The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms (Inheritance Trilogy, #1)

by N.K. Jemisin

But love like that doesn’t just disappear, does it? No matter how powerful the hate, there is always a little love left, underneath. Yes. Horrible, isn’t it?

One was the gate company—just men, since it was a lowly position that required only brute strength.

The other company was the standing guard, composed of women and those few men who had earned the honor, distinguished by white silk tunics under the armor.

“I built uncertainty into this universe, and Enefa wove that into every living being. There will always be mysteries beyond even we gods’ understanding—”

It is everything not sensible, not rational, not safe at all—but without esui, there is no point in living.

The younger man stepped away from the table and came toward me, his whole posture radiating menace. Every Darre woman is taught to deal with such behavior from men. It is an animal trick that they use, like dogs ruffling their fur and growling. Only rarely is there actual threat behind it, and a woman’s strength lies in discerning when the threat is real and when it is just hair and noise. For now the threat was not real, but that could change. He stopped

Then he released my neck, and my knees buckled. I fell forward, and suddenly I was buried in the soft, cool dark of him, pressed against a chest I could not see, and I began sobbing into it. After a moment, the hand that had almost killed me cupped the nape of my neck.

“You are what your creators and experiences have made you, like every other being in this universe. Accept that and be done; I tire of your whining.”

I kept at it. “We live at the gods’ mercy and shape our lives around your whims. Even when your quarrels don’t involve us, we die. What would we be like if… if you just… went away?”

“More would die,” said the Nightlord. “Those who worship us would be frightened by our absence. Some would decide it was the fault of others, while those who embrace the new order would resent any who keep the old ways. The wars would last centuries.”

“But eventually, the battles would end,” he said. “When a fire burns out, new things grow in its wake.”

He led and protected the servants here; tears would have made him feel weak. Men have always been fragile that way.

“You should leave this place, T’vril. Find yourself a good woman to take care of you and keep you in silks and jewelry.” T’vril stared at me, then burst out laughing, not strained at all this time. “A Darre woman?” “No, are you mad? You’ve seen what we’re like. Find some Ken girl. Maybe those pretty spots of yours will breed true.” “Pretty—freckles, you barbarian! They’re called freckles.”

He grew solemn. “Love can level the ground between mortals and gods, Yeine. It’s something we’ve learned to respect.”

“What will happen to me?” I asked. “After.” He was a clever child; he knew what I meant at once. “You’ll drift for a time,” he said very softly. “Souls do that when they’re first freed from flesh. Eventually they gravitate toward places that resonate with certain aspects of their nature. Places that are safe for souls lacking flesh, unlike this realm.”

“The heavens and the hells.”

They’re just… places for life to rest, when it’s not being alive. There are many of them because Enefa knew your kind needed variety.”

“Then she can stay inside me, if that’s better.