“Because I’m so tired, Oraya.”
His mouth brushed over the tip of my nose. Almost a kiss. Not quite.
“I’m so tired of pretending. Tired of pretending I don’t think about you every night. That I’ve ever wanted anything—”
His throat bobbed, and he closed his eyes, as if he needed a moment to collect himself. His fingers found that spot on my wings again, dragging across it so agonizingly slowly, and I let out a trembling breath that made him lean a little closer, like he wanted to capture that sound on his lips.
“I’m exhausted, princess,” he groaned. “So damned tired.”
It sounded like a plea—like he was begging me for an answer, a solution. And I hated that I recognized it because I felt it too.
It was exhausting, to be this sad all the time. To feel so angry. To resist, constantly. Just as tiring as carrying the wings on my back.
A part of me wanted to give in. Let myself feel something more than nothingness or sadness or anger. Let him touch me, taste me, fill me. Fuck him until I didn’t feel anything but pleasure.
It had worked before. For a little while.
But so much had changed since then.
Because when I closed my eyes, I wouldn’t see pleasant visions of Raihn’s naked body or his kisses or his affection.
I would still see his bloodied form on the ground. I would still see him killing my father.
I would still see my blade in his chest.
I pulled away, just enough to put some distance between us, and I saw Raihn’s expression settle into serious understanding—a mirror of my own realization, reality seeping in.
The haze of pleasure and comfort was starting to fade. I already mourned it.
“I was selfish,” he murmured. “The day we had together, I was willing to let you use me to escape. I did that knowing that if you knew the truth of why I was there, you’d hate me for it. And that—that was wrong. I thought I’d die in that ring, and it would be over, and you would never know. But—”
It was amazing, how fast it happened. Like a flame drenched in frigid water.
The sudden wave of anger was coldly all-consuming.
“And what the hell was that supposed to be?” I said. “Was that supposed to be a mercy? You dying for me?”
His face shifted, a line between his brows. “I—”
“I dream about my blade going into your chest every fucking night, Raihn.”
Too much. Don’t show him this.
But it was too late. The words poured out of me, hot and scalding.
“You made me kill you,” I ground out. “You made me do what you couldn’t do. For the second time in my life I—”
I bit down on those words, so hard my teeth drew blood from my tongue. I turned away. But it was too late to avoid seeing the realization fall over Raihn’s face, as he touched his chest, right where my blade had pierced it.
Shame flooded me.
I’d almost—
Mother, what the hell kind of daughter did that make me? What kind of queen?
“Oraya,” Raihn started, and I cringed, bracing for his words.
But then a knock rang out at the door.
He didn’t move. I could feel his eyes staring into my back.
Another knock, louder.
“Raihn?” Mische’s voice came from the hall. “Are you in there?”
Still silence.
Then, he finally rose. I didn’t look up, though I heard the door open, and Mische’s bright greeting. “Oh! You’re up!”
I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t want her to see this, too.
“What is it?” Raihn’s voice was hushed.
A beat of silence, as Mische, undoubtedly, put things together.
“It’s from Vale,” she said, matching his tone. “There’s… a problem in Sivrinaj.”
Raihn let out an exhale that was a wordless curse.
“I know, right?” she sighed. “Those fucking bastards.”
28
RAIHN
“Those fucking bastards,” I muttered.
“Mhm,” Mische agreed.
I read the letter again, fingers crumpling the parchment around Vale’s words.
The tentative peace after my performance at the nobles’ meeting could only get us so far, apparently. There had been rumblings of unrest near Sivrinaj, with some of the smaller Rishan nobles not only refusing to send their troops, but actively undermining Vale’s efforts.
I had my fair share of flaws, but naiveté wasn’t one of them. I knew that sooner or later—probably sooner—this was going to happen.