Raze the Night (Nightstar Book 2)

Ainreth had barely slept. He’d had something to drink, but because he spent the whole night hoping that Fenn would come back, he hadn’t gone properly blackout drunk. He had gone out to try to look for Fennrin sometime after midnight, but that had ended in failure.

And now the sun was rising, and Fennrin still hadn’t returned. And Ainreth was very worried. He kept telling himself that Fenn had probably just slept in another tent, even though they didn’t bring any extra with them. But surely maybe he had stayed with Petre, or Enlin. Or maybe he just stayed as a shadow, hurting from all the things Ain had said.

Ainreth sighed heavily as he got up. He needed to find Fenn, and now that people were waking up, he had a better chance. Someone must have seen him, surely, not to mention that with daylight, he could actually see. Fennrin wouldn’t just leave in the middle of the night because he and Ain had had a fight.

That fact still made his insides twist. He shouldn’t be fighting with Fenn, not because of a stupid political situation. He loved Fennrin, and he knew Fenn loved him in turn. They should be giving each other a shoulder to lean on instead of fighting about what Lys-Akkaria should be doing.

Ainreth knew deep down that Fennrin was right. They had no choice. Leaving and hoping that Orinovo won’t try to defeat them with their newly made az-ari was foolish. But he couldn’t help but see the wrongness in what they were doing. Clearly, not everyone here felt the way Fennrin did—that this was a cost they needed to pay for peace. Plenty of his fellow generals wanted to take Orinovo for themselves now that they were winning.

Ain took a deep breath as he stepped out of the tent, cold wind hitting him immediately. Orinovo never disappointed, but he didn’t really care. Fire could be raining from the sky and his priority would still be finding Fenn and making things right.

He asked a few people he happened to bump into if they’d seen him as he walked around the camp, and no one seemed to. Ainreth was slowly but surely getting worried when finally, he stumbled across one of the generals, Uros Tyr-Likara.

“Oh, you are looking for your boyfriend?”

Ain tried so hard not to roll his eyes at Tyr-Likara’s smirk. And also he knew it was still too early, but boyfriend didn’t seem like enough anymore.

“Yes, him, the only sundering shadowforger in existence,” Ain says through gritted teeth, making Tyr-Likara grin in sadistic satisfaction at getting on Ainreth’s nerves.

“Hm, I did see him last night. But you won’t like what I saw.”

Ainreth glared as Tyr-Likara let out an annoying little snigger.

“Just tell me where he is.”

Tyr-Likara smirked harder. “I think your little Fennrin is moving up in the world. I saw him talking to the Herald. And from what I’ve seen, he spent the night in his tent.”

Ainreth’s eyes went wide with horror, his insides twisting in on themselves. He couldn’t believe Varilik would dare—

No, of course he would. Of course he’d strike when Fenn was vulnerable.

Gritting his teeth, Ain pushed past Tyr-Likara, marching to Varilik’s tent, seeing red. His fists were clenched at his sides so tightly that it nearly hurt. He couldn’t believe this. He should never have let Fenn storm away.

His fury momentarily gave way to horror when Varilik’s tent finally came into view, only for him to see Fenn and the misborn walking out of it. And they were smiling at each other.

“You sundering—” Ain marches over to Varilik, grabbing him by his shirt. “How dare you touch him?!”

The Herald stared at him in shock for a moment, not stopping him when Ain raised his fist to punch him, far too angry to think about what he was doing.

But just before his fist could hit the misborn’s face, someone grabbed his wrist, stopping his hand in place. He turned to the person, glaring fiercely, only to stop when he saw it was Fenn.

“What are you doing?” he snapped at him, looking so very furious himself. “Stop this immediately!”

Ainreth pushed Varilik away, turning to properly face Fennrin instead as the shadowforger let go of him. “I was so worried about you! I couldn’t find you. And then I find out you were with him?”

Ain hadn’t meant that to insult Fennrin with that, he had simply tried to get across how worried he had been. But he realized too late how it was coming across when he saw Fennrin glare harder.

