Raze the Night (Nightstar Book 2)
Chapter 13

The ambush had been a disaster. Even though most of the Orinovan soldiers had clearly been sent to kill Fennrin and Ainreth, thirty soldier had died, so far their worst casualties after a single battle.

They had managed to fall back and regroup, kill the Orinovan soldiers, but it was too late. And since the incident, he and Ain had not spoken, aside from a few curt orders Fennrin had received from Ainreth as a general, not as his lover.

So to say that Fennrin was tense would be an understatement. He was sure Ainreth was angry with him, but he was angry with Ainreth, if that was the case.

It wasn’t his fault that Enlin had taken an arrow for him.

But thinking about these things just made him irritated ahead of time, and that was about the last thing either of them needed. So Fennrin opted for standing rigidly in their tent, waiting for Ainreth to return from his meeting with the other generals.

He just sat on the ground, trying to keep his mind completely blank until Ainreth came marching in with a scowl on his face.

Fennrin got up, immediately knowing this was going to go downhill quickly.

“We sustained so many loses but they don’t want to go home,” Ain said, pulling at his hair, making Fennrin frown. That wasn’t what he’d expected him to say at all. “Say it’s worth it.”

Fennrin watched Ainreth huff and pace around the tent, not sure what to say.

“We don’t have a choice. We cannot go back home. The queen—”

“I don’t care what the queen is doing, Fenn!” Ainreth snapped, throwing his arms out. “Good soldiers died. More were injured. Enlin got hurt badly. We shouldn’t be here.”

And there it was. At least Ain wasn’t blaming Fennrin for it. Not yet, anyway.

“We have no choice. Orinovo—”

“Yeah, everyone keeps telling me,” Ainreth cut him off. “We have to do this, we have no choice, Orinovo will destroy us. I’m sick of it.”

“War is never pretty, Ain.” Fennrin wanted to continue but Ainreth immediately jumped on that.

“You’re going to explain war to me? You?”

Fennrin had less experience with warfare compared to Ainreth, it was true, but he’d learned a lot these past few months. And the tone Ain had used made him grind his teeth.

He made him sound as though Fennrin was a child. And he wouldn’t stand for that.

“You’ve barely been in wars, either!”

Ainreth stared at him in shock, apparently not having expected Fennrin to fight back, but his shock was quickly replaced by more anger.

“At least I have much more experience with being a soldier. You’re not even one of those!”

Fennrin scowled, not sure why Ainreth was saying that specifically since Fennrin didn’t care much for being a proper soldier in the first place. But he knew very well what the intention behind those words was.

“Most of the soldiers disagree with you about going back,” Fennrin says, his eyes narrowed, not backing down.

“I’m not so sure about that, anymore,” Ainreth said, sighing, his expression softening. “I talked to my regiment. Most of them don’t want to complain, but I can tell that they have doubts.”

Fennrin said nothing, just ruminating on those words. “If it’s decided to go back, I will follow that order. But unless the generals agree, we are going to keep going.”

“And what?” Ainreth snapped. “Have more people die because together we’re not good enough to protect them?”

“We are only two people,” Fennrin reminded him. “If we were so powerful we could deal with this whole conflict on our own, we wouldn’t have an army to protect.”

“Good, I’m glad you realize it!” Ainreth huffed, shaking his head, Fennrin frowning at him.

“What does that mean?”

Ainreth shook his head again. “Nothing. Just…that bastard Varilik talks about you as if soon you’ll be a one-man army. I hate it.”

Fennrin blinked. What was he talking about? “He…he what?”

Ainreth huffed again, looking even more irritated. “He just says these things to put me down. You’re no one-man army, Fenn.”

Fennrin scowled at the dismissive tone. He hated how it made him feel to hear Ain underestimate him. Did he want to be so powerful that he could defeat Orinovo single-handedly? He didn’t think so. It was a nice fantasy, but he didn’t think it would be possible, ever, no matter how strong he was getting.

But that changed nothing about Ainreth clearly not believing in his power. He didn’t want to think of Ain as jealous of him, but he clearly was. Why else would he be saying it?

“Shadowforgers are very powerful,” Fennrin argued, huffing. “Who knows what we are actually capable of?”

Ainreth glared. “Not that.”

“And how do you know that?” Fennrin immediately shot back, making the anger in Ain’s eyes burn a bit brighter.

“Because I’m going to entertain the thought of you becoming Varilik’s pawn!”

Fennrin reeled back, his heart clenching with hurt from those words. “You really think I can’t make my own decisions, don’t you? That I’m so naive and easy to manipulate.”

