Page 84 of Children of Fallen Gods

Ishqa’s eyebrows arched. Ashraia looked as if he were actively holding himself back from decking the king across the face. I had to bite back a gasp, even as I also nursed a twinge of admiration.

How easy it was, for Caduan to discard the weight of society. Every day, I felt it biting into my skin like chafing ropes, reminding me of exactly what I was and what I could never be. Every second of my life was defined by it. And yet, to Caduan, it was inconsequential.

Caduan’s gaze flicked to me. The green of his eyes seemed brighter, somehow, with the intensity of his fury.

He simply said, “Aefe?” and I was struck, yet again, by the way he said my name.

I was silent.

Perhaps a part of me thought he was right. But that was the part that I spent my whole life choking back — the part that railed against the confines of my blood, that hated my father for discarding me just as much as I loved and admired him. I did not let that part of myself out of its box. And certainly not here, when I was not a disgraced Essnera, but my father’s chosen.

“We will have to find other ways to get answers,” I said. “The terms of exile are clear. And the Teirna would never allow it.”

Caduan flinched. He turned away — back to the corpse on the table.

“We will find another way,” I said.

“Of course,” Caduan replied, dryly. “I’m sure we will.”

* * *

We rode out that day,our route unchanged. It felt strange, to do anything as planned when the world seemed to have shifted so suddenly. We barely spoke, and at night, we set up camp and retreated to our respective tents with little discussion.

I lay there, sleeplessly, for a long time. Finally, I crept from my tent and into the woods. I found Caduan easily. I thought he would be practicing tonight. Instead, he sat on a fallen tree, head tilted up to the sky.

I paused.

His eyes were closed, the moonlight spilling down over his cheeks, illuminating his profile. It occurred to me that he had a beautiful face, all those sharp angles perfectly balanced, so still that he looked as if he could be a painting.

I was still, not approaching him. Until Caduan said, without opening his eyes, “So. I suppose we now know why you are not the Teirness.”

My cheeks heated, and I was grateful that the darkness hid it.

“You aren’t practicing tonight?” I said.

Caduan’s eyes opened, and he looked at me. It was a look that could slice through stone.

“How old were you?” he asked.

I hesitated.

I didn’t want to talk about this. I rarely spoke of it with anyone, even at home. “How old was I when I found out what I am?”

“When you found out that you are an Essnera.”

I flinched — the word always felt like a strike.

“What?” Caduan’s eyes searched my face. “You dislike the term?”

As always, he saw more than I wanted him to.

“Of course I dislike the term,” I muttered. I considered walking away. It would be easier. It was what I usually did, when I was asked uncomfortable questions.

Instead, I found myself settling beside Caduan.

“I was ten years old,” I said. “A priestess found it in me. She felt it in my magic.”

I still remembered it in flawless clarity. The priestess had been kneeling before me, her fingers pressed to my forehead. Her magic had been reading mine — Sidnee priestesses were the rare Fey who had the gift of seeing deep into the magic of others, into their blood. Her eyes had been closed, and I had been watching her dramatic seriousness while trying not to laugh.

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