Page 77 of Darkness Births the Stars #1

“Equals,” Noctis echoed, drawing out the word as if searching for a hidden meaning.

“You only have to say the word, saeraery .” His touch on my jaw changed to a caress, slowly sliding down my throat.

“And I will gladly spend the next few hours on my knees for you, my face between those supple thighs. ”

Stars above. The violent surge of need pulsing through me at those words, at the memories accompanying them, nearly undid me. Not burying my hands in his hair and pulling him down atop me was pure torture.

“It’s best to keep our relationship free from distractions,” I said, knowing he could feel my pulse thrumming wildly under his fingertips. “Let’s focus on what’s important.”

“Well,” Noctis said, amusement coloring his tone as he took in my determined look.

Unlike me, he had no qualms about allowing his gaze to wander over me, surely noting the way my nipples had perked up cheekily, rubbing against the fabric of my tunic.

“Then we should probably discuss our next steps.”

He let go of me abruptly and retreated toward the kitchen window, an unfamiliar hesitation replacing his earlier intensity as he peered outside.

“There is something I have to tell you,” he continued, the words drawn out as if he had to force himself to utter them. “That storm was not a natural occurrence.”

“What do you mean?” I watched him, unsure of his meaning. The storm had been fueled by Chaos, but that was nothing uncommon—storms like that had raged through the hills every spring since Yggdrasil’s fall. Only the timing had been odd.

“I sensed something within it. A familiar presence.” His eyes found mine, the lines of his face hardening with visible tension. “A presence who does not wish me well.”

“You think it was one of the Chiasma?” I exclaimed, horror coursing through me. “They are capable of that?”

“I did not think so.” Noctis breathed in deeply, a pained expression crossing his features.

“But many of the artifacts I created over the centuries likely fell into their and Galator’s grasp after my defeat.

Weapons. Lyr -stones. Objects of dark power.

” Stark worry darkened his gaze. “There is no telling what they might do with them.”

“Do you think they have the Chaoscrown?”

Noctis scoffed. “If whoever has the Crown were nearby, they would not bother with sending out storms. They would deal with us directly.”

I gathered the blanket around me, trying to ward off the sudden chill on my skin. “Do you know where the Crown is?” I asked, determined to take advantage of his newfound openness.

“No.” Noctis’s tone was flat. “Not where I left it, that much is clear.”

“So you searched for it.”

The closed-off expression on his face returned. “At a point.”

Realizing I wouldn’t get any answers about what had happened before he was injured, I changed my strategy. “Will it give them access to the power of the Adept?”

“No. Not as long as I live.” Noctis’s slightly cocky smile was completely inappropriate given the situation. But then, he had always been overly proud of his creations. “While the Crown holds a lot of power, it does not contain the power of the Adept. It only makes it easier to control Chaos.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “Because you used that lyr -stone in it.”

My accusing tone did not deter him. On the contrary, his smile only deepened. “Yes, I used that lyr -stone in it.” A laugh escaped him, his eyes twinkling. “Stars, do you remember how we made it? We were both fucking drunk on the magic. And each other. I’ve never felt more alive.”

That burning gaze raked over me like a caress, reminding me viscerally how we had woken up in each other’s arms. And that there were as many good memories between us as painful ones.

Of those days—and nights—I spent in the icy, beautiful halls of his fortress in the northern mountains, when we had explored the limits of both our magic and our connection, losing ourselves in an overwhelming whirlwind of power and pleasure.

“I shouldn’t have let you leave that time.” The regret in Noctis’s voice cut through me with surprising force. Perhaps because I shared it. We had been happy then, even if it had been no more than a fleeting illusion of happiness.

“It was not your decision to make,” I said, trying to hide how much his words affected me.

“No. It wasn’t, was it?” Noctis gave me a sad little smile that did nothing to diminish the ache in my heart.

He drew in a deep breath, as if gathering all the unspoken words lingering between us and pushing them aside to refocus on the present.

