The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)

by Carissa Broadbent

Faith wasn’t just about a church and a god. It was about your connection to those who shared that belief with you.

Eternity was such a terribly long time to be alone, and no soul—especially not a child’s—deserved such a thing.

“Feels good to fix something again, doesn’t it?” Goddess, it did. Like a drug.

“No matter what’s ahead, never sacrifice the messy parts of your mortality, Asar. I like those the best.”

Once, the sight of it would have brought the collector in me to my knees. But when my knees hit the ground now, it wasn’t for the eye. It was for her.

The prince did not grieve his own life. He grieved that dream.

“I already told you that I would never watch you die again.

You are the sacrifice I will not make, Mische. You. Don’t ask me to apologize for that.”

“I like your mortality,” she said softly. “Don’t wish it away.” Mische did not have to know that I had already signed away my mortality. And that price was nothing compared to hers.

I felt so alive. And yet⁠— And yet, death still loomed over me.

And I didn’t feel like I deserved the note of admiration in his voice.

I choked a laugh. “Fierce?” But he was stone serious. “Yes, fierce. For nearly a century now I’ve seen you protect the people you love. That’s ferocity.”

“I know that look. Like his entire world was ending. No wonder the man is about to go rip apart the fabric of the universe for you.”

“I know what it looks like when a man is gone. And he is so far gone for you.”

“If I ever hurt her,” I said, “I’d hand you the blade myself.”

Perhaps the only person I’d ever met who reveled in finding another magical problem to solve as much as I did. I wanted to watch her forever.

Fear settled over me. True fear. It had been a long time since I had been afraid of the creations of the underworld. Even at its most terrible, it was my territory—I knew its dangers the way I knew the darkest parts of my own soul. This was a horror beyond them all.

“We can’t change what we’ve done in the past,” I said. “But there’s still a whole damned future out there waiting. You and me. We’re in this together. I need you to believe in this with me.

“If we do this. Promise me you won’t let it take you away.”

I really, really didn’t think it worked that way. But it was hard to argue with a beautiful man kissing my neck, so I gave it my best try, anyway.

“I have never wanted anything so fiercely, Dawndrinker. Not ever.”

I no longer cared to find Alarus’s heart. I cared only to find my own.

Everything I had done was to avoid this. But all along, it had been inevitable. It would always end here.

Where are you, Mische? Where are you? At last, at last, I found her. When I saw her, the world stopped.

Mische had sacrificed her life to save millions. To save the very vampires who now offered her up as a cruel bargaining chip.

I felt her pain and her grief. I felt her fury and her determination. And even now, above all, hope. I was awestruck by her.

I was a man who was in love with a woman, and I understood that love would never be beyond fear.

A thousand invisible souls called my name. Yet I heard only one. I looked over my shoulder one last time, at the dead woman reaching for me.

“He’s gone,” I whispered. And it was only when I said those words aloud that I really felt them, deep in my soul. The absence of him, like an organ had been ripped from my body.

The memory of sitting among these flowers, beside a soul who felt like sunlight, lingered just out of reach.

He knew that once this place had meant much to him. Now, he found it hard to remember why. Still, it called him back night after night.

He was looking for something, even if he couldn’t explain what; he was answering a call, even if he could not hear what it was saying.

“You will make mistakes,” I murmured. “And I will love you anyway.”

“I never told you how much it meant to me,” he said. I smiled. “Yes, you did. Not with words. But with something even more valuable.”

Asar said, “I have something that I’m supposed to give you.” He withdrew his hand from his jacket and held it out. There, throbbing faintly in his palm, was a heart.

“It’s perfect,” I whispered. “I will treasure it forever.” He gave me a sad smile. “It always belonged to you,” he said.

😭😭😭

Do not fear yourself, Morthryn whispered. You are a queen. Your kingdom stands behind you.

There was little that gods truly cared about. But theft of what they considered theirs was universally offensive. And now, his nerves raw with his fresh failure, the god was furious.

“You won’t do it,” she said. He should. He understood, in a knowledge that went beyond logic, that this person was the one thing holding him back from the ultimate power of his divinity. A challenger, and a shackle.

Do it, do it right now. Take the power, take the heart. It was always meant for you. He had prayed she would understand. She had become everything he dreamed she would be. Had known she could be.

“I love you, Asar Voldari, Warden of Morthryn, king of the underworld, heir of Alarus. I love you, and in this life or the next, worlds mortal or divine, I will never let you go.”

I had walked the path to divinity; I had walked the path to death. And yet, here, in her presence, I was overwhelmed.

My queen. My light. My darkness. My future. The answer to every question. The ending to every sentence.

So foolish, for someone so all-seeing. It wasn’t my fragility that suffocated me. It was hers.

“In some, your endings are pleasant. In others, painful. But how curious, that in every one, you change the world together.”

Now, instead of standing watch over knowledge, he stood watch over me.

“I could not let you go, Dawndrinker.”

“I told you that strength is measured by the sacrifices we refused to make,” she said softly. “You were mine.” I squeezed her hand back, my response silent but unmistakable: And you were mine.

“It can’t be helped,” Asar said drily behind me. “She’s a force of nature.” But when I glowered back at him, his eyes sparkled with a smile, like he had never seen anything so lovely.

No. A letter couldn’t offer closure. Couldn’t invalidate every wrong or soothe every hurt. But it was an imperfect something.