The Poppy War (The Poppy War, #1)

by R.F. Kuang

Then, with a sickening pang in her stomach, she understood. Altan was not lapsing when he smoked opium. No—smoking opium was the only time when he was not in pain. He had lived his entire life in perpetual pain, always longing to have another dose. She had never understood how horrendously difficult it was to be Altan Trengsin, to live under the strain of a furious god constantly screaming for destruction in the back of his mind, while an indifferent narcotic deity whispered promises in his blood. That’s why the Speerlies became addicted to opium so easily, she realized. Not because they needed it for their fire. Because for some of them, it was the only time they could get away from their horrible god. Deep down, she had known this, had suspected this ever since she’d learned that Altan didn’t need drugs like the rest of the Cike did, that Altan’s eyes were perpetually bright like poppy flowers. Altan should have been locked into the Chuluu Korikh himself a long time ago. But she hadn’t wanted to believe, because she needed to trust that her commander was sane. Because without Altan, what was she?