Daughter of No Worlds (The War of Lost Hearts, #1)

by Carissa Broadbent

“That bleeding heart will get you killed one day, you know.”

And, most valuable of all, she had the gift that her mother had given her: permission to do whatever it took to survive, without apology, without regret. She would do absolutely anything, except cry.

I had twenty-seven fresh scars that would never let me forget what I was capable of surviving — and I would, I would survive. And, most powerfully of all, I had a debt to repay. I would do whatever it took, except cry.

“Max, please. Otherwise we’d spend half our damn lives saying that ridiculous name.”

“Are you implying that I look like I’m in desperate need of domestic help?”

“What about me?” Max said. “Was it lovely to see me, Sammerin?” Sammerin placed a sarcastic hand over his heart. “Always, Max.”

Max and I sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other. “You could have that apprentice,” I said, at last. A smile quirked at the corners of Max’s mouth, though it looked like he was fighting it desperately. “True,” he replied. And then, at the same time, we both chuckled.

“Good,” he said, finally. There was a hint of a question mark at the end, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. I let my throbbing head fall back into the grass, allowing the flowers to hide my grin. Gods, I forgot how wonderful it felt to exceed expectations.

He looked… different than I would have expected, considering that his main hobbies appeared to be drinking and enthusiastically doing nothing.

“What?” I smiled at him. “If I become lost, I will never be found again.”

“I hope that whoever did that to you died a terrible, painful death,” he said at last, words hissing like steam. “And I hope that if there is an underworld, they suffer there forever.”

“I think you are better than that.” It took him a moment to respond with a quiet chuckle beneath his breath. He looked back down to his book and flipped a page as he said, “Well, thank you, not many people think so,”

“And who the hell are we,” he finally said, voice low and thick, “to carry something so precious?”

That same warmth infused his words as he said, “We made an alright team.” And we did not speak again as we lay there, grounded by the grass and earth and whispering night air, eyelids finally fluttering into a tentative sleep as the sun crept toward the horizon.

“You do not get to tell me how I should feel about what has happened to me. And what will anger do for me? Why do I need that? So I can drown in it? So I can use it as excuse to do nothing with my life?”

Because it’s too much. Because my fury petrifies me. Because the last time I got angry, I felt a man’s life wither in my hands.

“Because if I allow myself to be angry, I will never stop.”

He leaned closer. So close his nose brushed mine, so close I could count his eyelashes. And so close that I felt his warm breath across my face as he smiled and said, with the viciousness of smoke and steel, “Good.”

“I think you look nice anyway,” he said, quietly. “Thank you, Moth.”

Look. Look at everything you failed to destroy. Look at what your cruelty created.

“Max will be here soon, I’m sure,” he added, raising his voice slightly over the crowd. “Will he?” Max had said, somewhat begrudgingly, that he’d go to the event if I did. But now that I was here, I couldn’t even imagine him existing in this environment. “Oh, he won’t miss it,” Sammerin replied, and I caught only a hint of that familiar unreadable glint in his eye as he melted into the party.

“You and I aren’t so different. Lots of the people you see around you today were born with privilege, your instructor included. The world was theirs to lose. You and I, we had to claw for it. I look at you and I see a victor.”

“I do not need you to apologize for the past. I have only one question for you. What will you do to help me keep others from meeting my fate?”

“I will go with you.” He said it fast, in one exhaled breath. “We can go to Threll today. We don’t need an army. You and I could do it alone. We will find a way.”

“If the Orders offer me support, then I need it,” I rasped. “I have nothing else.” And there was no hesitation, no pause, as he stepped closer and said, “You have me.”

Not even when I realized that every time I was without her, I found myself collecting little stories and oddities to tell her about when I saw her again, like stones that I slipped into my pockets.

hallways that drowned me in open space. It was silent save for my rapid footsteps, a reminder of everything I couldn’t outrun. But all I could hear was Tisaanah’s lilting voice, from our day in the city all those months ago. I heard it over and over, following every step: If I become lost, I will never be found again. I will never be found again.

And I would barely — only barely — remember the crushing weight of my own consciousness being thrust back upon me. The shiver of Reshaye’s whisper, {Now you have no one but me.} As we tumbled together into darkness.

But they were also static and silent. They were simpler, yes, but they wouldn’t whisper stories of lost lands at night, wouldn’t joke or laugh. They were more predictable, but they had no dreams for a better future, no ambitions, no hope. And they were pretty, but they had nothing on Tisaanah’s lively beauty, the kind that changed a little each time I looked at her, as if I were discovering a new breathtaking facet with each of her expressions.

To call it strange would be an understatement. To hear fragments of the worst day of my life whispered back to me from the lips of someone who had become so precious to me. To be reminded of everything I had already lost while looking into the eyes of everything I had left to lose.

Then he cocked his head, smirking. “Perhaps next time, though, you could choose a more mundane paramour. Maybe a baker. Then we could just sit around eating pies instead of throwing our lives into such exciting disarray.” I barked a scoff, grateful to let the tension break. “It’s not like that.”

if you kill him, if you hurt him, you will never have me, either. {And why would I want you?} Because you wish to be loved, and I have loved many monsters.

“Moth, breaker of flowers, spy glasses, pitchers, and hearts,” Max mused, shaking his head. “He is your apprentice after all, Sammerin.” “He’s a little smitten, I think. But I suppose it can’t be helped.” And I tried not to notice how Sammerin’s gaze slid to Max as he said, “When I saw that red dress, I knew we were all in trouble.”

“Men want power because it makes them feel good. Women want power because it lets us do things. And imagine, Tisaanah, the things we could do with you.”

“I had forgotten that people could be that way. I had forgotten that someone, somewhere, was painting terrible pictures of their wife in a garden. I was so far gone that I didn’t even remember that that kind of mundane contentment actually existed, least of all in the same moments as such terrible things.”

didn’t exactly have a wife I could ask to flop around on benches for me, and I can’t paint for shit. But after I cried myself to depletion and sobered up, I thought to myself…” His shoulders rose in a tiny shrug as his gaze slipped back to me. “I thought, ‘Well. I can make a garden.’”

If you wanted to run, I swear we’d find a way out. And if it all goes up in flames, I’ll burn right beside you and it will still be the best thing I—”

Sammerin just looked at me, that knowing look sparkling in his eye, and raised his eyebrows slightly. “Have fun?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“…We carry many stories…” I glanced up, through all of this rushing magic, and saw the faintest outline of a figure standing with me. Blurry, faint, the shadow of a shadow of a shadow. “…So many stories, you and I…”

The pain grew so intense that I could barely think. I was being torn away, but that shadowy slip of a figure reached out and grabbed me. “…It was never meant to be this way…” it whispered. “…Take it, please, take all of it, take it away…” It

I looked up through a vicious thunderclap to see two silhouettes engulfed in blue and red, burning in silent flames, locked in a kiss. “…Someone calls for you…” Max.

{Our story is not complete, Daughter of All Worlds.}

My name is Tisaanah. I am a free woman and yet still a slave. I am fragments of many things but a whole of only myself. I am a daughter of no worlds, and all worlds. And I am not done yet.