Ainreth’s face turned regretful immediately, but Fennrin was just as angry as before. “No, but Varilik is—”

“Is what? He’s the only person aside from you to believe I wasn’t pure evil,” Fennrin snarled, Ain scowling again.

“Yeah, because he’s a manipulator who wants to use you!”

“And what does that make you?!” Fennrin yelled at him. “You decided I wasn’t evil just because you wanted to sleep with me!”

He immediately regretted those words, but it was too late to take them back—Ainreth’s eyes were wide and full of hurt, which quickly turned to fury.

“Oh, is that what you think of me?” he replied in a cold, dangerous tone that cut right through Fennrin.

“I—”

“No, it’s nice to know what exactly is going on in that head of yours for once,” Ainreth snarked, laughing cruelly, but even despite all of that, Fennrin could still see tears gathering in his eyes. And Fennrin’s eyes stung, too. “Go ahead and eat up Varilik’s lies, then! Maybe once you are his one-man army, no one will be getting shot because of you!”

Fennrin stared at him in shock and hurt for a moment, completely disarmed by that attack, but he quickly recovered, clenching his fists at his sides as anger burned in him anew. “I had nothing to do with that! Enlin knew that protecting me was the right thing to do. She did what any soldier should.”

Ainreth gritted his teeth, angrier than Fennrin had ever seen him, but that was appropriate because so was he. “Excuse me?! She could have died!”

Fennrin clenched his fists harder. Yes, she could have died. And he liked Enlin, he didn’t want anything to happen to her. But she was a soldier, and clearly she knew what that meant, how dangerous it was.

“And she knew what she was doing!” he yelled back. “I didn’t ask her to act as a human shield for me!”

“But you think it was the right thing to do—her sacrificing herself for you,” Ain snarked, taking a step forward so they were right in front of each other, but although Fennrin wanted to take a step back, he stayed in place, refusing to give in, too angry and stubborn to do so.

“Yes, dammit! Yes!” he snapped, knowing very well what Ainreth had been trying to say. “Without the two of us, there is no winning!”

“So better she die than you. That’s what you’re saying, right?”

Fennrin glared, his insides twisting. He hated this, but he rationally agreed with it. He didn’t want Enlin to die, of course not, but if one of them had to die, a non-az-ari soldier was the better option.

“Yes, it is the logical opinion to have!” Fennrin yelled, unable to keep his frustration and anger at bay anymore even slightly. “She is less useful than me, therefore—”

“She’s less important than you,” Ainreth cut him off with a disappointed look that actually made Fennrin pause. Anger he could deal with, but this was something else.

But he wouldn’t let Ainreth win this. Ain knew Fennrin was right, he had to know. He just didn’t want to admit it because the truth was harsh.

“Yes, damn you,” Fennrin hissed. “From a battle perspective, from the perspective of the safety of our whole country, I am more important than a powerless foot soldier.”

Ainreth had his teeth gritted, his face only a few inches away from Fennrin’s. “That powerless foot soldier risked her life to save yours!”

“And she would do it again because that is what she is here to do!” Fennrin yelled back. “If you can’t see the logic in this, if you can’t get yourself to understand the necessity of this war even, then maybe you shouldn’t be one of the people leading it!”

And with that Fennrin melted into the shadows, slinking out of the tent and into the night outside, melding with the darkness.

He couldn’t handle this anymore. He didn’t want to keep arguing. His heart was breaking as it quickly washed over him just how many hurtful things they’d flung at each other.

So many things Fennrin didn’t mean, and he knew in his heart that Ainreth didn’t either. But they had been said and now the words hung in his mind, repeating themselves over and over, making his eyes sting.

Fennrin didn’t make it far, stopping at the edge of their camp, near a cluster of trees before turning physical again. He immediately collapsed into the grass by a tree, leaning back against its trunk as he rubbed his eyes, taking one heavy breath after another, choked up from tears he tried to hold back.

They’d never fought this badly before. It had never been this vicious. They’d gone out of their way to hurt each other, and Fennrin hated that he’d let his feelings cloud his judgement.

He wanted to go back to apologize, try to fix this, but he couldn’t get himself to move. All he could do was try to wipe his tears away before he was full on crying. He didn’t want anyone who might happen to walk by to think that he was weak.

Fennrin just sat there, putting a hand over his mouth to make sure no noises made their way out of his mouth, finally letting his tears fall as he curled in on himself, pulling his knees up to his chest.

Knowing it was pointless to resist, he let himself cry for a moment, his heartbreak overwhelming him, sobs shaking his whole body, his eyes closed, but he refused to make noise, keeping his mouth firmly closed and covered.

