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

by Carissa Broadbent

At least I was doing something, unlike Max, who seemed fairly committed to doing absolutely nothing, ever. On a particularly cold day, he stepped outside, shivered, looked up at the sky, and declared, “I’m not made for this,” before wandering back into the house. I quickly learned that Max was apparently only “made for” an exceptionally narrow set of environments, temperatures, activities, and interactions.

I pressed my finger beneath one eye, pleased with myself. “I see you, Max. You are no great question.”

“Nosy, nosy.” My hand stopped. I pressed my finger to the tip of my nose, raising an eyebrow. “Nose-ee?” Aran was a strange, strange language. “It’s a term for someone who sticks their nose where it doesn’t belong. The definition might as well include your name.”

“I figured you should have something both beautiful and functional, like you.” He said it so quickly that it almost didn’t register. I whipped my head around to look at him. “Max,” I breathed, touching my heart with exaggerated awe, “you think I’m functional?” A dancing smile glinted in his eyes. “I think,” he said, “that you are breathtakingly functional.”

“You are the best of men, Maxantarius Farlione, no matter how much you try to convince the world otherwise. Promise me that you’ll keep fighting your battles even if I lose mine.” “You won’t—” “Promise.”

She deserved epics.

“I know only some of that answer. Some, you will have to explain to me, mysterious snake man.” I chuckled. The vibration of it ached. “Mysterious snake man. You shall now always address me by this title.”

“So, mysterious snake man–” “Ascended above, give me a minute, demanding rot goddess.”