Page 17 of Children of Fallen Gods

Zeryth smiled as he rolled down his sleeve. “Nothing is impossible, Max. The people in this room should know that better than anyone, by now.”

Impossible, a part of me still insisted — the part of me that wanted so desperately to be right.It can’t be done. Impossible.

Tisaanah moved so silently I didn’t realize that she had stepped forward until she was leaning past me, pressing her palms on the table as she stretched towards Zeryth. Her face was utterly calm, and yet, her eyes were so bright, like something inside of her had lit on fire.

“I signed your pact,” she said, her voice quiet and sharp. “I will fight your war. I have no choice in this. But know that I’ve defeated more powerful men than you, Zeryth, and in the end their desire for power only made that easier.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Zeryth said. “I’m realistic about the risks I face. I’m protecting myself. Don’t pretend any of you would be doing anything different, if you stood in my place.”

I wouldn’t. And that’s why I would never stand where he stood.

His fingers brushed the crown, absentmindedly, and a flicker of thoughtful uncertainty crossed his face.

But then that smile was back, easy and careless. “Do you know what power is?” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Power is sitting here alone in a room with four people who want to kill me, and knowing I’ll walk out alive.”

Chapter Six

Tisaanah

Iremembered very little about my life in Nyzerene before it fell. I was so young when we fled, my lost country reduced to fragmented sensations burned into my memory. Sometimes, moments that I didn’t realize I remembered would come roaring back at the most unexpected times. Now, as Max, Sammerin, and I strode through the hallways of a beautiful house that I had never been to before and yet recognized more clearly than my own homeland — as Reshaye roiled and hissed in the back of my mind, awakened by the sheer force of my anger — one of those lost images bloomed to life.

My father had kept a little, useless metal contraption on his desk, a series of interlocking brass rings that went on in perpetual motion. The night the capital of Nyzerene was conquered, I had been standing in his study, my fingers clutching the edge of the desk, watching those rings swing, swing, swing, the only thing in my world that remained a certainty.

That was what my mind felt like, now. Something that needed to keep whirring away, because if it stopped, too much would shatter.

My fists were curled at my sides, fingernails biting my palms.

Zeryth’s words echoed in my ears.

If I die, so does she.

How casually he said it. How easily my life became a piece in his game, something to be played with and bartered away, something that ceased having value the minute it was no longer useful to him.

{It has always been that way,}Reshaye whispered. It reached for a memory — Esmaris’s face as he told me,You are worth one thousand gold.

Max walked fast, his eyes straight ahead, as if by not looking he could avoid his surroundings. Not that I could blame him. I could see the ghosts of his family out of the corners of my eyes, edges of Reshaye’s frayed memories catching on every doorway or hallway or painting we passed. And still, the beauty of it was undeniable — mind-boggling, even, to see it firsthand for the first time. Every inch of the interior displayed the same delicate, elegant craftsmanship on the outside. Brass, carved columns separated the hallways from the ballroom below, the floors composed of complex mosaics, the doorways immaculately crafted from mahogany. Art adorned all of the walls, paintings that I could only catch glimpses of as we walked.

His hand found mine and held tight, as if he was afraid I would be pried away.

Without hesitating, he led us down a spiral staircase, then through a stunning atrium filled with light flooding in from a glass ceiling until we reached a set of double doors, which he barreled through immediately.

A wall of cool, moist air hit me. The sky was overcast, darker now than it had been when we arrived. Max’s pace slowed slightly. We were in a garden, crossing a large stone patio with pathways shooting off. Mountains loomed over us. I could see what looked like military forts dotting the horizon, less than a mile away. There was more activity out here than I expected. Uniformed soldiers clustered across the landscape, and many more still were traveling to the bases in the distance.

“Zeryth said he came here to gather loyal troops,” Sammerin muttered. “I suppose that was accurate.”

Max swore beneath his breath. His stride did not break. Heads turned as we passed, whispers rising.Is that Maxantarius Farlione? I didn’t believe he’d really…

“Now what?” Max finally ground out, so low I almost didn’t hear him.

Now what?That was the wrong question to ask. I knew exactly what would happen next. I would fulfill the pact I made to the Orders. I would fight Zeryth’s war, even though he betrayed me, even though he now used my life itself to manipulate the people I loved most. Even though I hated him almost as much as I had hated the Mikovs.

He would do all of that to me, and I would still hand him everything he’d ever wanted.

But I didn’t get the chance to voice this, because suddenly, Max stopped short. His gaze snapped to one of the groups of soldiers in the distance, brow furrowed, a look on his face that made my heart still.

“What is it?” Sammerin asked, just as Max began striding across the path.

“Moth!” he bellowed.

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