The Ascended (The Aesymarean Duet, #1)

by Bree Grenwich

For the quiet aftermath, when the battle ends and we must face what victory has made of us.

From their dreams came oceans and forests, mountains and stars. From their whispers came mortals. From their pride came the Aesymar, divine children who carried fragments of their makers’ power.

I'd never had the heart to tell him that sometimes I didn't know which I feared more—being discovered or spending my entire life hiding.

"But then I think about the life I've built here, the people I care about." He glanced at me. "And I think maybe adventure isn't always about going somewhere new. Sometimes it's about finding something worth staying for."

For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to be the kind of woman someone could love without reservation. One who didn't carry secrets—who could give her heart freely instead of sharpening it like a weapon.

I'd become so accustomed to taking what he offered—comfort, normalcy, affection—while giving back only what I could convincingly fake. And still, he looked at me like I was everything.

"We will make you look like you belong among gods." "I don't want to belong among gods." "No," Lyralei said softly, "but that doesn’t matter."

"I don't understand why you're being so kind." Lyralei was quiet for a moment, seeming to look right through me. "Perhaps because some of us remember what it's like to hope for something better.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Not all who serve the divine realm agree with every tradition we're asked to uphold."

"We're twins, Thais. We came into this world together." His voice was low. "If we're going out of it, we do that together too."

"You have power enough to be dangerous, but lack the stomach to survive. You still think you're the hero of this story." He leaned forward. "Heroes die screaming. Only killers ascend."

"You think you could break me?" "Break you?" His laugh was cold. "Breaking would be such a waste. I'd much rather watch you bend."

"Alchemy is based on three fundamental principles," he said. “Sympathetic resonance—like attracts like. Harmonic frequency—all materials vibrate at specific levels that must be matched or complemented for stable reactions. And a living binding agent—a catalyst that creates permanent fusion between ingredients and their user.”

"You sound like you spent a lot of time in those libraries." "More than was probably healthy." A shadow crossed his face. "But books don't share the judgement of the living."

"Grief is one of the purest emotions. When crystallized properly, it creates an exceptionally strong alchemical component."

"Right. Do you practice being this insufferable, or does it come naturally?" "Natural talent." He moved closer, ostensibly to check my measurements. "And it serves me well. I find you far more entertaining when you're irritated." "Entertaining," I repeated dryly. "Every girl's dream." "I could think of other words."

"Survive, starling," he breathed against my hair before shoving me toward destiny.

Mother always said I had the merchant's luck—bad enough to find trouble, good enough to survive it."

"Such a fascinating contradiction. The killer who melts when someone shows her exactly how powerless she can be."

"Well, I haven't cursed you yet, and you haven't stabbed me with any stars. I'd call that friendship."

“Your ship.” I blinked. “You have a ship.” “Did you think I walked everywhere?” A hint of amusement colored his voice. “I thought you just... appeared. Dramatically. With unnecessary flair.” “Only when the situation calls for it.”

“But remember, little prince, even the Warden of the Damned needs sweetness in his life occasionally.” She patted my hand. “Perhaps this one will remind you of that.” “Unlikely,” I said dryly. “I’m not particularly sweet.” “The best ones never think they are.”

“Besides, to become divine is to become other. And I never wanted to lose that part of myself.”

"Always so quick with that tongue," he murmured. "One day it will be the death of you." "Plenty of things are likely to be the death of me in this realm. I'll take my chances with sarcasm."

"Do you know why I find myself so intrigued by you, starling?" His voice was low, almost reluctant. “My never-ending wit?” I guessed with a smirk. “Or maybe my deep-rooted intellectualism?” "You see me," he continued, ignoring my attempt at playfulness. His eyes bore into mine. "Not the Prince of Draknavor to be feared, not the divine heir to be obtained, not the calculated death god that others worship or covet." His jaw tightened momentarily. "You look past all of that and see what's beneath. And then—" he took a step closer, “you have the audacity to give the truth right back to me, unvarnished and unafraid."

"I know you all love your riddles, but perhaps, you should question whether your true intention comes across clear enough to be understood. To some ears, it’s simply bad poetry."

"Understood is not the same as declared,"

traditionalists versus reformists. Those who would destroy what they fear versus those who would understand it."

"The Aesymar want the Primordials forgotten." Cynicism edged his voice. "They want history rewritten to suggest they themselves have always been. Unchanging. All-powerful."

"That's not dancing," he finally said, though there was no judgment in his tone. "That's freedom."

"Did it work? Did he change?" "No," I said. "If anything, he got worse. I didn't understand then that some people just... break something else when they're broken."

"That woman doesn't cower behind fatalism," he continued. "She doesn't hide behind martyrdom. She fights—not because she expects to win, but because surrendering isn't in her nature."

"You're the woman who stood in this very room and showed me what freedom looks like," he said without hesitation. "The one who refuses to play by rules she didn't make. You're..." He paused, seeming to search for the right words. "You're the most honest person I've ever met. Even when it costs you. Especially then."

"It's going to be a good day. I've decided," I said lightly. "Despite everything." She raised an eyebrow. "How terribly optimistic of you." "Don't worry, I'm sure it won't last."

"You were such a brat," he said, almost smiling. "So convinced of your own importance. Looking for special treatment." "If you equate the bare minimum with special treatment, I suppose you're right," I countered.

"The useful is rarely obvious, young one."

"Teller, Amara's long-suffering husband." "He means I've suffered long because of him," Amara said dryly as she moved past us toward the kitchen.

"I've known pleasures both divine and profane. But never—" he said, while his thumb began a maddening circle around my clit. "Never have I wanted anyone the way I want you."

The last of my resistance crumbled. Not conquered, but willingly demolished.

"Mortals deserve better." His voice carried the weight of ages, of countless souls who had passed through his domain. "Such cruelty leaves marks on the living that echo through eternity. I know this well."

"Oh, don’t hold back now, Warden." I demanded. "Everything." The word ripped out of him. "You made me feel everything. Purposefully. I don’t let people in, Thais, you know this. Not like this. Not like you. And then I discover you were always planning to die.”

"So serious, so worried. Don't they know the best fate is the one you never see coming?"

“You don’t understand.” He cut me off. “I love you, starling. I’m in love with you.”

"I’d wage wars for you,"

"And I'm yours," he growled. "Every part of me belongs to you, Thais. My body, my heart, my fucking soul—it's all yours."

"I'll see you before the ceremony," he promised, stealing one last quick kiss before stepping back. "I'll be the one looking like I'm about to commit several acts of treason for a woman."