Free The Iron-Jawed Boy and the Hand of the Moon (Book 2, Sky Guardian Chronicles) by Nikolas Lee

Eldanar instead of Illyria.
    “Tell me, Thoman,” Queen Onyxia continued, “what of the situation with the Unspeakables?”
    There was silence.
    The lenses all but stopped around Thoman’s head. “K’thas’s whereabouts are completely unknown. We suspect he’s hiding underground, knowing all too well we’d be able to detect his presence were he to surface. He has no access to the Darklands, however, as every entrance is heavily guarded and armed with powerful spells.”
    “And of the Twins—Solara and Spike?” Onyxia asked, lips pursed.
    Solara . Ion clenched his jaw—that green-eyed, red-haired goddess who’d taken Vinya from the world flashing before his eyes. All those locusts of hers, hissing as they stormed all around. And Spike . That stupid, thick-necked, thick-headed brother of hers. A shiver rushed down Ion’s spine at the thought of them.
    “Our spies report the Twins seeking shelter in the streets of Sol, the human citadel of the Southernlands,” said Thoman.
    A frustrated growl came from Othum, a fist to the table from Esereez.
    “As we all know,” said Thoman, “Sol is the home of the Scepter of First Light—the relic of the Old Gods the humans stole right from underneath us. They’ve used its power to infuse their weapons with god-killing magic, and have been the primary distributor of said weapons to the other citadels since the War of 2100. They’ve channeled the Scepter’s power into creating an impenetrable force field, manipulated its technology into giving them longer lives, and—”
    “So you’re trying to say the Twins are unreachable?” said Lady Borea.
    Thoman swallowed. “I am. Though my spies are keeping good track of them.”
    “How comforting,” said Vasheer.
    It was then that Ion came upon the last Illyrian at the table he had to serve—Lady Helia. Her fingers sat folded in her lap, gold bands of armor sweeping over them. She sat there, quiet and refusing to look at him, as though she’d never said anything to him at all. The iron of his jaw burned, the metal reacting to his emotion as it always had.
    But as Ion reached for the last bowl of gold pudding to place in front of Helia, Ion saw him. The gray-eyed, bald-headed boy he’d seen in the halls of the Academy was now half-hidden behind Soldune’s chair. His arms were straight at his side, eyes bright and smile creepy. Ion looked around. Is no one seeing this? But Oceanus passed right by him to serve Soldune, and Ion knew he was alone.
    Then, the boy placed a finger to his mouth, twisted in place, and with a sweeping kick, sent a gale of howling wind around the table before striking Ion in the back...and sending the bowl of pudding into Helia’s lap.
    Ion gasped, frozen in place, staring at the goddess who was sitting there shocked all the same. He flicked his eyes over to where the boy had been standing, but was no longer. An illusion of the Balance, like Father had said? Or something much worse?
    “I-I-I’m so sorry, Lady Helia!” Ion said, looking around for a napkin as though it’d do him any good.
    Ion plucked one from the table, and when he went to wipe the pudding off her dress, she stopped with a “No! I’m fine, Guardian.” She took a deep, calming breath and rose from her chair, a puddle of pudding falling to the floor with a sickening plop . “I think it’s time for me to return to my chambers, Illyrians. Father—it’s a pleasure to have you here on Illyria again. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow as well.”
    Now more than ever, Helia refused to look at Ion. She nodded to her fellow Illyrians and walked stately out of the Sanctum.
    “Well, I don’t know about everyone else,” said Lady Eos, “but that was probably the most exciting thing to happen on Illyria in months. Helia needs a good pudding bath every now and again. Always so glum that one.”
    “Here, here!” said Soldune, raising his goblet, the slabs of extra skin from his arm hanging down to the table.
    While the gods