“So you immediately think I cheated on you with Daryan?! Just because we both said some bad things and I needed some time to calm down?”

Ain swallowed thickly, his glare ebbing slightly. “No, I thought this misborn gladly took advantage of you being upset.”

Varilik scoffed. “What kind of a villain do you take me for?”

By now everyone in the general vicinity had not only noticed the fight but was also watching, more than likely waiting for Ainreth to snap and kill the leader of their country then and there.

“The manipulative kind,” Ain growled at him, his fists still clenched, now at his sides, trying so hard not to fantasize about burning him to death.

The Herald narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed. Good, he should be. “Control your jealousy, general. Or I will have you court-martialed for attacking the leader of your country.”

Ainreth couldn’t help but laugh. This was priceless. “What? And lose your star general? The one you pushed so hard to gain? I never asked to be a general, Varilik!”

Fennrin sighed, his eyes shut and jaw set, as if this fight was physically painful to him. “Leave it be, Ain. Nothing happened.” He huffed. “I have a hangover. Can we just go?”

Ainreth wanted to hug Fenn and fuss over him, but he was too angry to let this be. “No, actually, I need to yell at Varilik some more.”

Fennrin shook his head, starting to walk away, which only made Ainreth angrier with the Herald.

“I can have you stripped of your rank, general,” Varilik said, glaring at him. “I suggest you listen to your much wiser partner and leave.”

Ainreth barked out a laugh, unable to not feel so very done with all of this nonsense. “My rank. That I never even wanted in the first place. You know what? Do it.” He took a few steps forward so that he and Varilik were eye to eye. “Go on, then.”

Varilik shook his head, sighing as if disappointed with him. And that time Ainreth couldn’t stop himself. His fist went flying before he could stop himself, colliding with Varilik’s face with a satisfying crunch.

Ainreth couldn’t even manage to feel regretful about it. Not for Varilik’s sake of course, but he knew there would be consequences for attacking the High Herald. But he didn’t care. It felt so good to punch the misborn after all these years.

“Ain! Stop!” Fenn cried, pulling him away even though Ainreth wasn’t going to punch Varilik again. Probably.

The Herald was clutching his nose, though his hand couldn’t hide the blood trickling from it. Ain felt a grim sense of accomplishment at that.

“You are no longer a general in the Lys-Akkarian army. The Bulwark will make sure of it,” Varilik snarled as he let go of his bleeding nose, trying to wipe off the blood away from underneath it.

Ainreth couldn’t help but enjoy the unrestrained fury in the man’s eyes. Finally, the pleasant mask had been taken off, even if only for a moment as Varilik once again schooled his face to neutrality.

“I never needed the army. It needed me,” Ain said, raising his head high. “Best of luck winning this war without us, your courtship.” Ain turned away. “Come on, Fenn, let’s go.”

He started walking away before pausing, noticing that Fennrin wasn’t following. He turned to look at him, a confused frown on his face. “Fenn.”

“I am not going with you, Ain,” Fennrin said, horrible sadness in his eyes clashing with anger. As if he couldn’t decide if he should be mad at Ain or sad for him. “I have to help Lys-Akkaria. Defend it.”

Ainreth stared at him, not sure how to process this at first. They’d had this talk before, but he’d never thought Fenn would side with Daryan.

Ain suddenly couldn’t help but feel betrayed, even though deep down he knew he was being unfair to Fennrin. But it was too late. His anger and hurt were overshadowing everything else.

“So you are choosing him instead of me?!”

Fennrin immediately glared at him. “I am choosing saving our blighted country over personal grudges!”

He hissed the last two words, making Ainreth’s anger burn twice as hot. “Grudges?! He made me be a general against my will! He threatened me!”

Fennrin marched over, glaring even more fiercely. “Yes, to help the country! Not to spite you! This is not a personal attack on you, Ain. This is simply what must be done. Just like what we must do here is push on to Diramisk!”

Ainreth refused to listen to any of this. He couldn’t believe Fennrin wasn’t taking his side here. Yes, they’d had their share of fights, but he’d thought that in a situation like this, Fenn would ultimately do the right thing. It made his insides twist to even consider this happening. And yet it was happening right now.