“They are going to come after me. Wherever I go, whatever I do, they will not rest until I am dead, because I am the only thing standing between them and that power—a power they need if they ever want more than a few scraps of barren land at the edges of the realm.” The earlier guilt resurfaced, his eyes fleeing mine once more, his voice rough with emotion.

“I should leave. I am bringing nothing but danger to your doorstep.”

I shook my head, quelling the instinct to reach out to him. “You can’t leave. By now they know I’ve given you shelter. If they don’t find you here, they’ll try to extract your whereabouts from me.”

His gaze snapped to mine, bright with sudden fire. “They will use you against me.”

I moved to the edge of the cot, my tone deceptively light. “I should give you over to the Ten. Ask Aramaz and the Council to deal with the Chiasma.” The duty I could not bring myself to fulfill .

His eyes never left mine, that fire blazing up into a storm. “Why don’t you, Baradaz? Why?”

It was my turn to avoid his gaze. I stared at the blanket clasped tightly in my hands, searching for an answer that wouldn’t betray too much.

In the end I sought refuge in the smug defiance he so often employed.

“Haven’t you heard?” I said, with a willful jerk of my head. “I’m a traitor to the Light.”

Noctis took a step closer as if he couldn’t help himself, but stopped abruptly. There was no amusement in his voice, only a deep sadness. “So that’s where kindness toward the Dark has led you, my queen? Alone and banished, without power and allies, threats all around you.”

His words did not deter me in the least. “I thought I had one ally,” I retorted, rising from the cot and moving toward him. “Help me.” I clasped his warm hand tightly, willing him to understand. “Help me stop the Chiasma from threatening this village.”

He tilted his head, a questioning look in his eyes. “Threatening this village?”

“There has been an attack on a nearby farm,” I explained. After everything that had happened, I trusted him enough to share what I had discovered. “They found the family and every animal there dead. Arranged in some kind of circle, as if someone had drained their life force from them.”

When his expression grew alarmed, I let go of his hands, hurrying over to the cupboard next to the stove, quickly rummaging through it.

“And you waited to tell me about this until now because…” Noctis’s tone held more than a hint of annoyance. I threw a look at him over my shoulder, raising one eyebrow. His lips twitched. “Fair enough.”

My hand closed around the small blackened object Adesh had given me. It lay on my palm like a sinister, twisted snake as I returned to Noctis’s side. “The victims were bound with this. Do you have any idea what it could be?”

He froze the moment he caught sight of it. Then he moved so quickly I had no time to react, grabbing my arm and dragging me to my bedroom. “Get your things.”

“What?” I had been so shocked I had not protested, but now I freed my arm with a sharp twist.

“We are leaving.” Without waiting for my response, Noctis flung open the closet door, yanking out clothes and tossing them onto the bed. “You’re right,” he muttered, his voice low and haunted. “The Chiasma are a terrible threat. But I will be damned before I let any harm come to you because of me.”

When he reached for the next blouse, I stepped between him and the closet, halting him. “No,” I declared, not willing to compromise. “I am not leaving the people of Dalath alone to pay the price for our past.”

Noctis bent closer, towering over me, his eyes full of fierce determination. “Baradaz,” he growled. “Get dressed. Or I will throw you over my shoulder, no matter how you rage at me, and carry you out of here.”

There was also fear in his gaze, though. More fear than I ever thought possible. “What happened to ‘I will only do what you ask me to do’?” I said, very softly.

My words stopped him. His breath was ragged. “That’s not what I—”

“We can do this,” I interrupted, taking his hand once more. “Together. We have my lyr -stones. And the dagger. We will come up with a plan to deal with whichever Chiasma has their eyes on us, and—”

A violent tremble went through him, his face twisting. “You have no idea what—who—we are up against,” he pressed out, his voice strained. “ Vultaron was far from the worst of them. Some of the Chiasma can use magic so dark you cannot even imagine what it can do.”

“Magic you taught them. Magic only you know how to counter,” I pointed out. As much as I hated to press the issue when it so clearly haunted him, I saw no other choice. I would not abandon Dalath and its people. And I needed him.

