep in a serious conversation with one of the councilors across the room. Nura’s eyes darted to her before coming back to me.

  “You came. I didn’t think you would.”

  “Neither did I.” Wholly the truth.

  She gave me a small smile.

  “I’m glad,” she said, quietly. “To have you with us. With me.”

  I had no doubt that was the truth, too.

  Nura’s hands were clenched around each other, tight enough that her knuckles were white. She always had done that when she was nervous, even if over the years she had sawed away all of her other tells. Today, everything about her appearance was immaculate, her braids intertwined neatly at the back of her head, her white Order of Midnight jacket spotless and pressed, the buttons as brightly silver as her eyes. She looked the part of a regal ruler.

  I know she had dreamed of this day since she was a ten-year-old girl, laying eyes upon the Towers for the first time. Years ago, when we were both nominated as candidates for Arch Commandant, she had stayed up all night cradling her letter as if it were a newborn child.

  And today, by decree of the council, the only remaining viable candidate — Nura Qan — would officially become Arch Commandant, and, by terrible, twisted extension, the ruler of Ara.

  Incredible, how life could follow the same paths and yet seem so utterly unpredictable.

  “How does it feel?” I asked. “To get everything you’ve ever wanted?”

  Her smile faded. “I didn’t want it like this.”

  A booming bell rang through the lobby four times, drowning out the hum of the crowd. When the sound faded, the room was quiet. People filed through the open double doors.

  Across the room, Tisaanah turned to meet my eyes. So did the man beside her — Iya, a council member that I had not spoken to in many years.

  “It’s time,” Nura said, under her breath. She gave me one final, nervous half smile and proceeded to the doors. Moments later, Tisaanah joined me.

  “This will be an interesting day,” she said, casting a glance to Nura’s back, one that was only just short of a glare. Then it softened when she looked to me.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Never.”

  Tisaanah chuckled. It was a nervous la
ugh. She nodded to the door. “Wonderful,” she said. “Then let’s go.”

  The inside of the council room looked exactly as it had all those years ago. It was large and circular, with windows near the ceiling that spilled mottled light over the seats. Most were already filled, though many of the faces in the crowd didn’t look especially thrilled to be there. Everyone was on edge.

  Everything in this room was a stark reminder of the shadow the Orders had become of what they used to be. Only a few aging members of the Council remained. Some were already seated in the front row around the round stage, wrapped in red robes.

  “I will admit, Maxantarius…”

  A smooth, accented voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up to see Iya standing beside me.

  “…I never did think I was going to see you within these walls again.”

  I gave him a humorless smile. “If I’m being honest, neither did I, Councilor.”

  “Are you glad we were both wrong?”

  Iya’s silver eyes twinkled. They were oddly ageless, and he’d always been the type to look at you as if you were being tested by criteria known only to him.

  I spoke carefully. “‘Glad’ is probably not the word. But I’ve been given a significant amount of trust by people who deserve to see it mean something, in the end.”

  “And you think you can live up to that?”

  What a question. “I…certainly hope so.”

  Iya cocked his head, staring at me. “I do, too,” he said, before gliding away to be seated with the rest of the council.

  “What was that bizarre exchange?”

  My eyebrows lurched. I turned to see Sammerin, taking a seat beside me. He looked surprised to see us, gaze darting from me to Tisaanah in obvious confusion.

  “You two decided to cut your break short to come… watch some depressing Orders pageantry?”

  “Break?”

  Sammerin looked at me like I was insane. “Yes?”

  Ascended above. I forgot there had been a break. And Sammerin knew absolutely nothing. Tisaanah and I had barely slept the previous night, and not in a fun sort of way. Time had been a blur.

  I rubbed my temples. “Sammerin… there’s a lot we’re going to have to—”

  But then Nura cleared her throat, now standing on the central stage of the chamber, and a hush fell over the room.

  “Wielders of the Order of Midnight and the Order of Daybreak,” Nura said, her voice rising to fill the room. “I am deeply honored to stand before you today as the interim Arch Commandant following the tragic and untimely death of Zeryth Aldris. I have spent my life serving the Orders, and will gladly give you the rest of it, if you will let me today.” She paced across the stage, pausing before the five Council members and bowing her head.

  “Councilors. I stand before you today asking for your blessing to officially assume the title of Arch Commandant. As we all know, the sudden death of Aldris and the pressing nature of looming threats against our country force our hands. We cannot go through the evaluation processes for other candidates, which take months at a time. I have already completed the requisite tests. I have proven myself. And following the sad death of Maia Azeroth eight years ago and the restrictions placed upon Maxantarius Farlione, I stand before you as the final remaining viable member of the sixteenth cycle candidates.” She sank to one knee, her head bowing. “I submit myself, Nura Qan, as candidate for Arch Commandant. And I ask you, Councilors, to bestow me this honor.”

  I didn’t realize my hands were shaking until I felt Tisaanah’s firm grasp still them.

  The first Councilor rose.

  “I commit the title of Arch Commandant to you, Nura Qan,” he said.

  Even from this distance, I could see Nura’s body jolt, ever so slightly, as if the sound of those words struck her with a stronger force than she thought they would.

  They struck me, too, in an entirely different way.

  The second Councilor stood.

  “I grant you, Nura Qan, the title of Arch Commandment.”

  The room was utterly silent.