Until a voice suddenly spoke right next to him.

“Are you okay, Fenn?”

Fennrin flinched, hurriedly wiping his eyes, swallowing as he tried to get himself to calm down a little, blinking blearily up at the person standing next to him.

“O-oh. Daryan.” Now he felt doubly as embarrassed by his emotional outburst, getting up and wiping his eyes and nose into his sleeve. “Apologies, I—”

“I assume something happened with Ainreth?” Daryan asks softly, his voice soothing. Fennrin truly didn’t understand how Ain thought Daryan was a master manipulator. He was always so earnest.

“It…did,” Fennrin said, not really wanting to talk about it. Though that was a lie. He did want to talk. It was simply easier not to. He wouldn’t cry like a weakling in front of the leader of Lys-Akkaria again if he bottled it up.

“It’s okay if you don’t wish to talk about it. I did not mean to disturb you. I was simply….” Daryan shook his head. “I suppose I was concerned about you.”

“I’m…okay,” Fennrin said, clearing his throat. “Apologies for worrying you.”

“Oh, come now, Fennrin, nothing to apologize for,” Daryan shook his head again, smiling at him softly and patting his shoulder. “Could I interest you in a nightcap? You do look like you need it.”

“I….” Fennrin bit his lip. He wasn’t really used to alcohol. He would have probably had some with Ain at some point, but after the last time he’d seen him drunk, he couldn’t have agreed to getting even tipsy with him it was difficult to encourage this.

But it was truly tempting right now. Perhaps he could drown some of his sorrows. It did seem a little inappropriate, though. “I would hate to bother you. Your time is too precious for—”

“Nonsense,” Daryan said, waving his hand dismissively. “Unless you would rather be alone right now, it is no trouble. I have no more work to do for tonight.”

Fennrin felt himself give in then, not resisting at all when the older man used the hand he still had on the shadowforger’s shoulder to gently nudge him toward the camp.

“Is it responsible to drink right now?” Fennrin weakly protested as he was led to Daryan’s tent. Even though he’d seen it before, he was surprised anew with how similar it was to all the soldiers’ tents. Nothing big or ostentatious—rather simple and functional.

And once he walked in, Fennrin was surprised even more at the furnishings. His first thought was that it made sense that the Herald would get the convenience of a chair and a table and a bed, but when he took a second to look at the items, he realized that they were all made of plants.

Thick branch upon branch knitted together, wrapped and held together by more branches, some even sprouting leaves, growing thicker as they neared the ground which they grew out of in thick bunches of wood.

“I will not let you get properly drunk, my dear, do not worry,” Daryan said in amusement, answering Fennrin’s almost forgotten question as he twirled his fingers elegantly, a branch shooting out of the table to grasp at the bottle of amber liquid on it, pulling it to Daryan and depositing it in his hand before retreating and becoming one with the furniture again.

Daryan turned to him with a somewhat sad smile. “Today has been difficult for all of us. I think we deserve a break.”

Daryan waved his hand, his fingers moving in a wave as a second chair sprouted from the first, green branches quickly forming a seat for him, the wood separating itself from the first chair and rooting in the ground, very quickly turning brown.

“I…I didn’t know sproutkeepers could have such control over plant life,” Fennrin muttered, unable not to be incredibly impressed by all of this.

Daryan smiled at him as he took a seat, waving Fennrin over to sit next to him at the table. “I have had much time to master the art. I do not like to show my talents off in public too much, however. Not knowing makes people underestimate me.”

His eyes sparkled in amusement as Fennrin sat down next to him gingerly, worried that the branch chair might not hold his weight, but he found it surprisingly solid, and also quite comfortable, the seat and the back rest smooth.

“I promise not to reveal your secret,” Fennrin said, touched that Daryan trusted him this much.

Daryan chuckled. “If you do, no harm done. Don’t worry. Most people wouldn’t believe than the High Herald is capable of much aside from talking.”

Fennrin frowned but didn’t ask what Daryan meant by that. Though he supposed he could understand. He wouldn’t have even known that the Herald was an az-ari if not for his impressive age, despite him looking middle-aged.

It seemed appearances tended to be deceiving when it came to Daryan.

Fennrin blinked when Daryan offered him the bottle of the amber drink, taking it hesitantly, sniffing it. He expected the usual tang of alcohol, but it smelled very herbal instead. And a hint of peaches, or something similar. “What is it?”

“I make it myself. I haven’t actually given it a name,” Daryan admitted, frowning to himself. “I do not care for most types of alcohol, so I made one that actually tastes good.”

