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

by Carissa Broadbent

The king knew, in this moment, that his greatest love would also be his ruination, and that both would come in the unlikely form of a young human woman.

Maybe the king always knew that his greatest love would be his ruination. Maybe he knew it the moment he met her. He’d know it the second time he died, too.

“Knock on that door,” I breathed, “one more fucking time.” My husband smiled at me, lowering his raised fist, which had indeed been ready to knock one more fucking time. “There she is.”

I love them sooo much

But I felt anything but powerful when I was forced to recognize that Raihn—the man who had lied to me, imprisoned me, overthrown my kingdom, and murdered my father—genuinely cared for me.

Without seeing how he’d once looked at me, like I was the most precious thing in the world, the night we had spent in bed together. Too many emotions. I stomped them down viciously, even though it physically hurt, as if swallowing razor blades. Easier to feel nothing.

Raihn stared expectantly at me, but I said nothing. “What?” he said. “No questions?” I shook my head. “No insults? No refusal? No argument?” Do you want me to argue? I almost asked. But then I’d have to see that little concerned twitch on his face, and I’d have to recognize that he did want me to argue, and then I’d have to feel that complicated emotion, too. So I just shook my head again. He cleared his throat. “Alright. Well. Here. This is for you.” He’d been carrying a silk bag, which he now handed to me. I didn’t ask. “It’s a dress,” he said. “Alright.” “For the meeting.” Meeting. That sounded important. You don’t care, I reminded myself. He waited for me to ask, but I didn’t. “It’s the only one I’ve got, so don’t bother arguing with me about it if you don’t like it.” So pathetically transparent. He was practically poking me with a stick to see when I’d react. I opened the bag and glanced down to see a pile of black silk.

Raihn looked me up and down. “You look nice,” he said. The last time he had said that word to me, at that ball, it had sent a shiver up my spine—four letters full of hidden promise. Now, it sounded like a lie.

I glanced over my shoulder. I wasn’t sure why—I did it without thinking. The look on Oraya’s face struck me. Satisfaction. Bloodthirsty satisfaction. The first time in weeks I’d seen something that looked like fight in her eyes. Goddess, I could’ve fucking wept for it. There she is, I thought.

before them. I couldn’t help myself. I glanced over my shoulder again—just for a split second, barely long enough for anyone to notice. Oraya’s eyes skewered me. Like she was seeing that little shard of dark honesty, stripped bare.

But Oraya had just looked so empty. Like it was physically painful to be in my presence in that moment. Like she was begging for mercy. Now, I placed my hand against our shared wall and listened, against my better judgment. Silence. And there it was. I swallowed thickly. My fingers curled into a fist against the brocade wallpaper. One wall. Thin enough that I could hear through it. Might as well be iron. Don’t you dare stop fighting, princess, I’d told her, the night before the final trial. It would break my damned heart. And I had been so fucking smug when I’d wrung that fight out of her in that last battle. Well, she wasn’t fighting now. I didn’t go to her room anymore. I’d make sure that headache tea was sent to her the next evening. I’d make sure she had what she needed. But what she needed, right now, certainly wasn’t me.

😞😞

Just as the door swung open and a familiar voice said, “Did you really think I wouldn’t smell you, princess?”

🤭🤭🤭

Because if I let you go, I’m committing treason against my own throne. Because if I let you go, I’ll have no choice but to fight against you out there. Because if I let you go, you become my enemy in earnest. And I can’t kill you, princess. I’ve tried. I can’t. Too many damned words. Too much honesty. I settled for, “You know why, Oraya. I’m not done with you.” A sliver of the truth, mixed in with the goad: Come on. Fight me. I wanted her to fight. I’d missed seeing that in her. I’d been begging her for this for weeks. I raised my sword. She did the same. The Nightfire danced with her every breath, rising with the hatred in her face. Then her gaze rose. Eyes widened.

It was all her. Deadly and stunning. Even her hatred was fucking beautiful.

For the first time in weeks, I did not dream of Vincent. Instead, I dreamed of Raihn, and the way his face looked as he died, and the way my blade felt sliding into his chest. I dreamed it over, and over, and over again.

I do hate you. I knew Oraya hated me. Who could possibly blame her for that? I didn’t know why it bothered me so much to hear it. Bothered me enough that it overshadowed my victory.

And the truth was, my… complicated personal feelings for Oraya aside, I needed her. Without her, I had no chance of getting out from under Septimus’s grasp. Maybe a small, pathetic part of me had also been grateful for that—grateful to have any excuse to have her as an ally again, even a reluctant one. Oraya didn’t say anything as we flew back to my chambers. It was embarrassing how much carrying her reminded me of what our relationship used to be before I razed it. I could feel how terrified she was the entire time. That heart rate, her breathing, the heat at her skin. All the comfort we’d built, destroyed. As soon as I let her down at my window, she backed away from me. I wondered if she knew she had a pattern to the way she did that—three long, quick steps back, like she couldn’t wait to put as much distance between us as possible. I remained on the ledge, relishing the breeze against the backs of my wings for a little longer. I let Oraya back all the way across the room before I stepped inside. She didn’t want me any closer, and I’d respect that.

