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.

I loved it—really, truly loved it—when they underestimated me.

Maybe it was because when I was with vampires, I knew what I was. But when I looked at these humans, the lines grew blurry and ill-defined—like I was observing a twisted reflection of myself.

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

“Where did you go?”

“Because you are far too precious.” He stroked her hair. “Two in three Turnings end in death. That’s more than half. I will not take that risk with your life.”

You’re a demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG. Raihn barely glanced at it. “Now that sounds like something we shouldn’t answer.” “Raihn Ashraj, OPEN. THIS. FUCKING. DOOR.”

He groaned. “Why is it always me? Why is it never your name they’re screaming through the sun-cursed door?” She smiled sweetly. “Because I’m nice and pretty.” “I’m nice and pretty,” he grumbled.

We waited until she was long gone before any of us moved. Raihn was the first to speak. “I probably should’ve killed her.”

“You don’t give an inch, do you?” My eyes flicked coldly up his body. “Do you? Or is an inch all you have to offer?”

Petty. Stupid. I didn’t even know why I said it, except that when he let out a low laugh, I found it oddly satisfying. “Sleep well,” he said. “I hope the knife under your pillow doesn’t give you a crick in your neck.” “I’m used to it.”

“Oraya, look—” He took two steps forward, and just as quickly, I matched the distance away. He paused, eyes narrowing. “What?” he said. “You’re afraid of me?” The cocky smile had left my face. I said nothing. “What, no smart-ass retort for that?” He took another step forward, and again, I took one back. “Get away from me,” I hissed. And he said quietly, “No.” Another step. I hit the wall. “Raihn,” Mische whispered, “maybe don’t…”

“I am not going to hurt you. How close do I have to get without splitting you open to make you believe that?” Don’t trust anyone, Vincent whispered in my ear. Raihn took another step. “This close?” I didn’t blink. Couldn’t. Couldn’t take my gaze off a predator this near to me. Less than one stride. So close I could count the beads of sweat on his collarbone. So close I could see the flutter of his pulse beneath the angle of his jaw. “Stop.” “This close?” “Back. Up. Raihn.” He looked me dead in the eye. “No,” he said. And took one more step. “BACK THE FUCK UP.” I slammed my palm against the hard muscle of his chest.

“You,” he breathed, “are being a shit about trusting me, and yet you’ve been hiding that?”

My blade hit the solid leather-clad muscle of his shoulder. His jaw snapped shut, trembling. He glared at me. “What,” he hissed, between clenched teeth, “the fuck was that for? I was going for that.” He pointed his sword to a lifeless body at the far end of the hall, then muttered a string of curses and yanked my blade from his armor. Oh.

“Don’t let them take her,” I begged again. The edges of my vision grew dark. And Raihn leaned very close to me—closer than I ever allowed anyone—as he murmured, solemn as a vow, “I won’t.”

“Fuck you.” I hoped he couldn’t see my face. It probably revealed too much. Be careful with those colorful expressions of yours, little serpent, Vincent whispered. Fuck you, too, I thought, then, moments later, uttered a silent apology in my head.

“You know, part of the reason why I wanted to ally with you was because of that look. That fucking face. It’s just so… so…”

“That fucking face,” he said, shaking his head.

“Do you want to change this world, little serpent? Then climb your cage until you are so high no one can catch you. Break its bars and make them your weapons. Nothing is sharper.

My smile disappeared, and he laughed. “There she is.”

“Impressive,” I said. “Thank you. I’ve had plenty of practice drinking terrible alcohol.” “Not that.” I gestured broadly to him, up and down. “That.” His eyebrow twitched. “I’ve had a lot of practice on my physique, too. I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

“You’re safe, Oraya. Relax.”

You are safe. I could not remember the last time those words were uttered to me.

He chuckled and took another drink. “Look at that face.

“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,”

“You’ve got to talk to me through this,” Raihn said. “A whole conversation. Then you’ll be in as much pain as I am.” I choked out a laugh at that,

“You alright?” I asked. “Define ‘alright.’” “Alive.” He scoffed. “Glad you have such high standards.”

I finished the last two stitches, then admired my handiwork. “How does it look?” he asked. I answered honestly. “Fucking awful.” He sighed. “Terrific.”

It carved a large triangle across his upper back, then trailed all the way down its center.

“One honest thing, Oraya.

“The human and the cripple,” he murmured. “The others should be trembling in pure fucking terror.”

“He acts tough, but he needs someone. And he likes you.”

Our partnership had never been about brute strength. It had always been about compromise.

I’m coming for you, Oraya.

I’m with you, Oraya. Right now. You don’t have time. We’ll go together. Alright? I’m with you.

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

Raihn. 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.

And then so fast that I didn’t have time to react when he closed the space between us in several long strides—and then he was all around me at once in a firm embrace, and my feet were off the ground, and my arms were around his neck, and I was allowing him to hold me. Allowing myself to cling to him. Allowing myself to bury my tear-streaked face in the warm space between his chin and throat.

“You were fucking magnificent, Oraya,” he murmured. “I hope you know that.”

“But tonight I’m just a father who, twelve hours ago, was certain he’d just watched his daughter die. So please, little serpent. Indulge me. Let me be that man for just a few minutes.”

“Never be ashamed of exceeding expectations,” he said. “Even mine.”

“I can’t take credit for everything that you’ve become, Oraya. Even if sometimes I wish I could. But if I’m responsible for just one small piece of that, it will have been the greatest accomplishment of my life.”

“There you are.”

“Some would call you a dangerous person.” The corner of his mouth curled. “Not with you.”

I choked a strange sound, involuntarily. So often, I had been jealous of vampires—jealous of their strength, their speed, their power. But never more than I was in this moment. I would have given anything to smell Ilana again. Smell her and that disgusting messy apartment.

“Don’t be so quick to throw away your humanity, Oraya,” he said. “You might find you miss it once it’s gone.”