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

by Carissa Broadbent

“These are still civilians,” he shot back. “Rebellion or no. These are people.”

Love a character with morals

Her lips twisted into a sad smile. “That bleeding heart will get you killed one day, you know.” Maybe, the young man thought. {Likely,} the voice whispered.

She had her magic — silver butterflies and pretty illusions, yes, but more importantly, she had the ability to feel what people wanted of her. 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.

Yaaassssss girl

I disregarded Max’s statement. It felt good to have the ability to disregard the opinion of a man.

That victory meant another’s defeat, and sometimes our own defeat. That winning meant sacrifices, and sometimes ones that even our own people were not willing to make. That in war, someone always paid.

I didn’t even think to be self-conscious until I turned around to see Max standing completely still in the water. He looked like he wasn’t even breathing, his searing gaze hurling an arrow through my chest — the intensity of it paralyzing me.

“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.”

Warmth rose to my face. My scars. I had managed to forget about them — at least for a few hours.

It was amazing, the mental somersaults minds and hearts could do to justify their actions in the name of love.

“The way I look at it,” he said, very solemnly, so quietly that his words slipped into the air like steam, “you didn’t forget what you were. I think you remembered. And I hope no one ever again has the fucking audacity to tell you otherwise.”

“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.”

Honestly? I thought he was breathtakingly functional too. He was the most breathtakingly functional thing I had ever seen.

I lifted my palm in a wave he did not return. And as I curled my shaking hands around the handle to close the door behind me, I wondered if I had just made the biggest mistake of my life.

“Men want power because it makes them feel good. Women want power because it lets us do things.

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.