Daryan chuckled, nodding at Fennrin as if to say that he could drink. Fennrin swallowed, feeling like he did need to numb himself a little and so he took a hesitant sip, making a surprised noise when the liquid hit his tongue, sweet and pleasant.

He took another sip, swallowing before giving the bottle back to Daryan, wanting to pace himself, not sure how strong the drink was. “Thank you.”

“Yes, of course, Fenn,” he smiled at him, taking a swig himself. “I apologize for not pouring you a drink, as would be polite. I did not pack glasses.”

Daryan added a little grin to his joke, which Fennrin found himself returning, already feeling warm inside, the drink working its way through him, making his sadness feel more distant.

“I am glad you weren’t hurt during the ambush,” Fennrin said, which Daryan smiled at.

“I suspect the ambush was meant for you just as much as it was meant for me,” he said, making Fennrin frown in confusion. It would make sense, of course, but he wasn’t sure what Daryan was talking about.

“So you were attacked?”

Daryan chuckled. “Well, yes, but it was very clear they expected me not to put up a fight.”

Fennrin’s eyes went wide, but he nodded. Right, that was exactly what Daryan had just said about people assuming he was a defenseless politician.

“Is that why you came with us? I was wondering about that.”

Daryan shrugged. “I know it must make the queen’s blood boil to know I have the audacity to be here, right next to battlefields, but the real reason I came with was to see your progress.”

Fennrin blinked, not sure what to do with this. Surely that couldn’t be true. “You…what?”

“Your growth has been…incredible. Both in power and in confidence.” Daryan smiled again, this time in an almost overwhelmingly fond way. “You carry yourself so much differently than when I first met you.”

Fennrin looks down at the hands in his lap, wondering if that was true. He hadn’t really noticed a change, but then again, he supposed he wouldn’t. He was too close to notice.

“Is that why you told Ain that you think I may be able to fight armies on my own one day?”

Daryan grimaced then, sighing as he put the bottle of his drink on the table. “I believe so, yes.” He nodded. “However, I mostly said that to strike a nerve.” He sighed, shame in his eyes. “Ainreth and I never got along, and currently, tensions are high all around. I am not proud of trying to feed his jealousy just to irritate him.”

Fennrin stared at him in even more shock and confusion. “Jealousy? What—”

“Oh, come now, Fenn, you must have noticed,” Daryan cut him off with a shake of his head. “It’s very clear Ainreth is jealous of your power. I assume he’s already tried to convince you to doubt yourself. Perhaps saying something about how if you keep going you may hurt someone accidentally?”

Fennrin stared at the table, trying to make sense of this. “Well, yes, but he said that because…he hurt someone. He was talking from experience.”

Daryan hummed sadly. “Yes, he certainly does have deniability.”

Fennrin didn’t know what to make of this. Could Ainreth truly be jealous? It would certainly explain why he’d taken those comments about Fennrin becoming so powerful he could be a one-man army to heart.

But it didn’t seem right. Surely Ain had just disliked that because of what it might do to Fennrin mentally.

“But do think about it, Fenn. He supported you right until you became his equal in terms of power. And suddenly he is trying to keep you from getting stronger?” Daryan shook his head. “It seems suspicious, to say the least.”

Fennrin said nothing to this, not even sure what he would say if he decided to open his mouth. Deny that Ainreth could possibly think like this even though he felt doubt clawing away at him? No, he needed to think this over properly first, talk with Ainreth about it. He was sure they could talk things out.

“I think I need to talk to Ainreth first.”

Daryan nodded. “A wise decision. The cause does seem rather obvious to me, but I could be wrong, of course. I hope things work out.”

Fennrin nodded, sighing. “I should…go talk to him.”

Daryan nodded, but Fennrin didn’t move, despite his words, continuing to stare at the table. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with this right now. He was so tired. “If I may be so bold to give advice.”

Fennrin nodded, looking back at Daryan.

“I would suggest leaving this for the morning. I assume tensions are still high?”

Fennrin’s shoulders sank, but he nodded again. He tried to focus on the buzz in his mind from the alcohol. That felt nice.

“We both said some hurtful things. But…do you truly think it would be best to wait?”

Daryan nodded. “The morning is wiser than the evening, as they say in these parts.”

Fennrin nodded, not sure if he should ask about Daryan’s Orinovan heritage. He was very curious about it, but he wasn’t sure if it would be rude to ask.

“I suppose I will sleep outside tonight,” Fennrin said, sighing. He didn’t really relish the thought, but sleeping next to Ain when they were angry with each other sounded horrible. It was unlikely he would get much sleep as it was, but he knew he’d get none like this.

