Page 165 of Children of Fallen Gods

My mouth fell open. Orin said this statement — thisridiculousstatement — so simply, as if it were some unremarkable fact.

“She did not,” I said, before I could stop myself, and Orin’s brows lurched.

“Yes,” he said. “She did.”

No. Absolutely not. There must be some mistake. He had to be talking about a different Sareid, because my mother — my graceful, half-mad mother — could not possibly have lived in Niraja, of all places.

I started to shake my head.

“Sareid did not agree with the exile that was handed down to Niraja,” he said. “She did not agree with many positions in the House of Obsidian. She fought them for a long time, but then she got tired of fighting. So, she came here.”

“She couldn’t,” I rasped. “She was a Teirness. She wouldn’t leave.”

“She did indeed. She could have made the House of Obsidian a whole new kingdom, if she wanted. Perhaps one that coexisted with… all of this.”

He gestured out, towards the Nirajan skyline, but I shook my head.

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Orin gave me a curious look, a hint of sadness on his face. “Tell me,” he said, softly, “how is Sareid now? Is she someone who truly seems so at-odds with what I’m telling you?”

“Yes” wasn’t a strong enough word. “She wouldn’t do that,” I said again, and that response seemed to make that sadness wrench deeper into the lines of his expression.

“Sareid was nothing less than visionary, Aefe. She had such dreams for what the House of Obsidian could be for so many people. I’d never— I still have never known anyone as…” Words seemed to elude him, and yet, his eyes had gone far away, as if so lost in memory that they seemed insignificant.

“You…” I choked out.

You loved her.

I didn’t say it aloud, but we both heard it. Orin’s wince and pointed silence told me everything I needed to know.

“Tell me why my father attacked Niraja.”

I didn’t know why I asked. A part of me knew the answer, and dreaded hearing it. A part of meneverwanted to hear it.

“He attacked Niraja to bring Sareid back,” Orin said.

My eyes were stinging.

“That’s not true,” I said. “He attacked this place because it is corrupted. Because the blood is corrupted here.”

Orin winced. “Aefe…”

I lurched back. “Why do you know my name?”

“Because I—” He stopped himself and swore under his breath, a certain tone that started high and ended low, and hearing it that way was like hearing an echo of myself.

No.

“Sareid was pregnant when she was taken,” he said. “And I—”

Taken. Not rescued. Not left.Taken. As if she had been kidnapped. As if my father had dragged her back to the Pales, had locked her up in black glass until her mind broke, until she was just a shade of—

And if Orin was—

If Orin—

Caduan’s words unfurled in the back of my mind:You are not as easy to control as your sister.

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