Page 21 of The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)

ASAR

G et your hands off my wife.

The words were more reflex than a deliberate decision.

I saw Mische on her knees, surrounded by Shadowborn guards, Egrette preparing to drive a blade into her heart just as Shiket once had, and nothing else in any mortal or divine plane existed at all.

Elias’s brows arched in surprise. Egrette’s smile wavered.

Wife?

Mische’s flood of relief was tempered with a note of confusion.

Wife?

The spectators whispered to each other, scandalized.

Wife?

Egrette cocked her head, attempting to keep up her cool facade. “My, what were you up to down there?”

But the things that had been holding me back now felt as inconsequential as spiderwebs.

The dregs of my weakness from Mische’s touch.

The remnants of Elias’s sedation spell. The enchanted chains that bound my hands.

All of it, swept away with a single vicious stroke, revealing a pool of deep, rich power to be drawn upon.

I felt it all. Every sensation. Every thought.

The bloodthirsty pleasure of each pitiful person in this room.

The arrogant performance of Egrette, certain she was about to secure her throne.

The grim resignation of the guards, ready to see to Mische’s execution like it was just another mundane task.

It infuriated me. It revolted me.

The curtains flew back, the force of my magic stronger than the competing winds from the sea. Several stained glass windows cracked. The roaring nightfire in the hearth sputtered, clawing for life. The dagger skidded across tile.

I didn’t remember rising or moving. But then I was standing before Egrette. I almost laughed when I felt her understand her miscalculation. And what a miscalculation it had been.

“You underestimated me, Egrette.” I spoke softly, and the words felt far away. Yet they vibrated in my bones. “Once I had thought you were the wiser one in the family. And yet, you drag me out here and you threaten what’s mine. As if she’s just an object to be used for your purposes.”

Saying it aloud made my rage nearly unbearable. I was speaking to Malach, Raoul, Shiket, Nyaxia, Atroxus. So many unforgivable injustices.

Egrette, to her credit, kept her composure. But I saw the wheels turning in her head as she frantically considered her next move. Behind me, Elias drew his sword, and I snapped, “ Put that down, or drive it through your own heart.”

Put that down. Put that down. Put that down.

The blade clattered to the floor.

Egrette’s face hardened, and I knew she’d made her choice. She was ready to fight. How sweet, that this threat to Elias was what pushed her to it.

If she did, she would lose.

She clung to power so tenuously. I could take it from her right now. I could end them all, and they would deserve it.

But a voice rang out in my head:

Asar, stop!

Mische, speaking into my mind. The realization struck me with a distant note of pride—that she had learned this skill.

I turned slightly. She was still on her knees, and the look on her face stopped me like a hand seizing a strike mid-swing.

Ever so slightly, she shook her head.

Don’t do anything you can’t take back, she said silently to me. We need the House of Shadow. Remember?

At first, I didn’t even know what she was talking about.

Then the logical memories pieced back together.

Our mission. Alarus’s relics. Ascension.

And Mische’s fate. Her eternal fate.

This thought tempered my rage. Barely.

I turned back to Egrette. She was terrified, and we both knew I knew it. But she lifted her chin.

“Why did you come back, brother?” she hissed.

We can’t start a war here, Mische said into my mind. But now she’s seen what you can do, and she knows that if she fought you, she would lose. Use the leverage. Give her something she wants.

I hesitated, careful not to look at her.

The realization dawned on me. Mische had engineered this situation. It was so cold—so Shadowborn—that it genuinely surprised me. Still, the image of Mische on her knees thrummed in my heart, and it made it hard to stay my hand.

Perhaps Mische sensed that, because she said, It’s not about revenge, Asar. Sometimes mercy can get you further if you give it at just the right time.

I could kill Egrette now—kill most of the people in this room.

I knew that with inexplicable certainty, now that the hint of divinity in my blood was so close to the surface.

But Mische was right. Doing that would spark a conflict that would spread far beyond this moment.

And it would certainly attract the attention of Nyaxia faster than we were prepared to deal with it.

All the while, Acaeja’s voice echoed in my head:

You will never be king of the House of Shadow.

