The Ashes & the Star-Cursed King (Crowns of Nyaxia, #2)

by Carissa Broadbent

I lifted my eyes to the sky. Beyond the winged bodies above, storm clouds swirled in unnatural wisps—like fish circling a pond, fragments of suspended lightning dancing between them. I’d only seen the sky like that once before. When we had the attention of the gods.

A Coriatis bond. The god-given gift I’d once thought would give me the power I needed to be Vincent’s true daughter. Now, I was giving up my father’s greatest weapon to bind myself to the man I’d once thought was my greatest enemy. To save his life. Love, over power.

“My Goddess Acaeja,” I cried out, my voice cracking. “I summon you in the name of my mother, your acolyte, Alana of Obitraes, in my greatest time of need. Hear me, Acaeja, I beg you.” And perhaps I wasn’t insane after all. Because when I called, a goddess answered.

For a long time, we stayed like that. And then eventually, he murmured against my hair, “So you missed me.” Arrogant prick, I thought. But aloud I said, “I love you.” I felt his shock at those words—actually felt it, like it was my own. And then, the wave of contentment that followed, like the sun falling over my face.

The Mark was nearly identical to mine, albeit slightly modified to match the shape of his body. I was wearing a loose camisole that exposed my neck and shoulders, leaving our two Marks visible side-by-side. The resemblance was uncanny. He had the same layered phases of the moon over his throat, and the smoky rendering of wings over his clavicle and shoulders—except his were the feathered wings of the Rishan.

The Heir Mark on his back was nearly identical to the one I now bore on mine. The phases of the moon spread across the top of my back, spears of smoke running down my spine.

I looked up to see Mische whirling around, nearly dropping the tray in her hands in her hasty effort to cover her eyes. “I leave you two alone, unconscious, for five minutes and you’re already in here tearing each other’s clothes off? At least lock the damned door!”

She was wearing that a-cat-is-pissing-on-my-leg-and-you’re-the-cat face. My favorite of the diverse library of Oraya faces.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I think I feel it now.” I let my eyelids flutter closed. Let myself be surrounded by him, as he kissed the dawn off my skin. My husband. My ally. My lover. Facing a new day beside me. And as that golden sun crested the horizon, as a new year broke, as his lips found mine, my answer rose to the surface of my skin like the moon rising in the night sky. And not a single part of me doubted it as I whispered into his kiss, “I feel it, too.”