Page 110 of Darkness Births the Stars #1

I twirled a fiery strand of her hair, fighting the instinct to deflect.

“I had heard they were searching for the Crown,” I admitted.

“My former acolytes are not incompetent. If there were rumors they had found a way to resurrect the power of the Adept of Chaos, to use the Crown to control it, I suspected there was probably some truth to them.”

“And you wanted those powers back.”

“Yes. ”

Rada lifted her head to look at me, her expression unreadable. “So, despite everything that happened,” she said softly, “you want to wield Chaos once more.”

Though her tone lacked accusation, I felt defensive. “It’s not about wanting to use it,” I replied, tensing against her. “Chaos is all around us. If I don’t find a way to control it, it will rage unchecked.”

Her silver eyes sharpened. “It was under control,” Rada said pointedly. “When the Ten created Yggdrasil and imprisoned you. Your actions allowed it to break free again.”

That’s what people said. But no matter how hard I tried, I could only recall fragments of that night so many years ago. One thing I knew for certain, though: Chaosbringer had never been in my hand. Whatever had transpired, it wasn’t as simple as the stories made it out to be.

“Did they?” I asked, searching Rada’s face for any hint of her true feelings. “Or did Chaos simply find a way to free itself once more? Like every time you and the others tried to shut it out before?”

A flash of fear crossed her features, quickly masked. What was she hiding so desperately? Had she lied about remembering little of the Tree’s destruction?

“However,” she began again, “the risk—”

I scoffed. “Existence is a risk.”

She continued, undeterred. “There were two thousand years of peace. While you were imprisoned.”

I knew better than to mention she hadn’t visited me once during the bleak years of my imprisonment beneath Yggdrasil’s roots. It was an old argument that led nowhere.

“Two thousand years in which nothing ever changed,” I remarked instead, meeting her gaze.

“Those touched by Chaos were banished to the dark fringes of the realm, where the Tree’s light never reached.

And the rest…” I shrugged, challenging her to disagree.

“You’ve been Human for ten years now. Surely you’ve noticed.

What does the life of a Human woman typically look like?

Hard labor from a young age, bearing a dozen children of whom only half survive to adulthood, then dying in childbirth or from illness.

It’s not much different for the other races, though they might live a few years longer. ”

Rada looked away, pondering my words.

“How much easier could all those lives be if the same magic we always used without thinking was available to them?” I pressed on, a bitter edge creeping into my tone. “And not limited to a select few, whose greatest achievement is their loyalty to the Ten.”

That made her bristle. “You expect me to believe you only have everyone’s wellbeing in mind?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I want to give everyone the power to forge their own fate.”

“Ha!” Disbelief flashed across her face. “And let me guess. You will get the lion’s share of that power.”

I gave her my most innocent look. “Of course. I have the most brilliant ideas about what to do with it.”

Rada traced the swirls on the table. “If you hadn’t been so blinded by your own ambitions, you could have used the pardon your brother granted you to achieve all that,” she said, her eyes meeting mine with a sharp glint.

“By working with me to influence the Council over time. Instead, you roped me into one of your schemes, destroying everything.”

Annoyance flared within me, and I stepped away. Why did she always return to the same tired accusations? I knew now that trying to manipulate her into opposing Aramaz by exploiting her feelings for me had been a grave mistake, but I had been desperate, and…

“They left me no choice!” I snapped. “You know what they asked of me. To destroy every being touched by Chaos in this world, every single one of my creations. That pardon was a poisoned offer, and I was damned no matter what choice I made.”

My hands clenched into fists as the memories resurfaced.

I wasn’t too proud to admit that the years of imprisonment had worn me down, that I had been willing to promise anything just to feel the sun on my face once more, to see something other than the damp monotony of my prison.

Regret followed my moment of weakness all too soon.

“The Father of Monsters I may be,” I told Rada, “but I will never forsake those I created.” She had saved my dragons from the scorn of the Council, had witnessed my frail hope when I brought the Rakash into being high in the north. She knew this.

Indeed, she did not contradict me. “You still think you would be a better king than Aramaz.”

Had my brother not proven time and time again that he was a bloody failure as a king?

“You never gave me a chance to prove it,” I retorted, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone. “You always chose him.”

To my surprise, she didn’t disagree, her eyes roaming over me. Why was it so fucking hard to read her without the use of our magic?

“Let’s assume I help you,” she said, her voice steady. “What do you want to do? Defeat Galator and the Chiasma to prove to the Ten you deserve your powers back?”

The thought of asking my brother or Sha’am for anything made me growl. “Hardly. I have a much better plan.”

“Of course you do.” Rada shook her head, unconvinced.

I stepped closer, taking her hand in mine, speaking more quickly now. “You help me regain my powers to deal with Galator and the Chiasma. Then I’ll prove to you there’s a way to achieve peace in Aron-Lyr without completely shutting out Chaos. ”

“I suppose that proof would require you replacing Aramaz on the throne.”

“I don’t expect my brother would agree with what I have in mind.”

Her lips twitched in amusement. “An interesting plan,” Rada commented, playing with the collar of my tunic. “I only wonder why I should help you.”

Her gaze met mine, fierce and unrelenting. Ah, so my queen needed some reassurances. I would love to show her how magnificent it would be if we were allies.

My hand closed around her nape, pulling her closer. She hadn’t touched me since our shared moment in the Other, and while I had resolved to give her the time she needed, suddenly I couldn’t wait to kiss her again.

“I would… convince our brethren to restore your power, of course.” With force, if necessary, though this wasn’t the moment to mention it.

Only the smallest space remained between us, her warmth tempting me.

I leaned in even closer, my lips brushing her jaw as I whispered, “Or I could share. Chaos suits you quite well, little queen.”

