I’d almost—
Mother, what the hell kind of daughter did that make me? What kind of queen?
“Oraya,” Raihn started, and I cringed, bracing for his words.
But then a knock rang out at the door.
He didn’t move. I could feel his eyes staring into my back.
Another knock, louder.
“Raihn?” Mische’s voice came from the hall. “Are you in there?”
Still silence.
Then, he finally rose. I didn’t look up, though I heard the door open, and Mische’s bright greeting. “Oh! You’re up!”
I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t want her to see this, too.
“What is it?” Raihn’s voice was hushed.
A beat of silence, as Mische, undoubtedly, put things together.
“It’s from Vale,” she said, matching his tone. “There’s… a problem in Sivrinaj.”
Raihn let out an exhale that was a wordless curse.
“I know, right?” she sighed. “Those fucking bastards.”
28
RAIHN
“Those fucking bastards,” I muttered.
“Mhm,” Mische agreed.
I read the letter again, fingers crumpling the parchment around Vale’s words.
The tentative peace after my performance at the nobles’ meeting could only get us so far, apparently. There had been rumblings of unrest near Sivrinaj, with some of the smaller Rishan nobles not only refusing to send their troops, but actively undermining Vale’s efforts.
I had my fair share of flaws, but naiveté wasn’t one of them. I knew that sooner or later—probably sooner—this was going to happen.
Vale didn’t directly spell out that he thought Simon Vasarus was responsible. But I knew what my suspicions were. Figured, we’d deal with Oraya’s spurned would-be Heir and then have to go deal with mine.
“So.”
One word, and I already was dreading what Mische was going to say next.
“What was that?” she asked, very casually.
“What?” I said, even though I knew what.
“What I walked in on.”
I had a headache. I didn’t want to think about what that had been, mostly because I myself didn’t know. I didn’t want to think about Oraya’s moans, or her skin, or that brief moment of vulnerability. Or the hurt in her eyes.
“Nothing,” I grumbled.
“Didn’t look like nothing.”
“It was a mistake.”
All of it.
You made me do what you couldn’t, she’d said—with actual tears in her eyes, an expression so raw and open. She had no idea, I was certain, how transparent she was, all that pain floating right to the surface.
I felt so stupid. So unimaginably stupid.
Until this moment, I hadn’t realized what I’d done. Here I was thinking that I’d made this great noble sacrifice. Thinking that I had saved her—or tried to, even if my plan had gone… differently than I’d hoped.
I hadn’t. I’d just given her something else to have nightmares about.
“I’m going to leave tomorrow,” I said. “At sundown.”
I didn’t look up from the letter—an attempted signal of I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it to Mische—but of course, it went ignored. I could still feel her disapproving stare.
“Raihn—”
“Nothing to say, Mish.”
“Bullshit.” Then again, for emphasis, “Bull. Shit.”
“You’ve got a way with words. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Look at me.” She snatched the letter from my hands, stepping in front of me. Her eyes were so big that I could practically see fire reflected in them, sometimes, when she was really pissed.
“So what’s your plan?” she said. “What’s the next step?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I thrust a palm at the letter. “Go behead all of my enemies and see if there’s a kingdom left when I’m done, I suppose.”
“First of all, you aren’t going to be able to do anything with all of this power until you stop resenting it.”
I made a choking sound that was almost a laugh. It took every shred of my self-control to keep my mouth fucking shut because nothing good was about to come out of it.
Stop resenting it.
I loved Mische—loved her deeply—but the fact that she could even say that with a straight face infuriated me. Of course I resented it. I’d been forced into this position—forced into it partially by her.
“And second,” she went on, her face and voice softening, “you can’t just run away from her. She needs you.”
I scoffed again at that. This time, the sound was more pained than angry.
“She needs someone, Raihn,” Mische said. “She’s… she’s really alone.”
That part… that was true. Oraya did need someone.
I sighed. “I know. But—”
But that person should not be me.
It felt silly to voice that. I couldn’t bring myself to, not in those words, even though it now seemed clearer than ever.
“Don’t abandon her,” Mische said. “She isn’t Nessanyn. It’s not going to end the same. She’s stronger than that.”
I shot Mische a warning look. Strange how even after hundreds of years, the mere mention of Nessanyn’s name was like a finger against a crossbow trigger, sending a bolt of regret through my chest.
“No. Oraya isn’t like Nessanyn.”
“And you aren’t Neculai.”
“Damn right I’m not,” I muttered, though I sounded less convinced than I’d like. I wasn’t like him. So why did I feel him shadowing my every move these last few months?
“Let her in, Raihn,” Mische said, softly.
I rubbed my temple. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. Yes you do.”
I caught my snappish response in my teeth—isn’t that a little hypocritical coming from you, the girl who locks up every time anyone tries to ask you anything fucking real?
But that was a childish response. None of this was about Mische.
Maybe it wasn’t even about Oraya.
“Everyone has abandoned her,” Mische murmured, her eyes sad. “Everyone.”
“I’m not abandoning her.” My words were sharper than I’d meant for them to be. “I made vows. I’m not doing that.”
Your soul is my soul. Your blood is my blood. Your heart is my heart.
I’d been struck by it even that night, the way those words felt rolling over my tongue. With so much weight.
It would be so much easier if this was the game that I tried too hard to convince everyone else it was. But I knew, deep down, the truth of what this was. I could lie to everyone else, but I wasn’t good at lying to myself, not even when I wished I could.
I turned away, studying the rolling dunes outside the window, my arms over my chest. The view was beautiful, but within a few seconds it blurred to the image of Oraya’s pained face. Her face the night of the Kejari. Her face on our wedding day. Her face when she’d sobbed at the top of that tower in Lahor. Her face just now, on the verge of tears.
I had fucked up.
From the first moment I’d seen Oraya, ready to throw herself into a pack of drugged vampires to save her blood vendor friend, I’d been fascinated by her. I told myself it was just curiosity at first—totally practical interest in Vincent’s human daughter.