The Ashes & the Star-Cursed King: Book 2 of the Nightborn Duet (Crowns of Nyaxia, 2)

And then I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Didn’t realize just how lucky I am to be alive until I saw that.”

Raihn.

I squeezed my eyes shut, quickly swiping away tears. Fuck.

“Right,” I choked out. It sounded pathetically weak.

“You sound out of breath, though.”

Oh, fuck him.

“I’m just out of practice.”

“Want a partner?”

“No.”

He approached anyway.

I still didn’t want to look at him, embarrassed about what I’d allowed him to see. Me crying and punching the air like a child. Nice.

But his silence was too long. Too meaningful.

Finally, I turned to him.

“What?” I snapped.

He opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it.

“Nothing. You sure you don’t want to spar? Better than punching the dummy. Going to have to train with me eventually.” He reached for his sword, raising a brow. Only now did it occur to me how strange it was that he always kept it on him, even when he was walking around his own castle. Maybe he felt just as uncomfortable in this place as I did.

He added, with a conspiratorial half-smile, “I’m only offering because I don’t see any windows you can throw me out of this time.”

I didn’t know why I hesitated. I did need to remind myself of how Raihn fought—needed to make sure I would be able to strike him down when I had to.

And yet… it made me uncomfortable.

I shoved that sensation away and bit out, “Fine. If you want to spar, then let’s spar.”

And I didn’t give Raihn time to react before I lunged.

But he was ready. He blocked and countered me easily.

All of it was easy—that was what made it so difficult.

When I had fought Raihn in the armory, I’d so hated to be reminded of how well we knew each other, how seamlessly we fought together. Now, wielding my blades rather than that clumsy sword, the ghosts of our final battle in the Kejari surrounded us. The ache of my muscles faded away. The two of us hurtled across the training ring together as if locked in a dance.

I hated this, and I loved it. It was something solid to grab onto, something mindless and painful in all the physical places I could handle. And yet, every one of Raihn’s strikes reminded me of the familiarity we’d once had. Reminded me of what he had used it to do.

A month.

I let out a wordless grunt of exertion as the clangs of metal against metal came faster, faster, faster. I saw his mouth twist, just a little—heard what he didn’t say aloud: There she is.

The Nightfire erupted around me, this time not just clinging to my blades and my hands, but embracing my entire body.

Raihn jerked backwards, his arm flying up to shield his face, and that was enough to yank me from my trance.

Awareness of my body crashed back into me. My panting breath. Burning lungs. Screaming muscles. Just as quickly, the Nightfire withered.

I stumbled to the ground as Raihn raised his sword in a yield.

He was panting, too. He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “That,” he said, “is impressive. Seems like it comes to you a lot easier than it did before.”

Thank you didn’t feel like the right answer. I inspected my blade, polishing it with my sleeve.

“Did you do that on purpose?” he asked.

It was the kind of question that was really a statement, and that annoyed me.

“When I first got my Heir Mark,” he said, “everything just… rearranged. I still can’t describe how different I felt afterwards. And then, when Nyaxia…” He flinched. Shrugged. “It just changes a lot. It was like I didn’t know what my own body was capable of anymore.”

His words rang uncomfortably true. But he didn’t ask me if I felt that way, too. Maybe because he already knew the answer.

“You’re half vampire, Oraya,” he said quietly. “Not just half vampire, but an Heir. Have you thought about what that might mean?”

I lifted my gaze to meet Raihn’s, steady with that open question, and with that look, I had to acknowledge all the other things it meant.

It meant I no longer knew anything about myself. My magic. My lifespan. My blood. The limits of my own flesh.

It meant that my entire life had been a lie.

I didn’t say anything, and Raihn—to my relief—did not push. Instead, he offered me his hand. I didn’t take it and pushed myself up on my own.

He huffed a laugh and shook his head as he turned away. “Never change, Oraya. Come on. Let’s go.”

“I wasn’t done.”

“You look like you’re about to collapse. You can come break yourself again another time.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Maybe you’re due for a trip to the human districts? You look like you need to kill something.”

“Oh, I need to kill something,” I muttered. But as much as I wanted to argue with him, I was exhausted. So I followed.

“What’s so important?” I asked, as we walked down the hall.

“I found your bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?”

Ugh. Just when I’d gotten freedom for the first time in my life?

He chuckled. “Even I have bodyguards, princess. You think I’d let you wander around this pit of beasts alone?”

“You sound like him,” I grumbled, and tried not to notice how Raihn’s smile disappeared at that.

He led me all the way back to our rooms. He opened the door to his chambers and beckoned.

“Meet your bodyguard.”

The words weren’t even out of his mouth before Mische was pushing past him, the grin on her face bright enough to light up the darkest corners of the castle.

And Goddess damn me if I didn’t find myself returning it.

Raihn put his hand—gently—on her shoulder, as if to physically restrain her from throwing herself at me. But she caught herself at the last minute anyway, stopping short of hugging me and instead offering me an enthusiastic, if awkward, wave.

“I missed you!” she blurted out.

Honestly?

I’d missed her, too.





Raihn was, to my genuine relief, mostly exaggerating when he said that Mische would be my “bodyguard.” She wouldn’t be shadowing my every move, but if I accepted, she’d be given the other bedchamber in my apartment and accompany me on trips.

“I don’t need to be watched,” I grumbled.

At that, a little wrinkle of concern had formed over Mische’s brow.

“If you want me to go somewhere else,” she said, “I can.”

I glanced at Raihn. “I don’t think it’s up to me.”

He replied simply, “It is up to you. Tell her to find another place, and she will.”

Ugh. That seemed so… cruel.

“Why doesn’t she stay with you?” I asked.

“I snore.”

Mische sighed. “He does. He really, really does.”

I knew he did, because I’d heard those snores every day for months, myself.

“Besides,” Raihn said, “if it’s not Mische, then I’ll have to find another guard for you. One of Ketura’s, if you’d prefer that.”

I glared at him, and he half-shrugged, adding, “Act of war, and all that.”

Mische stared at me like a stray puppy begging to be let inside.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Fine,” I muttered, as Mische grinned and started dumping her clothing into the drawers.





17





ORAYA





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