Her hand clenched the fabric of my tunic, her entire body tensing. With a graceful twirl, she stepped out of my arms, putting distance between us. Confusion and disappointment raged within me. What had I said to make her close off so suddenly?

“Aren’t you being a bit hasty?” Rada’s voice was tightly controlled as she gathered the peeled potatoes. “We don’t even know how to restore your magic. And we have neither an army nor any allies.”

“Details we can figure out eventually,” I replied, refusing to give up so easily.

Deira had said Zarastris had given the Chaoscrown to Asiza.

Galator must be furious, and I doubted their alliance was harmonious.

I would need to find a way to sow dissent between them and reclaim the Crown myself.

Those plans I should keep to myself for the time being, though.

Rada, I could guess, would judge them much too dangerous.

“I have my mind, and I have you,” I said instead. “In my opinion, that’s a brilliant start.”

Rada slid a knife across the table. “A brilliant start would be if you finished peeling those potatoes, or we won’t even have dinner,” she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

There was a noticeable sway to her hips as she fetched a small basket from the kitchen.

Little minx. “I’ll get some fresh rosemary and thyme from the garden. ”

I sat down again and picked up a potato, tossing it into the air and catching it. “Don’t be so cruel, saeraery . You know we would be glorious together. In and out of bed.”

She paused at the door, giving me a partly amused, partly exasperated glance over her shoulder. “I didn’t say yes, Belekoroz,” she reminded me.

I grinned, my good mood restored. I had never backed down from the challenge she posed; no, I loved tangling with her. “You also didn’t say no.”

Her laughter drifted back to me as she closed the door.

My peace didn’t last long. I had barely finished preparing the remaining potatoes when Briseis and Varien burst in.

The young Elvish boy was not only drenched but also smeared with mud, chunks of it clinging to his bright golden hair.

A grin spread across his face as his mother yanked off his boots, muttering that Aunt Rada would have a fit if she saw the dirt on her floors.

“But Ma,” he protested. “I swear, Selma pushed me into the mud on purpose.”

“He’s probably right,” I chimed in. “Those araks can be sneaky. They did the same to me once. ”

My remark earned me a wide-eyed “Really?” from the boy, though his mother remained unfazed, instructing him to head straight to the shower.

Briseis stayed silent after he had left, her movements precise as she picked up Rada’s abandoned knife from the table.

She carried her hare into the kitchen and began to gut it over the sink.

Her striking face betrayed no hint of discomfort as she collected the intestines in a bowl, her hands slick with blood.

“Strange work for a princess of the great house of Lyrasen,” I commented.

She laughed, holding the hare by its ears, her knife flashing as she expertly skinned it. “I’ve always been more of a hunter than a princess.” Her blue eyes met mine. “So, Rada told you who I am.”

“No,” I answered, not wanting to drive another wedge between Baradaz and one of her friends. “She keeps her secrets close to her heart these days.”

“Can you blame her?”

I shook my head and elaborated. “Fifty years is not a long time for your kind. You haven’t changed much from the bright-eyed girl at your brother’s wedding.” She had become tougher, a blade honed by grief and hardship, but still as sharp as ever.

My words made her blink in surprise. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d notice one Elvish girl among many that night.”

“I always make sure to notice those who matter,” I replied with a charming smile.

The Elf was not easily fooled. “You mean your enemies,” she said.

I didn’t deny it. Her family had been loyal to Aramaz for generations, and I had taken note of them, planning for the future, observing the fault lines between her and her brothers.

“I remember that night well, though many forgot when Yggdrasil burned hours later.” Briseis paused her work, her full attention on me.

“Barely freed from your chains, you were already causing a scandal. You dared to arrive at the festivities with the Star Queen on your arm, as if she were your spouse and not your brother’s.

You danced with her all night, kissed her in front of everyone…

” A broad smile spread across the Elf’s face. “Leander was furious.”

I could imagine. Her arrogant younger brother, third in line for the Sunfyre throne of the High Elves’ kingdom, had always despised me, even before the start of the war. Provoking him and the rest of the Elvish nobility had filled me with unrestrained glee that night.

The memories surged through my mind like shadows emerging from dense fog.

Baradaz’s wild laughter, my brother’s disapproving frown, the light and the music, an overwhelming wave of recklessness that made me abandon all caution.

There had been more—heated skin beneath mine, glittering blue eyes, a confrontation, words as sharp as knives.

But I couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t I remember?

Briseis’s soft voice pulled me from my racing thoughts. “I wondered what it would feel like to have someone look at me as if I were the only thing that mattered, as if they would burn the whole world down for me. To love so fiercely that everything else became irrelevant.”

Her words stirred something deep within me. She was likely the first person to speak of Baradaz and me without immediate condemnation.

“We both know I will never deserve her,” I admitted.

“You heard Rada. Love is not about what we deserve. It is given, freely.” Briseis had finished preparing the hare, the clattering of the large pot she retrieved echoing between us. “As is forgiveness.”

I stood up, holding the bowl of peeled potatoes. “Do I have your forgiveness, then, Briseis Lyrasen?”

She gestured for me to add the vegetables to the stew, unflinching as I loomed over her .

“Your actions shattered my entire world,” she said. “The war you ignited that night engulfed my father’s kingdom in flames, killing him and countless others, including the man I loved.”

With swift efficiency, she cleaned the workspace of all blood, leaving her knife for last, the water beading off the blade. It slid back into the block with a sharp rattle.

“Ask me again in fifty years or so.”

Unwilling amusement stole into my voice. “I’ll be dead in fifty years.”

As Varien called out for fresh clothes, she tilted her head, her golden braid catching the light. “If that’s true,” she remarked as she left the kitchen, “I’d be severely disappointed in your abilities, Lord of Darkness.”