He felt his blood boil when Varilik patted Fenn’s shoulder. He had no right to touch his boyfriend.

“Come now, Fennrin, the general simply needs time to cool off,” Varilik said, his eyes dark. “Former general, I mean.”

Ain gritted his teeth, feeling only hate. “That’s it! You clearly made your choice, Fennrin.”

He didn’t miss the slight flinch from Fenn at the cold was he’d said his name, but he was too angry to care enough.

“I hope you’re happy with it. Don’t come running to me when this misborn hurts you!” he snapped, tears stinging his eyes as he turned away and ran off, turning himself invisible.

He couldn’t let people see his tears that were now flowing down his cheeks. His heart was breaking, and he barely kept himself from breaking down properly.

He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Punching Varilik had been inevitable, and he was shocked in hindsight he’d managed to resist for so long, but essentially breaking up with Fenn?

He had to go back and take it back. He had no doubts that he was at least temporarily stripped of his rank—even if the Bulwark didn’t want to do it, she would because she had no choice in this situation—and so Ainreth would have to go back to Lys-Akkaria to explain his actions to the Arbiter of Law, but that didn’t mean he had to leave making Fennrin think he was angry with him.

Fenn had done nothing, after all. He really hadn’t. Varilik had most likely just been trying to get rid of Ainreth because he was going against this war. This hadn’t been about Fenn at all, had it?

Ainreth collapsed before a tree near the edge of their camp, leaning his back against it and rubbing his wet eyes as he turned visible. He didn’t want anyone to see this, but he couldn’t focus enough to stay out of sight, so this would have to do.

But before he could even think about letting himself cry properly, a shadow fell over him, making him frown.

Ain blinked when he looked up and saw who it was. “Oh. Petre.” He sniffled. “How did you find me so fast?”

Petre sat down next to him, staring ahead. “If I focus, I can feel the vibrations of people’s feet walking in the mushroom mycelia.”

Ain stared at Petre blankly, having no idea what mycelia is. Petre shook their head.

“It doesn’t matter. I saw what happened.”

Ain sighed, putting his face in his hands, his heart clenching. “I think everyone did.”

Petre stayed silent for a moment while Ainreth’s eyes started to leak tears once more. “I c-can’t believe I did that.”

He almost gasped when suddenly Petre wrapped their arms around him, but his momentary surprise didn’t last long, his instinct to cling to his friend overpowering his shock as he hugged back.

“Fennrin made his choice. Many times. And you don’t want to fight this war.”

Ainreth let out a shaky breath. “So I should let him wage it alone?”

Petre said nothing for a moment, only hugging Ainreth closer before letting go. “He can turn into a shadow. I think Fennrin will be okay.”

Ain sighed. “Not with Varilik hanging around him.”

Petre narrowed their eyes. “I am going with you, just so you know.”

Ain gaped, his eyes bulging out. “What? But you’ll be seen as a deserter then. You—”

“No, I volunteered to accompany you back to Kyr-Toryl.” They smiled grimly. “So you don’t get lost. Or run away.”

For a second Ain wanted to get offended over the thought of him doing either of those things before he caught up. “Oh. Right. I was planning on running away. It’s true.”

Petre nodded, smiling, though it didn’t reach their eyes. “Many of the others also disagree with what has been happening. I don’t believe Lys-Akkaria will make it to Diramisk. Morale is low, and after what just happened….”

“You think this will stop before those new az-ari are dealt with?” Ainreth asked as he sniffled, holding onto desperate hope.

“Yes,” Petre replied with a nod. “I’m confident.”

Ain shrugged, nodding. He truly hoped Petre was right. He wanted to ask what they thought about the whole fight with Fennrin, but he decided against it. It made his throat close up too much to talk about.

So instead he just nodded again, swallowing, pretending he wasn’t losing his mind worrying about Fenn, while still somewhat mad at him for not coming with him.

They shouldn’t be separated. But now there was no choice but to be. What a mess this was. And somehow Ain didn’t think he had hit bottom yet.