Page 11 of Darkness Births the Stars #1

CHAPTER

Noctis

S nowdrops. The fresh, subtle smell was the first thing that reached my mind as I fought my way out of unconsciousness. Disoriented, I took in the small, unfamiliar room: warm wooden walls, a narrow window above the bed, sunlight filtering in through airy white curtains.

But that scent… I recognized it. The first time I had noticed it, she had been by my side.

We had stood before the deep chasm of the Abyss, the icy winds of the Other tangling her hair—gold, copper, and deepest red—making it twist like hungry flames, the wild locks whipping against my face.

She had smelled of starlight, magic, and one of Tanez’s flowers, and she had tasted…

I was lying in Baradaz’s bed.

A searing pain shot through my right side at the slightest movement. Yet there was an odd numbness to the ache, suggesting I was under the influence of more than one healing spell. Someone had tended to my wound .

No, not someone. She had. Fragments of memories surfaced.

I had stumbled through a relentless downpour, my horse lost, my strength failing.

Only one thought had kept me on my feet: I had to reach her.

Her familiar silhouette had appeared in the doorway, the light behind her framing her face like a halo.

The rest of my memories were no more than fractured pieces. Gentle hands on my skin. An even gentler voice in my ear, calming me down. And then, an agony so intense it felt as if it would tear me apart. My desperate gamble that Baradaz would care too much to abandon me—to let me die—had paid off.

Before I could gather the strength to sit up, the bed dipped on my left side.

A sudden weight pressed down on my chest, and the unyielding amber gaze of a deadly predator filled my vision.

My startled reaction made the little beast on top of me growl in threat, its sharp claws digging into my skin.

At my pained shout, the door flew open, revealing the woman I had come here to find.

The sight of her brought an agony to my heart, eclipsing the stabbing pain of my wound.

She had not changed. Oh, she looked different.

Her glorious hair was tamed into a simple braid, unadorned by jewels or a crown, her dainty face aglow with the vibrant color of a life spent mostly outdoors, a striking contrast to the silvery gleam of her eyes.

Gone were the elegant silk dresses of Aramaz’s court, replaced by a beige blouse and dark pants tucked into sturdy boots. Pretty, but practical.

Yet amid the simplicity of her surroundings and attire, she still shone.

The one light that had always caught my attention.

A beauty that went beyond the flesh. Every attempt to capture even a fraction of her essence seemed inadequate, when countless poets from all races of Aron-Lyr had failed to do her justice with their honeyed speeches over the ages.

Not that any words came to my lips. Something else was all too familiar about her appearance as she stood in the doorway: the icy, disapproving expression on her face.

The mask of the queen.

How could I have expected anything but enmity?

A fool’s hope, my mind clouded by fever and desperation.

I had known she was no longer one of the Ten.

I had witnessed the grand statues in front of her temples being razed to the ground, heard how her name had become a curse instead of a blessing, and wondered what had caused her fall from grace.

Aramaz had turned against her. That much was clear. But why? Why now? Had my brother simply no longer needed her after his victory? Had he seized the opportunity to rid himself of the queen whose loyalty had become questionable?

My feelings on the matter were conflicted.

Anger at Aramaz, at everyone who had so easily abandoned her, mixed with guilt over my own role in her fate, and—a dark stirring in my heart I could not suppress—a vengeful satisfaction that I was not the only one who had fallen.

Not the only one who had paid for my defiance.

Sharp claws jolted me from my thoughts. “Curse it, get this beast off me,” I pleaded, my attempt to shoo the cat away met with a hiss.

“Shadowbane,” Baradaz scolded her pet half-heartedly, more amused than concerned. Obediently, the black cat clambered down, but not without sinking its claws in one last time, as if to say I should be grateful I got off that easily.

“You named your cat after Sha’am’s favorite weapon?” I asked in disbelief, my eyes still on the cat as it strutted over to its mistress, its bushy tail held high in the air in a silent challenge.

“I named him that for a different reason. He came to me when I needed a friend to keep the ghosts of the past at bay.” Baradaz bent down to pet the little beast, a sudden bite in her tone. “The similarity amused me.”

“Sha’am has sworn to kill me with that axe. Did you know that?”