“And they are my responsibility.” Noctis’s voice was barely audible, the torment in his expression almost unbearable as he stared down at me.

“Listen to me.” I cupped his cheek, trying to break through his despair somehow. “I know we cannot do this alone. We need help. The village elders asked me to train the local militia. If you help me—”

His bitter laugh traveled through the tenuous connection of our touch. “A few mortal peasants will hardly scare my former acolytes.”

“What are you proposing, then?” I threw back at him, at my wits’ end. “Running away and letting the Chiasma destroy everything here without even trying to oppose them? Hiding for the rest of our mortal days? As you said, they won’t give up. We will have to face them at some point. So why not now?”

“We?”

Before I could respond to his raspy question, the loud grumbling of my stomach interrupted us. Noctis’s lips quirked up in a slight smile.

“Perhaps we should not discuss this on empty stomachs,” he commented. “Stars, when did you even last eat?”

Now that he mentioned food, I realized just how hungry I was. “Yesterday.” I tried to remember exactly when. “I think.”

“I’m going to make breakfast.” Noctis lifted his hand to stop me before I could say anything. “That doesn’t mean I have agreed to help you train those farmers. ”

I hid a smile. I knew that tone. Despite the frown on his face, I was sure I had him halfway convinced to help me.

“Belekoroz.” His true name left my lips, stopping him before he could leave the room.

“Yes?”

He was quite the sight, wasn’t he? Hovering on the doorstep of my bedroom, all eager to please.

Perhaps I’d been too harsh. Memories of the storm and Itzi’s death flashed through my mind.

Noctis had helped me selflessly, without taking advantage.

What could I say to an ally who had been there when I needed him most?

Who had seen me at my weakest? Comforted me? Cuddled naked in bed with me afterward?

“Thank you.” That should sound harmless enough. “For being there for me.” My voice faltered.

“I could say the same.” Noctis didn’t comment on my floundering. “Besides, that’s what allies do, isn’t it?”

The faint amusement on his face as he left made me suspect he was indulging me. Clattering drifted over from the kitchen. Did he suspect how flimsy my defenses had become? Did he secretly gloat that he still had the power to affect me?

He was everything I shouldn’t want, yet all I craved after just one taste.

Always nearly too much—his firm touch, his overwhelming presence, his unexpected vulnerability.

And never enough—for my weak heart wanted more than his body or his allegiance.

I wanted all of him, with a single-minded determination that bordered on obsession. The companionship, the pleasure, the challenge. And yes, the darkness—I wanted to drown in it. But it was impossible. It always had been impossible.

I simply want him to love me as much as I love him. My heart skipped a beat at the thought.

No, I corrected myself in near-panic. Not love— loved him. There was no way my doomed feelings for Noctis could have survived all that had happened, all that he and I had done. Not when I had worked so hard to banish him from my heart, when it had taken me years to heal the wounds he’d left.

Giving in would be a disaster. The dark prophecy Enlial had uttered so many ages ago still loomed over us: If war is inevitable, then a lasting peace can only be achieved if the Adept of Chaos is banished from Aron-Lyr. Forever.

Noctis had said it himself. As long as he lived, he remained the Adept of Chaos, its power drawn to him even if he could not use it.

His feelings for me might have changed, but I feared his thirst for power remained.

He still had not told me what exactly had happened when he had searched for the Chaoscrown.

Part of me was sure he was still scheming to overthrow Aramaz.

I needed to watch his every action while we worked together to counter the threat his former servants posed.

If he made a move, I would have to stop him.

But maybe we would be a beautiful disaster.

The all-too tempting whisper in my mind finally compelled me to move, and I opened a drawer to pick out fresh clothes. I had just slipped them on when a loud knock on the front door echoed through the house.

Floorboards creaked as Noctis went to answer it. Then a familiar voice rang out, worry mixing with confusion in Tristan’s tone.

“Where is Rada? We need her help.”