Raihn stepped a little closer to me after that, his hand on my back.

He tilted his head back, squinting into the distance. Then he pointed. “Let’s go up there.” I followed his gaze, to the spires of ruined towers that loomed over us. “Why?” I asked. “Because look at it. Must be a hell of a view.” I squinted up at it. He was, I had to admit, probably right. He didn’t give me a chance to argue with him, anyway, before he extended his hand again. I really did think about arguing. But curiosity got the better of me. So, I took his hand, and let him pick me up again.

“Wake up, Oraya. Wake up.” Fear. There was fear in that voice. I recognized the fear before I recognized the words.

I was on the ground again. I barely heard Raihn gasp my name. Barely felt his hands on my shoulders when he was immediately at my side, crouched next to me. “What’s wrong, Oraya? What’s wrong?” He spoke with such raw, vulnerable concern, voice low, comforting. That concern twisted a knife in my stomach.

“Look at me, Oraya.” I didn’t want to. I shouldn’t. I’d see too much. He’d see too much. I should pull away from him. Instead, I lifted my head, and Raihn’s stare, red as dried blood, nailed me to the wall.

everything I had ever known. His mouth twisted into a wry smirk. “Love is fucking terrifying,” he murmured. “I think that’s true no matter who you are.” I stilled.

“You’re safe,” he whispered, as he gathered me in his arms, and I faded away.

“I’m surprised it’s still here, and that you didn’t fly off to Sivrinaj with it. This was what you were looking for, wasn’t⁠—” “You were fucking dying,” he snapped. “I had more important things to worry about than your father’s games.”

He returned, carrying a plate piled with steaming meat and vegetables. “Here. Eat.” “I’m not hungry,” I said, even as my mouth watered. “It’s delicious. You want it. Trust me.” Arrogant. But my stomach rumbled. I had to admit, the smell was… incredible. I took a bite and almost melted back into the bed. Mother fucking damn him. I took another bite, and another. “Was I right?” Raihn said, infuriatingly smugly. “Mm,” I said, between bites.

“I’ll take that as, ‘Delicious, Raihn. Thank you for this meal cooked with love, and also for saving my life.’” A joke. It was a joke. Still, my chewing slowed. I set aside the plate—already almost half empty—and turned to Raihn with a hard stare. He must have thought I ran away. It would’ve been a reasonable assumption. “You came to find me,” I said. His smile faded. “Is that really so surprising?” “I thought you’d think I just⁠—” “Oh, I did think.” “But you still came after me. Why?” He let out a sound between an exhale and a scoff. “What?” I said. “I just—nothing. Just turn around so I can check your wings.” My wings. The thought made the blood drain from my face. Oh, Goddess. I’d been so disoriented, the pain so constant, that the terrible reality of what had happened to them hadn’t yet sunk in. They had been nailed through. Many times. He settled behind me. “Give me some room back here.”

“It’s hard at first to figure out how to isolate the right muscles. But…” Gently, so gently, his hands moved to the underside of my wings, where they met my back. “You’re stiff. If you relax your muscles, they won’t fall off. I know it feels like they will.” His hands slid up, applying gentle pressure along the way, coaxing them to spread. My instinct was to move them myself, but Raihn said, “Don’t you dare. I don’t want to get stabbed in the eye again. Just… relax.” Another stroke, at that tight knot of muscle. I twitched as his thumb ghosted over my skin. He stopped immediately. “Did that hurt?” I didn’t answer right away. “No.” No. It was the opposite of hurt. Awkwardly so. “Do you want me to stop?” Say yes. But it had been more than a month since I had felt safe. Longer than that since a touch had felt… comforting. I found myself answering, “No.” He resumed, slow, running along the muscle. Even through the thin layer of my shirt, I could feel the warmth of his hands. The roughness of his callouses.

“Just let go of it,” he said softly. “Let me support the weight of them. I’ve got you.” As if he could hear the inner fight I was having with my subconscious. And slowly, slowly, with the help of his hands braced beneath my wings, the muscles relaxed. “There you go,” he said. “Not so hard.” I didn’t speak, mostly because I didn’t have words for how good it felt to have someone else bear some of that burden. I hadn’t realized how heavy it was until the weight was lessened. Suddenly, I was exhausted. Raihn’s touch traveled farther up—where the limb gave way to the delicate, softer skin of the wing. I stiffened. Right away, he withdrew his hands. “Did I hurt you?” I was so grateful he couldn’t see my face. It felt hot. “No. It—it’s fine.” He hesitated. Then his hands fell back to my wings, light and gentle. “Open for me,” he said. I didn’t even have to tell my body to obey. They just… unfolded beneath that barely-there touch, like flower petals. “Beautiful,” Raihn murmured, as his fingertips ran all the way up the soft, sensitive underside.