  And then the third Councilor rose — Iya.

  There was a long silence. Tisaanah’s hand was so tight around mine that my fingertips were going numb. Or maybe that was just my nervousness.

  “Councilor?” Nura’s voice was small, uncertain.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “Nura Qan, I have known you for many years. In that time, I have witnessed your commitment to the Orders and to Ara. The bounds to which you will go for your rank hold no limits. As councilor, I have seen hundreds of Wielders pass through the halls of the Towers. I can name none who are as resolute, as iron-willed, or as wholly committed to her beliefs.”

  An uneasy smile twitched at the corners of Nura’s mouth.

  “Thank you, Councilor.”

  “You have many times over proven your commitment to the Orders and to Ara,” Iya said. “And for that service, we all owe you deeply. But I do not offer you the title of Arch Commandant.”

  A gasp rippled through the room.

  He turned to the audience, his silver gaze landing on me. “I call upon the candidate of Maxantarius Farlione.”

  Hundreds of stares snapped to me, gasps ascending into murmurs. I rose to my feet. I could barely feel them. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that buzz rose to a shout: What the hell are you doing, Max?!

  I did not look at the crowd. I did not look at Tisaanah, or Sammerin, who muttered a confused curse. I did not even look at Iya.

  Instead I met Nura’s eyes, eyes that were wide with utter shock. And my voice was stronger than I felt when I answered, “Maxantarius Farlione accepts the call.”

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Max

  For a moment, there was silence. Then murmurs rippled through the crowd. Even without hearing the individual words, I knew what they were saying. Disqualified, they whispered. Excommunicated. He can’t do this…can he?

  Nura was staring only at me, her eyes round, lips parted. I had seen that look before — on the faces of soldiers who looked down and realized there was an arrow burrowed between their ribs. I realized that it had simply never occurred to her that this would happen. The thought just never crossed her mind.

  She jerked to her feet, forcing her expression back into composure. “Maxantarius Farlione is no longer eligible for the title, due to restrictions placed upon him in the aftermath of Sarlazai.”

  “That is no longer true.” Tisaanah’s voice rang out beside me. She rose. “I hold in my possession a contract with the Orders. In its terms is a stipulation that Maxantarius would be released from any restrictions inflicted upon him. Anyone may read it if they wish. But Nura knows that I am not lying.”

  “Is this true?” one of the other Councilors said, haltingly.

  Realization spread across Nura’s face. She let out a small scoff. “A clean slate,” she murmured, as if to herself.

  Still, I did not look at Tisaanah. But I could hear the hint of her smile in her voice as she repeated, “A clean slate.”

  “As one of the previous candidates, General Farlione has completed all requirements, and has competed and passed in the three previous trials,” Iya said. “He is a viable candidate. Neither of them have earned the title of Arch Commandant until we conduct the fourth trial.”

  Another wave of murmurs, louder than before.

  “Then I see no other route,” another Councilor said. “On the fortnight, we will conduct the trial.”

  “No.”

  Nura’s gaze finally broke from mine. The final vestiges of her hurt disappeared, buttoned up beneath hard focus the same way she buttoned up her scars beneath her white jacket. She turned to the Councilors, hands clasped behind her back.

  “If we do this, we do it now. We have no time to waste.”

  “Now?” Iya said.

  Now? the crowd whispered.

  Now? I thought.

  “Ara is a rudderless ship,” Nura said. “A country recovering from not one
but two wars, still steeped in uncertainty. Given the greater responsibility of the Arch Commandant in such trying times, we must settle this matter quickly.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tisaanah shoot me a glance of uncertainty. And I couldn’t deny that I felt it, too. I knew when I walked into this room that I was about to do something totally contradictory to everything I had wanted for the last ten years. But I certainly didn’t expect to actually do the final trial — something that normally would have taken weeks or even months of preparation — today.

  But was I about to let Nura know that? Of course not.

  “I’m more than willing to settle the matter as quickly as the Council wishes. If that means doing the final trial today, then I am ready.”

  Sammerin muttered a curse just barely loud enough for me to hear.

  Iya turned around and gave me a stare that accused me of being a lunatic. “We need more time to prepare.”

  “We don’t have it,” Nura said.

  “If both candidates are willing,” another Councilor said, “then I see no reason why we should not put the issue to rest today. At sundown, of course.”

  They all turned to me, asking a silent question.

  Max, what the hell are you doing?

  But I just smiled.

  “Sundown,” I said.

  “Sundown,” Nura repeated.

  And we looked at each other, the battle already started.

  Sundown was two hours away. Two hours to prepare for the biggest fight of my life.

  When the meeting adjourned, a wave of people descended upon me, but I managed to slip through them and escape off to Tisaanah’s apartment with Tisaanah and Sammerin — a battle in itself. Every set of eyes was on us, and I acutely felt every stare. So I remained serious and stoic until the door was firmly closed behind us, at which point I slumped down into one of the dining chairs, threw my head back, and let out a manic laugh.

  “I cannot fucking believe,” I said, “that I’m doing this.”

  “I’m glad I’m not alone in that, at least.” With a movement that managed to be both graceful and brutish, Sammerin took a bottle of wine that had been sitting on the table, uncorked it with a whisper of magic, and poured a glass, which he downed in one gulp. Then he turned to me with a deadpan stare.