Raze the Night (Nightstar Book 2)

Ainreth hated everything. He didn’t want to be at the palace, he certainly didn’t want to take part in the Day of the Moon. And he wanted to be nowhere near the Herald even more than that.

And yet he was here, sitting at the table opposite to where he would be sitting. Blight. Why was he a rare, powerful az-ari? The fame really had some drawbacks.

But if he were to be honest with himself, it wasn’t Varilik who was putting him in such a bad mood. It was the fact that Fenn would be here, too. They would be sitting opposite each other, literally and figuratively on opposing sides.

It made Ainreth’s stomach turn. He would have to stare into his plate and then glass the whole night. Or he would probably either start yelling at someone or crying. Or both.

Ainreth could see Petre out of the corner of his eye, watching him. Probably making sure Ain had not yet lost his mind. Not yet, but he felt like he was close. This whole situation was making him very angry and very sad. And it didn’t seem like they were anywhere near the end of it.

Ain sighed, rubbing his eyes. But before he could continue his angry internal rambling, Fennrin arrived.

And Ainreth couldn’t help but stare at him in shock. Among other things, Fennrin was wearing a cape with the shadowforger symbol on it. And he looked absolutely stunning with that fur collar.

But there was something…off about the whole thing. If Ainreth had gotten him something like this and Fenn had decided to wear it, it would be amazing. But Ainreth could sense Varilik’s dirty hands in this. Just like in anything Fenn did these days.

Fennrin’s eyes briefly locked with Ain’s, making him freeze and swallow, his chest tight, but Fennrin quickly looked away as the Arbiter started talking to him, sitting right next to the shadowforger.

Ainreth sighed, reaching for his glass of wine that had been served in front of him. He would need a lot of alcohol to get through this. Especially with some of the rumors he’d heard.

Petre had told him that it was just sensational lies, but Ainreth had been watching carefully every time Fenn and Varilik were near each other. And every time, Varilik seemed just a bit too close for him liking.

Seeing Fennrin with anyone else like that would make Ainreth’s heart feel like it’s getting sliced into pieces, but Varilik? Sundering Varilik?

It made Ain sick. He was desperately holding onto hope that it was just rumors, but who was he kidding? Using Fenn’s current emotional vulnerability from being broken up with and fighting against Ain would be the ideal moment for that misborn to take advantage of him.

Ainreth downed the whole wine glass, waving at one of the servants to pour him another. He needed to be very drunk very quickly. Or he might start pulling his hair out.

As the Herald clinked a fork against his glass and started making a speech, Ainreth shut everything out, not really paying much attention to anything aside from looking at Fennrin sometimes, which just made him feel worse every time. He couldn’t help himself though.

Food being served did help Ainreth ignore everything around him better, but once he was done eating, it was back to looking at Fenn. And the misborn. Varilik seemed to be introducing Fenn to random high ranking people. Typical.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been glaring at Varilik the whole time until Petre nudged him with their elbow.

“What?” Ain grumbled, looking at them.

“We’re supposed to mingle. Try to get people on our side,” Petre grumbled right back, getting up. Only then did Ain realize that most of the people here were no longer sitting, instead talking in smaller groups around the room and likely the entire palace because the dining hall was half empty.

Scowling, Ainreth stood up as well, immediately accosted by the Arbiter of all people. They folded their arms and tilted their head a bit to the side.

“Daybreaker, I haven’t seen you since our fruitful interaction,” they said, smiling at him sarcastically. “You really can’t do anything you’re told, eh?”

Ain scowled at them. He was so not in the mood to deal with the Arbiter right now. They got on his nerves on the best of days. And this was not the best of days.

“I can’t explain to you how little I want to talk to you right now,” Ainreth said, feeling so tired all of a sudden. He expected the Arbiter to get angry, but instead they just started laughing.

“Oh, Tyr-Naralyn, you’re so very amusing. Walk with me,” they said, snorting, pulling Ainreth aside with them as they walked toward one corner of the room. Ainreth didn’t want to go with them, but then he decided to give in. After all, all he was doing was making himself more miserable by watching Fennrin.

“What do you want?” Ainreth huffed as they reached the wall, standing beneath a large painting of moon, fittingly enough. The Arbiter fixed their vest and brushed their hair back before responding.

“I simply wish to talk to you about what you think you are doing,” they said, raising their eyebrows at him. “I told you to spread propaganda, yes, but it was supposed to be in support of the war.”

Their voice was perfectly calm, but their words still came out annoyed. The Arbiter was clearly criticizing him, but Ain supposed they had a right to do that. After all, they were one of the Courtiers. Anything posing a threat to the harmony in Lys-Akkaria was their concern and problem.

“I decided I don’t believe in the cause,” Ainreth said simply.

The Arbiter hummed, unamused, taking a sip of their wine, which Ainreth had only now noticed they’d brought with them. By the sun, he wanted another drink.

