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

by Carissa Broadbent

Long ago, I told you a tale of a chosen girl who fell to the darkness. Now I will tell you the tale of a boy who was born within it.

I wasn’t angry. Anger was a fool’s emotion. It made you slow and stupid.

“Only a coward pleads his innocence to the executioner.”

“Kill you,” I repeated, scoffing. “Ignorant, to think death is the worst I can offer you.”

Whore, they had called her. It was such a dull, unsophisticated insult.

The only words my mind could conjure were, What the fuck?

You know, same

“Hello, Warden,” she whispered. “Hello, Dawndrinker.”

“Mische Iliae, Dawndrinker or Shadowborn, living or dead, I will never let you go.”

But the way he looked at me was the way my friend, my lover, had. His eyes were not those of a god or a king. They were Asar’s. My Asar’s.

And a voice, quiet and booming at once, said, “Get your hands off my wife.”

Yyyaaassss

Incomprehensible.

Like all that heavy fabric and overdesigned finery just constricted her ethereal beauty.

Get a man that complementes you like Asar

“Forgive me if I’m not exactly eager to throw you out there to go tickle the Shadowborn military to death.”

Damn masks and eyes and hearts and divine missions. This is what a true goddess looks like.

“They need to hear, ‘Even if it is your fault, I will love you anyway.’ ”

“For whatever of your mistakes, Mische Iliae,” he said, quietly, firmly, “for whatever of your faults, for whatever unintended pains you may bring this world, I will love you anyway.”

Allowed. Cute.

“I would do it a thousand times over. A thousand times, if it means that I get to hear you berate me for it here rather than imagine those words over your corpse. You are the sacrifice I will not make, Mische. You. Don’t ask me to apologize for that.”

There was no compulsion in the command. But I obeyed, anyway. Asar’s stare was steady—and yet, so painfully gentle. He always had seen too much of me. Even on that very first night.

“He makes me want a happy ending.” When I finally forced myself to look at Raihn, he was giving me a quiet, serious stare. “Is that silly?” I said. He shook his head. “No. It’s not silly at all.”

“You’re welcome here as long as Mische says you should be. But let’s be clear. If you ever hurt her, in any sense, I will peel your skin off and make you eat it.”

Oh

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

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