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

by Carissa Broadbent

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 already learned by then that everything in this life needed to be a performance.

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 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.”

“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.”

“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.