His fingers danced along my wings again, and I barely even tried to hide my moan this time. My breasts ached, sensitive against the fabric of my shirt. I wanted the clothing gone—mine, his. I wanted his skin. I wanted his breath. Mother, I craved that. I craved it so much that right now, I couldn’t even hate myself for wanting him so much. And yet, I didn’t want it to go any further than this. This touch, his mouth near my throat, and his body close to mine. “When I went into that room,” he murmured, “I thought you were dead. I thought I lost you, Oraya. I thought I lost you.” His voice was far too raw, like an open wound, cracked and bleeding. It touched me in places I didn’t expect. Places more sensitive than his hands on my wings. He was my enemy. He would kill me if he had the chance. He was my enemy. “Would be a relief for you,” I said. “A lot of problems solved.” He went rigid. Suddenly, his hand was at my face, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. They were furious. “Stop saying things like that.” “Why?” I whispered.

Knowing I was taunting him. Knowing I was, once again, asking a question I didn’t want the answer to. His forehead lowered. Our faces were so close—I could feel his breath, shallow and quick. “Because I’m so tired, Oraya.” His mouth brushed over the tip of my nose. Almost a kiss. Not quite. “I’m so tired of pretending. Tired of pretending I don’t think about you every night. That I’ve ever wanted anything⁠—” His throat bobbed, and he closed his eyes, as if he needed a moment to collect himself. His fingers found that spot on my wings again, dragging across it so agonizingly slowly, and I let out a trembling breath that made him lean a little closer, like he wanted to capture that sound on his lips. “I’m exhausted, princess,” he groaned. “So damned tired.” It sounded like a plea—like he was begging me for an answer, a solution. And I hated that I recognized it because I felt it too. It was exhausting, to be this sad all the time. To feel so angry. To resist, constantly. Just as tiring as carrying the wings on my back.

I awoke to soft kisses over my cheek, my ear, my neck.

I could feel Raihn’s eyes on me. Could practically hear his voice: Really, princess? You’re finally taking me up on my offer?

warm darkness, until my lungs started to ache. When I came up again, I was aware of her immediately. That smell. Steel and Nightfire and a hint of spring. I didn’t even have to turn around. “Enjoying the view, princess?”

He dipped a little closer to me after that—just close enough for the tip of his wing to nudge mine, the feathers tickling. As if to silently say, Well, would you look at that?

“that you were the best part of it. The best part of all

Raihn barely managed to right himself. Then his gaze fell to me. He went utterly still. And then, with a single swift movement, he was on his knees beside my bed, hands cradling my face like he wanted to make sure I was real. You’re alive, I wanted to say, but all I could choke out was, “Did I scare you?” I was smiling, laughing a little, though the sound was almost a sob. And soon Raihn was laughing too, and he kissed my face—my forehead, my brows, my nose, and finally, my mouth, leaving the taste of tears on my lips. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he said. “Never fucking again.”

“Could you make them,” I asked, “into dual blades?” I glanced back at Raihn, and the pride in his face caught me off-guard. His eyes crinkled with a barely-there, knowing smirk. And Goddess damn him, I could practically hear him saying it: There she is.

I found myself trying to commit them to memory, those eyes. Like coins I wanted to slip into my pocket. In his presence, I felt safer than I did anywhere else. And yet, sometimes when I looked at him, paralyzing

And when the sun went down, and Oraya stirred and blinked blearily at me with those moon-bright eyes and asked, “Sleep well?” I just kissed her forehead and said, “Perfect.”

“I love you,” he said, in a single, urgent breath. “I just—I need you to know that. I love you, Oraya.”

desperation. “I appeal to your heart, my Mother,” I choked out. “As a lover who knows grief.

“I bind these hearts together.” Her voice rippled through the air like water. “Their souls are one. Their power is one. From this moment, until their threads cross this mortal plane.”

The door swung open just as my fingertips brushed the knob. He was alive. He was alive. I didn’t take in anything else about him, only that he was here and alive and standing right before me and alive and smiling and alive. And then his arms were around me, and mine around him, and the two of us held each other for a minute and an eternity, like two halves reunited. I buried my face against the bare skin of his chest and squeezed my eyes shut against the tears. 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. His arms tightened. “Good. Because now you’re really stuck with me.” I scoffed, but the sound was muffled against his skin, and it sounded much weaker than I’d intended. His lips pressed to the top of my head.

And he whispered, “I love you too, Oraya. Goddess fucking help me, I do.”

Awww

Linked. Bonded.

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. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her foot tapping impatiently.

He appeared behind me in the mirror, peering through the open doorway. He let out a low whistle. “Really?” I said, turning around and examining the dress from the back. “You think so?” “What the hell else would I think?”

“You know,” Raihn said, “it’s very easy for me to tell now when you’re doing that.” “Doing what?” I said innocently. He was one to talk. As if I didn’t also feel his eyes on my chest.

Raihn glanced at me and raised his brows, as if to say, Well, this is it. I took his arm and very subtly wiped the sweat from my palms on his sleeve.

“Nice,” he muttered into my ear, as we followed Ketura out the door.