Page 42 of The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)

MISCHE

W e ran and ran and ran until we had fallen back to the docks. The screams of the living and dead alike echoed behind us. We found a quiet side street and pulled up our hoods. Guards ran past us, rushing into the burning palace.

I was shaking. The voices of the dead still echoed in my ears.

Ahead, a man in a white suit smoked a cigarillo, the one little dot of ember-orange glowing like a lone north star.

I chanced a glance over my shoulder, back to the palace, steps slowing as Asar continued briskly ahead.

A streak fell from the sky directly in front of me, making me stagger back. At first, I was certain it was another Sentinel, but?—

“Get over here. Quick.”

Raihn was frazzled, his hair messy, his once-fine clothes stained. He landed so hard on the cobblestones that he stumbled a little, his hand thrust out to me.

I could have wept for the sight of him. Thank the gods. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.

He lurched closer, urgency in every line of his form. “Come on, Mish. We need to get out of here. Let’s go home.”

I took a half step back.

I was drowning under difficult realities tonight. The consequences of my actions hadn’t yet set in, though I knew they would soon. But right now, the consequences to Raihn—a king of a rival House, a king who had been spurned by Nyaxia, a king who already was on the precipice of war—were staggering.

I managed, “You have to go, Raihn. Right now.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

Gods help me, I couldn’t do this.

“You have to. Nyaxia will come, and?—”

“You’ve given me no good reasons to believe that you’re safe,” he spat. “Not a single fucking one.”

We have to go, Asar said gently into my mind. I glanced over my shoulder to see him several strides ahead, watching protectively, unblinking, but waiting to intervene unless I asked him to.

Raihn followed my gaze. His voice lowered, the words intended only for me. “Please. Whatever is happening, we will work it out together, at home, where you’re safe. Let us help you.”

And there it was. The gods-damned sad puppy face.

He meant every word of it.

I could tell him everything. He would understand. He would give us every resource. Right now, I could change everything.

But what a cost he, Oraya, and their entire kingdom would pay for it. Here, doused in the smoke of what we’d brought upon the House of Shadow, that was more inevitable than ever.

Tears burned in my eyes. I blinked and one slithered down my cheek.

Yes. Three letters that would lead me to a comfortable embrace from friends who I longed for so fiercely.

Yes.

One syllable. So easy. So close.

My lips parted to let it free.

And I said, “You will leave the House of Shadow.”

You will leave. Leave. Leave.

Asar had been right. Compulsion, when done correctly, was just another instinct. I hated myself for just how easy it was to use it against Raihn. I knew his mind so well. I could slip into it like a familiar pair of gloves and snip away every possibility of rejection.

Raihn’s eyes went blank. He fell under the spell immediately. He was a Nightborn king—he knew how to steel his mind against Shadowborn intrusion.

But not with me.

He never saw it coming.

“You will leave right now,” I said. “You will go back to the House of Night. You will not come back here looking for me. You will hug Oraya and tell her that you love her and you’ll—you’ll stay safe, alright? You will go stay safe .”

Go. Go. Go.

My voice cracked, on the verge of shattering. Raihn’s mouth had closed. He looked down at his outstretched hand, like he’d forgotten what he was doing with it.

“So leave, ” I commanded.

Leave. Leave. Leave.

I was better at this than I ever thought I could be. Raihn didn’t even resist it.

I blurted out, “I love you.”

He didn’t hear me. He was already leaping into the sky.

It almost broke me. It really did.

Asar’s hand skimmed my lower back, the touch too light and too dull beneath layers of clothing that I resented. I had never so badly wanted to let someone pull me into an embrace, and I had never so little deserved one.

A smooth voice rang out in the darkness.

“It turns out that the House of Shadow apparently knows how to throw a hell of a party.” Septimus exhaled a plume of smoke, gesturing to the palace with a lazy hand, cigarillo between his fingers. “I knew it would be an eventful evening, but I have to admit, this exceeded my expectations.”

In this moment, I hated him.

I hated him almost as much as I hated myself.

“Where’s the boat?” My voice was practically a croak.

Septimus raised his palms. “No need for that. I uphold my promises.”

He gestured to the dock. Unassuming among the warships was a little rowboat with two men within it.

“They have been instructed to take you to the House of Blood. My cousin will come meet you at the rendezvous point, then escort you to the deadlands. Try not to be too put off by his appearance. I swear he’s perfectly personable.” Then, after consideration, “Well. Somewhat personable. Here.”

He tossed something to us, which Asar caught mid-air. He opened his hand to reveal two small vials, each containing shimmering silver liquid.

“A little something to knock you out for the journey,” Septimus said. “A safety measure for the House of Blood. I’m sure you of all people understand the value of our privacy. Besides, I’m sure you need some rest, anyway.”

Asar bristled. We exchanged a glance.

I told him silently, It probably won’t even ? —

Septimus cocked his head. “It will work,” he said. “Trust me.”

“That is quite some trust you’re asking for, if it does,” Asar said.

“I promised you safe passage. You will get safe passage.” Septimus exhaled a plume of smoke.

“It’s a condition of the deal, I’m afraid.

Outsiders are not allowed within the House of Blood.

We’re already bending rules for you, but I can’t allow you to sightsee on the way there.

” He gestured to Luce. “Your companion will remain awake as your guard, if you prefer.”

This did make sense, even if I resented it. With the destruction raging behind us, we didn’t have time to argue.

Asar gave Septimus a critical once-over. I knew he was rummaging through Septimus’s mind—looking, one last time, for evidence of betrayal.

But Septimus just smiled, a hand over his heart. “By all means. Help yourself to whatever’s left inside my skull. My intentions, as I’m sure you know by now, are honest.”

“Forgive my skepticism,” Asar muttered. “You deal in betrayals like a moneylender deals in debt.”

Septimus laughed softly. His fair gaze lifted to the Shadowborn castle.

Plumes of smoke, shimmering with divinity, now poured from the broken windows.

Terrified screams still echoed from within.

An inferno burst with a sickening crash from one of the spires, glass twinkling to the ground like razored rain.

Utter carnage.

The grandest place in the House of Shadow had been destroyed by the person who had once been chosen to guard it.

“Well, that’s a bit hypocritical of you,” Septimus said. “Don’t you think?”