Page 108 of Children of Fallen Gods

“Don’t you dare say awordof my sister.”

Regret unfolded across his face immediately. “I—”

“And don’t youdarespeak 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 heneverwould 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. There was warmth spilling over my right arm, where he pressed against me. Blood. His.

I wasn’t prepared for the wave of panic that realization brought me. My hands clamped to his side, trying to quell the bleeding.

“You’re hurt—”

But Caduan didn’t seem to care. There was something more urgent than pain etched into his expression.

“Humans,” he ground out.

It was the only thing he had time to say before there was a hideous cracking sound, and the floor fell out beneath us.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Tisaanah

Iwasn’t sure what, exactly, I was expecting. Perhaps some fortress of iron bars and twisted steel, or a dark tower shrouded in storm clouds. But when Max drew his Stratagram and we landed on a slab of ivory surrounded by a churning sea, my words died in my throat.

The building was made out of polished white stone, so tall that its peak faded into the ocean fog above us. The sides were slightly slanted, and the waves roared against them, like fists to an unyielding door. There were no windows, no openings at all, save for a single tall, narrow black door.

The walls were covered with carvings. As we stepped closer, I realized that they were not images but symbols — a language I had never seen before. As the light hit them, sometimes they would catch sudden flashes of silver or black or a bone-chilling red.

Reshaye recoiled.

{This is a terrible place,}it hissed.{An evil place.}

I winced, pushing back its protests. But it was right — everything here felt unsettling.

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