Daughter of No Worlds (The War of Lost Hearts Book 1)

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 recognized that hidden vulnerability. I nursed it in my own bones.

“So,” I said, drawing another circle. “Nura was your lover. Yes?” “Excuse me?” Max let out a strangled chuckle. “What a topic change.”

“Mother said I lacked social graces.” “She says that to me too.”

“I had forgotten that people could be that way. I had forgotten that someone, somewhere, was painting terrible pictures of their wife in a garden. I was so far gone that I didn’t even remember that that kind of mundane contentment actually existed, least of all in the same moments as such terrible things.”

Hours passed. The sun set. I lit lanterns. I wouldn’t go inside because I didn’t trust myself not to slap Max if he snickered at me.

“You look freezing,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Yes.” I saw no point in denying it. “Are you planning on going anywhere?” “I have nowhere for going.” I tried to sound very pitiful.

A victory — or a devastation — strong enough to bring triumph to a country that no longer even had a king. It had to have been something incredible.

“I don’t see why not,” I grumbled. I did, in fact, see why not.