The Serpent and the Wings of Night (Crowns of Nyaxia, #1)

by Carissa Broadbent

Hundreds of years later, historians and scholars would look back upon this moment. This decision that, one day, would topple an empire. What a strange choice, they would whisper. Why would he do this? Why, indeed. After all, vampires know better than anyone how important it is to protect their hearts. And love, understand, is sharper than any stake.

Death isn’t frightening when weighed against an insignificant existence.”

She is the daughter my heart gave me,

“At least she isn’t afraid anymore,” I said. “No,” Mische replied, thoughtfully. “I’d guess not. But she’s probably awfully unhappy, don’t you think?”

“Oraya, there is nothing stray about you. I think you know precisely where you’re going, even when you don’t know you do.”

“You’re safe, Oraya,”

Ughhhhh 😩🩷

And as if he knew—as if he sensed my fear—Raihn’s thumb traced a circle over my back in one gentle, wordless reassurance. It startled me, that touch. It startled me because it comforted me. I didn’t think it was possible to find a touch comforting ever again.

And then I realized. I realized that fear, when embraced, hardens and sharpens. That it becomes rage. That it becomes power.

He was on his knees, staring up at me. And that—the way he looked at me—was the first thing that felt real. Real, and raw, and… and confusing. Because he looked at me in sheer awe—like I was the most incredible thing he had ever seen. Like I was a fucking goddess.

“I’ve lived through some injustices in the last couple of centuries. Seen some fucking travesties. But one of the biggest, Oraya, is that anyone taught you that you should become anything other than exactly what you are.”

And it was there, in his eyes, that I found the truth that should have broken me. Yes, we could kill each other here. We were offering ourselves to each other. But neither of us would.

Strange, that girls are so often told that the loss of their virginity marks a threshold between girlhood and womanhood, as if it fundamentally alters them in some way. It was not the sex that changed the girl forever. Not the blood that spilled between her thighs that shaped her. The blood that spilled over that marble floor, though… Those are the stains on one’s innocence that never fade.

I saw multitudes in Raihn’s eyes when he looked at me.

“I would beg,” he murmured. “For you, I would.

“I’m glad it was you,” he said, quietly. And I made sure my aim was true as I slid my blade right into his heart.

💔