“He might have mentioned it,” Baradaz said, her bright eyes betraying nothing. “From what I can see, you appear to be very much alive, so he has clearly been unsuccessful thus far.”

Was she not at least a little bit relieved I was alive? Who was this controlled stranger who had replaced the fiery, passionate woman I could never forget, no matter how hard I tried?

“Well, he always hated me.”

Baradaz tilted her head at my answer, a flicker in her gaze.

A fine crack in the composure behind which she obviously intended to hide her true emotions in my presence.

It made me want to sink my fingers into that fissure, tear it open to reveal the truth of her.

It would be so easy. No one in this miserable world knew her better than I did.

But there would be a price. A price I was not ready to pay. Not yet.

“You destroyed the land of his people, scattering the Drakuul across Aron-Lyr with no place to call their own,” she said.

“Fugitives without a home, forced to rely on the mercy of other realms. A dire fate for a race of once proud warriors. I think Sha’am’s scorn is justified.

” Her eyes bored into me with a fierce expression I had seen all too often.

She wanted me to show remorse for my deeds.

A condescending laugh escaped me. “The fool had his fearless warriors build their capital atop a dormant volcano. You can’t blame me for seizing such a golden opportunity.”

I paid for the laughter and the comment with a sharp pain lancing through my body and a tense silence filling the air. Our past loomed between us like a chasm.

To my surprise, it was I who could not endure the quiet for long. “The Drakuul were a thorn in my side, continuously attacking my supply lines. It was a tactical decision to remove them from the equation.” I told myself I was not justifying my actions to her. I was merely stating the facts.

Baradaz’s face remained carefully composed as she straightened up, ignoring the cat’s disappointed meow when she stopped petting it.

“Was it also a tactical decision to send your dragons after the survivors? To hunt them down like animals, not showing the slightest mercy?”

There was so much I could have said to that.

So many explanations, so many accusations I could level against our fellow Aurea.

Perhaps even a confession or two, about how I had slipped deeper into darkness with each passing year of the war, how my wrath toward Sha’am and the others had drowned out everything else until each cruelty they committed sparked a merciless retaliation, an endless maelstrom that consumed everything.

But I saw it in her eyes, in that flat, icy stare. She had already made up her mind, had already condemned me without granting me any opportunity to share my side of the story.

Fine. It wasn’t as if I needed her forgiveness. Or anyone else’s.

“What happened to them?” I asked. “To my dragons?”

I had heard they had all been destroyed. Again. Yet deep in my heart, a persistent hope lingered. A hope that some of the powerful creatures might have survived, hidden in the fiery mountains and arid deserts of the south.

Baradaz stepped closer to the bed, her mouth a thin line. “The Council judged them too dangerous to let them roam free.”

I had suspected it when I heard the rumors. The confirmation still sent a surprisingly sharp pain through me. Strange. Shouldn’t I be accustomed to loss by now?

“They destroyed them,” I said, my emotions tightly controlled. “All of them? ”

“Yes.”

“You adored those creatures. Didn’t you at least try to…”

My hands clenched the blanket that covered me.

It wasn’t like Baradaz to be so unfeeling.

She had been cold to me before, after my first imprisonment, and certainly during the war.

But there had always been fire beneath the ice, a spark of anger and desperation, perhaps even hate, that I could stir into a storm with a few provoking words.

Not this cursed indifference that stole all warmth from her.

“I was no longer a member of the King’s Council when the decision was made.”

“Oh, my brother barred you from the Council during the war?” I cried out. “ Lyr , Aramaz has proven to be an even bigger fool than I always believed. You are one of the most powerful of the Ten. Losing your support could have cost him his victory.”

“You can hardly blame him for not trusting me any longer.” Baradaz shrugged. “He still won the war, so his decisions cannot all have been foolish.”

“He won the war because I was betrayed. Because you and Masir tricked me,” I spat, anger rising inside me. How could she be so damn unaffected when her every word effortlessly tore open all my old wounds?

“It must be disheartening that even one of your most devoted followers thought you were taking things too far.” Cold satisfaction glinted in her eyes. “ He came to me to plot your downfall, did you know that?”