Page 26 of Children of Fallen Gods

Max left the next day.

Zeryth hadn’t wasted any time assembling his division. I was with him when he saw them for the first time, from the balcony at the upper levels of the Ryvenai outposts. A sea of green and blue and golden coats.

Here, it all became so dizzyingly real. Max and his army would travel to Antedale, to conquer one of the most heavily fortified districts in Ara, and after that, Lishan. In between, he’d be taking a few other smaller cities as well. And from here, I’d be doing the same — fighting, conquering.

I wasn’t as worried about my own battles as I was about his.

I did not need my magic to know what Max was thinking. His hands were clasped tightly together in front of him, shoulders square, jaw set, as he watched the army prepare. He was wearing a military general’s uniform. The sun was rising, outlining his strong profile in gold. Perhaps to an onlooker, he looked every bit the noble military leader, lost in concentration.

But I had been there to watch him button that uniform jacket up and then stare at the mirror for thirty long seconds, seething resentment written over his face. And I’d felt the way his hands squeezed mine before we arrived, in a silent plea or apology, or some combination of the two. I knew that I was seeing dread, not strategic determination, in the hard lines of his expression.

I was watching him live his worst nightmare.

And it was all because of me.

We had only a few minutes alone together before his departure. When he turned to me and I knew it was time for a goodbye, my heart swelled into my throat. A tangle of Aran and Thereni words choked me.

I’d always been able to conjure pretty words when I needed to. But it was moments like these, moments when words weren’t beautiful noise but raw, ragged truths, that they overwhelmed me.

I gave him a weak smile and said, “I promise that I will stay alive if you will.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be an incentive?”

“Of course,” I replied, casually, stepping closer. “The best kind.”

“I’m glad that recent events have done nothing to dull your ego.”

The lump in my throat grew so large that I couldn’t speak. Max’s smirk had slowly faded.

I took his hands. We bowed our foreheads against each other.

“If you can do it,” Max murmured, “I suppose I can do it.” Then his eyes met mine, so close I could see every vein, every cloudy shift of color. “And you have to. Alright?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I took his face in my hands and kissed him, long, deeply. My mouth felt cold against the air when we parted, and my fingers were achingly empty when his hand slipped from mine.

I stood with Zeryth up on the balcony of the military headquarters to watch him leave. I couldn’t tear my gaze away, not even when he was a spec of green and gold in the distance. He was barely visible when he turned around one final time and lifted his hand in a wave. My eyes stung as I returned it.

I felt Zeryth’s stare, but didn’t look.

“He’ll come back,” he said.

He’d better, I thought.He has to.

“Why him?” I asked. “Why do you want someone who hates you so much to lead your armies?”

“Because he’s good.”

“I’m sure you have many good generals.”

“Maybe I chose him because he hates me, and because I can make him.”

My gaze flicked to Zeryth. There was a twisted smile at the corner of his mouth, and he leaned casually against the wall, elbow propped on stone. On the surface, he seemed as nonchalant as a cat bathing in the sun.

But I looked closer.

There was something off about it all. The lazy stance of his was practiced and deliberate, the smile a little too forced, the tone of his voice sticky-sweet with manufactured drawl.

No. It wasn’t as simple as that. Not quite.

---