“Nonsense, Fenn. You can sleep here, I do not mind.” Daryan waved his hand toward the bed. “I would make you a bed, but I do not have enough blankets to make it comfortable.”

Fennrin stared at him, blinking, not sure what to do. It seemed like far too much. To sleep in the same bed as the High Herald…. It simply seemed inappropriate. But what were his alternatives?

“Come now, my dear, the bed is more than large enough for the both of us. And we can stay back to back if that helps you?”

Fennrin chewed on his lip, picking up the bottle of Daryan’s drink and taking a gulp. He needed to relax a little, and the few simps he’d had weren’t enough. He knew his cheeks were red, but he hoped that in the dim tent, it wasn’t visible.

“Um, thank you,” he finally said. “But I doubt this will help things with Ain. He already seems very…protective of me when it comes to talking to you, much less this.”

Daryan’s face turned serious, almost sad. “It is not my place to meddle. However, it is also not Ainreth’s place to tell you who you can and cannot talk to. That decision falls to you, and to you only.”

Fennrin nodded hesitantly. He knew Daryan was right. It was simply difficult for him to get it through his head when it came to Ainreth.

“Yes. You are correct.” He sighed again, rubbing his eyes as he took another swig of the bottle. “I…I like talking to you.”

He hoped his candor wouldn’t make things awkward later because the alcohol was making him talk, and he couldn’t really get himself to not be so truthful.

Daryan didn’t seem to mind, though, smiling at Fennrin fondly. “And I you. I haven’t met anyone as interesting as you in decades.”

Fennrin’s face went completely red, staring at Daryan, baffled. “W-what?”

“It’s true,” Daryan said, taking the bottle from Fennrin so he could drink instead. “The moment I saw you for the first time, I knew I was staring fate in the face. I knew you would be great. And look at you, Notsisyk. You already have a terrifying Orinovan nickname.”

“You never doubted me?” Fennrin breathed, his heart fluttering. He knew it was bad to feel good about hearing these things, but he did. He yearned to be told he was good, that he was useful, that he could make a difference for the better.

“Not for a single moment.” Daryan smiled warmly. “I have very good intuition. I knew you would be special. But perhaps you are even more special than I thought initially.”

His eyes lingered on Fennrin for a while too long before he turned his attention to the bottle he’d put on the table again.

Fennrin looked down at his hands. Was he really that special? He was rare, but he’d never thought special was a word he’d be worthy of. The only reason he’d felt special was being with Ainreth, but he couldn’t feel nice about that right now given what exchange they’d had just moments later.

“Despite everything that has happened today, I suggest you look at the big picture,” Daryan says, looking at Fennrin with a small smile. “We have lost a battle, not the war. And despite what regrettable things you and Ainreth may have said to each other, I’m certain you will get through it.”

Fennrin nodded, swallowing thickly. Daryan sounded so sure. He hoped he was right.

“I have no doubts we will win this war and finally free not only our people from constant fear of our neighbor, but also the Orinovan people from tyranny. With your help.”

Daryan raised the bottle again, as if to toast his words.

“I will do what I can to bring Lys-Akkaria victory,” Fennrin said, meaning every single word. He understood why Ainreth didn’t like what they’d been doing, but that changed nothing about seeing the necessity in it.

“I know you will,” Daryan said, patting his shoulder with a smile. “You’ve done so much for Lys-Akkaria, and yet it has done so little for you.”

Daryan’s eyes grew sad. He took a sip of the drink before handing the bottle to Fennrin, who sighed and took it, taking a gulp. It was making him feel relaxed and numbed, and right now he needed both.

“No one owes me anything,” Fennrin said, still not sure how to handle praise. He’d never gotten much of it, and though he’d learned to mostly accept it from Ainreth, that was where it ended.

“I disagree.” Daryan huffed a laugh. “You are far too modest. But I respect your answer. Know that if there is ever anything you need, know I will do my best to help you acquire it.”

Fennrin was surprised at how sincere the other man sounded, but he smiled at him, the alcohol making him much less awkward than he would be usually.

“That’s very kind of you.” He smiled. “Thank you…Daryan.”

It still felt strange to call him by his first name, despite being told many times that Daryan preferred it. But it felt right.

“You are very welcome, Fenn.” He nodded at the bottle in Fennrin’s hand. “To a brighter tomorrow, eh?”

Fennrin took another gulp of the drink before handing it to Daryan, feeling himself becoming unfocused from the alcohol. He was perfectly relaxed, his belly warm and his mind abuzz.

“Yes, to a brighter tomorrow,” he repeated as he watched Daryan drink. He certainly prayed that it would be brighter.