The crown was so close I could reach out and snatch it from Egrette’s head. But even if I did, I already knew that fate dictated it would never remain on mine. I had traded that future away. I would do it again a thousand times if I had to.

After a lifetime of craving its acceptance, I now looked at this room, this castle, these people, with nothing but disgust.

Let Egrette have it all. She deserved it.

And yet, I still had to force the words up my throat when I said, “I came here to offer you my alliance.”

Egrette’s perfectly arched brows shot up.

The shock rippled through the room, palpable. The nobles sat forward in their seats. Even Mische’s surprise nipped at the back of my mind. Mercy, after all, was a far cry from alliance .

Egrette didn’t know what to make of this, either. Her smile faltered before recovering. “So I may expose my back to you to be stabbed,” she said sweetly. “How kind of you.”

She won’t believe you, Mische said to me. None of them will. You have to be a little more persuasive.

Persuasive. Ridiculous. Like I had to sit here and convince my sister to accept a gift she didn’t even deserve.

Stop whining, Mische snapped. Remind her that the nobles want you two to tear each other apart and that she should show them where to shove it. A pause, then, Maybe with nicer words than that.

She was surprisingly good at this.

Aloud, to Egrette, I said, “I am genuine. I came here to support your throne. Not steal it.”

Into her mind, I told her, We have more in common than we ever acknowledged.

Two spare Heirs fighting for Malach’s scraps.

Look around you. Surely you can see how eager they are to watch us destroy each other.

And then I added, because there was no improving upon perfection: Wouldn’t you enjoy showing them where to shove it?

Egrette’s eyes flicked to the crowd. Back to mine.

What do you have to offer me for the risk of keeping you alive?

As if she had a choice at this point. She could not kill me even if she wanted to. But I’d let her keep her pride by talking this way.

If I bow to you now, in front of all of them, it will make them respect you, I said. Show them a united front and that’s a wall that even they can’t tear down.

Her brow twitched.

And what do you want in exchange?

I want a role in building this kingdom beside you, I said. I want safety and positions of respect for both myself and my wife.

Wife. Even spoken in my mind, the word sent a shiver up my spine. It was a useful lie—calling Mische my wife linked her inextricably to me, so that no matter her past crimes, no one would dare touch her if I managed to secure my own position.

But the truth was, I hadn’t been thinking logically when I’d blurted out the word. It had just felt like the correct one.

Appeal to her dreams, Mische said into my mind. From the outside, it must have looked like Egrette and I were silently staring each other down. Not to her anger. People will do anything for hope.

Typical missionary.

Still, I said silently to Egrette, Think of what this kingdom could become in the hands of people like us. People who actually had to fight for what we have in life, instead of being handed it, like Malach was. Like our father was. We could do great things.

But perhaps Mische, in all of her sentimentality, had been onto something. Because now I could sense Egrette’s emotions warring—the distrust that I expected, and the genuine hope that I had not. I wasn’t sure why it surprised me so much.

I had only one card left to play.

I lowered to my knees.

“Queen Egrette,” I said, “I offer you my oath. The Shadowborn crown is yours. I will never attempt to take it from you. You are the rightful queen of the House of Shadow.”

At this, another ripple of surprise. I felt Mische’s most acutely of all.

Because I had just offered Egrette an oath—the same magic that bound Shadowborn soldiers to their service. True, I carefully worded mine now, and true, few magical oaths were all-encompassing, especially not when I wasn’t even fully mortal anymore.

But ultimately, I had no interest in challenging it. I was more than happy to trade away something I no longer wanted.

Egrette stared at me, serious. I knew that she was pushing at my mind, searching for signs of dishonesty. I let her. She wouldn’t find any.

Besides, we both knew I had backed her into a corner. I had shown them all my power. I had shown her that she could not defeat me by force. And I had offered her a single lifeline to save face in front of subjects who were just looking for a reason to reject her.

In the end, my oath worked out exactly as I hoped it would.

It made Egrette believe me, even if just for tonight.

“Very well, Asar Voldari,” she said. “I accept your oath. I accept your service. And I offer you mercy for your crimes. Rise.”