“Well, I cannot pretend I am not impressed with you. Throwing away your station for good and going against your country in one fell swoop.”

Ainreth scowled more. “Are you mocking me?”

The Arbiter raised their hands in surrender. “No. I am genuinely surprised you decided on this option. You realize I cannot give you your rank back like this?”

Ainreth chuckled. He couldn’t help it. It was simply so far removed from his concerns right now that it hadn’t even occurred to him this was something that should bother him. Or should it, even? Who cared anymore?

“Yeah, that’s fine with me,” Ainreth replied truthfully, shrugging.

The Arbiter nodded slowly, one eye scrunched up in what seemed to be bafflement. “I don’t understand you at all, Tyr-Naralyn. But I can’t say I do not respect you.”

Ainreth sniggered, shaking his head. Before he could think of anything to say, the Arbiter continued with a sigh.

“You are supporting instability, though. Next we meet, it might very well be in court, especially with Varilik here now—he is very unhappy with you. And if that happens, I won’t try to do anything to influence the other judges to vote in your favor if they do not wish to.”

Ainreth would have thought this was a threat if not for the Arbiter’s sincere look on their face, he knew this was a warning instead. Ainreth nodded.

“I am aware of the risks. But we are doing nothing illegal,” Ainreth said. “We are simply expressing our disagreement with the war. Or is that not allowed, Lord Courtier?”

The Arbiter pursed their lips. “If it were up to me, I would not allow protests of this magnitude. But alas, it is not up to me. The other three Courtiers disagree. And as such I must accept it.”

They sounded truly bothered by the fact that they were not allowed to forcefully silence people. Despite that being quite alarming, though, it was also very funny because Ainreth was certain that the real reason the Arbiter was annoyed was that the protesters cause more paperwork for them, and that was all.

“Even Varilik is against silencing us, then? I can’t believe you are the only one who would make voicing opinions illegal,” Ain said, snorting. He wondered what the Arbiter thought of the Herald of all people being more decent than them.

The Arbiter scowled, glaring off at Varilik who was still disturbingly close to Fenn. Ainreth gritted his teeth. The misborn needed to be at least outside of arm’s reach in his opinion.

“Our dear Herald is pragmatic, you see,” the Arbiter grumbled. “Doing things like that might make him unpopular. He is an ally of the people, the Royal Court’s ambassador with the commonfolk. He can’t be the unlikable one, no matter how easier it would be to just imprison anyone who disagrees with him.”

Ainreth frowned, pausing for a moment to properly understand the implication. “Are you saying you want to jail anyone who doesn’t agree with you?”

The Arbiter laughed and waved their hand. “Oh no. I would just like if your people kept it to themselves. I don’t mind grumbling. I mind having to get through a crowd to get to my office.”

Ainreth chuckled again. He wasn’t sure if they were joking or not. And he supposed he never would know with the Arbiter.

“All right,” Ainreth said, shaking his head. “Whatever you say.”

The Arbiter hummed, looking off in thought. “This won’t end well. You realize that?”

Ainreth nodded. There was no pretending. “I worry about that too. This will only keep getting worse. I can feel it. But I can’t blindly support this war. And I refuse to stay out of it all and pretend nothing is wrong.”

The Arbiter narrowed their eyes. “Are you sure this isn’t about Varilik’s interest in your beloved shadowforger?”

Ainreth gritted his teeth, whatever neutral feelings he’d had for the Arbiter disappearing in an instant. But before he could snap at them to not talk about things they know nothing about, people around them started to scream.

He whirled around, quickly finding the source of the panic. There was blood, some of the guests were injured, and the person who had done it—a man holding a knife—was going right to Varilik.

“For the queen and the old country!” yelled the man, throwing the knife at the Herald, stilling Ainreth’s breath, frozen. All he could do was watch as the knife flew at Varilik so quickly. But even if he had the time to react, he was finding himself almost wishing it would hit and end all of his troubles.

Just as the knife was about to stab itself into Varilik’s chest, it stopped midair, hanging there for a moment before falling to the marble floor with a loud clutter.

Ainreth looked off to the side from Varilik, finding Fennrin with his arm outstretched, his expression wild and shocked. Ain imagined his own face looked about the same.

Someone had tried to assassinate the High Herald? Ainreth looked back at the attacker who was now being wrestled to the ground by palace guards.

He was wearing guard uniform, too. So someone had infiltrated the palace with the purpose of killing Varilik for Orinovo? What the man had yelled had only one interpretation. Which other queen could he have meant?

The attacker yelled something in Orinovan as Ainreth watched him, still shaken from what had happened. At least until the man was forcefully dragged out of the dining hall and most likely to the dungeon.

That was the moment Ainreth looked back at Varilik. And as he did, his blood immediately ran cold, his stomach turning.

Varilik was kissing Fennrin. And Fenn wasn’t pulling away.