Six Scorched Roses (Crowns of Nyaxia, #1.5)

by Carissa Broadbent

Here’s the thing about the God of Abundance. Abundance wears many faces. The god of plenty is also the god of decay. There can be no life without death, no feast without famine.

He looked at me the same way that he looked at those dead crops. Like I was the corpse of a dream, buried in everything he couldn’t save.

“It appears,” a deep voice said, “a little mouse has made its way into my home.”

Vale’s voice startled me. My eyes flicked back to him. He was now looking at me as he had looked at that rose—pulling me apart, petal by petal.

“After so long, you realize that knowing things doesn’t especially matter very much. Knowledge with no context is meaningless. That’s not the real treasure.”

vale kinda ate

My love gave my sister nothing. But my work gave her a chance.

Magic was fickle and temperamental, just like the gods.

“Time, Vale,” I said. “Time is the most valuable resource of all, and some of us are perpetually short.”

“The House of Night,” I said. “The Rishan and the Hiaj are always fighting, aren’t they? Struggling for power.”