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

by Carissa Broadbent

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.

“I hate this place.” He exhaled the words, ragged, like he’d torn them from deep in his chest. “I hate these people. I hate this castle. I hate this fucking crown. But I don’t hate you, Oraya. Not even a little.”

“I failed you. I know that. I’m probably still—” He shook his head a little, as if to shut himself up. “But you and I are the same. There is no one I would rather have help me build a new version of this kingdom. And honestly, I… I don’t know if I can do it without you.”

“Is it treason,” I spat, lip curling, “to act against a usurper? Or is that just an Heir defending her crown?” Raihn’s mouth twitched, just a little. “Good question, princess,” he said. “Depends on who wins.” There he is, I thought.

“To die, rather than killing you?” he said quietly. “Yes. That would have been worth it. Even I had to draw a line somewhere. And you’re the line, Oraya.”

Humans mourn time, because it’s the only currency that really matters in a life so short.

“There’s no one to kill.” He chuckled and leaned closer, his face only a few inches from mine, and murmured, “You sound so disappointed, my murderous queen.”

“I like a little fight,” he murmured. “Besides, she’s ruined me for all others. My own fucking fault, though. I knew it from the beginning.”

“I’d spend a lifetime at the tip of your blade, and it would have been worth it.”

At one point, I caught Raihn eyeing me, a pursed smile at his lips, like he was trying very hard not to laugh. I scowled at him, and he shook his head. Even silent, though, I could hear the words: That fucking face.

The little smile on his face said, There she is.

“Men and their secrets,” she said. “We spend a lifetime trying to unravel them, and once they’re gone, we’re still at their mercy.

Raihn’s scream cleaved through the air, even through the sounds of a kingdom falling. I forced my eyes open to see smears of blurring color. He was diving down after me, wings spread, covered in blood, a single hand reaching out for me. Something about this image looked so familiar, and then it clicked—the painting of the Rishan man falling, one hand outstretched. I’d always thought he was reaching for the gods. He was reaching for me. Everything went black.