Raze the Night (Nightstar Book 2)
Chapter 27

Ainreth really, really wanted to spend the next month at least drunk in whichever tavern would take him.

The rumors had been true. Varilik really had decided to steal Fenn from Ain. And it was sort of obvious that had been his plan all along, wasn’t it? Who kissed an acquaintance on the cheek randomly? Who invited them to get a drink in the middle of the night and then let them sleep in the tent that only had one bedroll in it?

And now there was no doubt Fennrin was well and truly on the Herald’s side. Fenn wouldn’t get together with him if he didn’t agree with him on core issues.

It made Ainreth sick to think about it all. But he couldn’t stop.

The problem with that was that Petre wasn’t letting him get drunk enough to forget about his troubles.

“Something bad is going to happen,” Petre said after successfully wrestling Ainreth’s wine bottle away from him.

Ain had mostly let them win this one, not having the strength to fight in any way, but he was still annoyed. “Something awful already happened.”

Petre sighed, rubbing their eyes. “Ain, you need to pull yourself together. Varilik is planning something. We don’t know what yet, but there’s a lot of tension.”

“There’s a lot of tension in here, too,” Ainreth grumbled, not really listening. If he couldn’t drink, he wanted to go sleep. Ideally forever.

But before he could even think to go do that, Petre grabbed him by his shirt and shook him, making Ain blink at them in shock.

“Get it together, Ain,” Petre snapped, scowling up at him as they let go off his shirt. Ainreth blinked some more. Petre had never been this proactive in getting him to shut up and stop being an idiot. “There have already been attacks on people with Orinovan ancestry.”

Ain immediately frowned, his eyes wide with concern. “No one dared hurt you, right?”

Petre sighed as Ain checked them over for any injuries or bruises. “No. And even if someone tried, I can handle myself. But not everyone here is a soldier.”

Ainreth rubbed his eyes. He had to give it to Petre. This was making him care about the situation, but he couldn’t say he was feeling any less depressed now.

“So because some random Orinovan tried to kill Varilik, people are immediately using it as an excuse to harass others?”

Petre let out a tired breath. “Yes.” They narrowed their eyes. “The Herald is planning something. That’s why I need you to pull yourself together and help us.”

Ainreth nodded, letting out a sigh. He was so emotionally exhausted. But Petre was right. This was going to get worse before it got better. He had shut out everything and everyone enough that he’d completely missed what had been happening over the last few days.

He couldn’t say he was surprised, though. The moment people had an easy target for their frustrations and fears, they took it. Especially if they were a whole group.

“Okay. What do you need done?”

Petre shook their head. “No, in general. We need you to stick with us. Everyone looks up to you. You’re the sole reason we’ve had more public support than Varilik.”

Sun, he knew they were right. But that didn’t make this any easier. It would be easier to distract himself with this if it didn’t involve directly fighting against Fenn.

“I….” Ainreth rubbed his eyes. He really needed alcohol. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right. But Fenn—”

“He chose his side,” Petre said, venom in their voice. Were they mad at Fennrin? That made Ain want to defend him, but he was too conflicted to say anything. “Which side do you choose, Ain?”

Ainreth took a deep breath, pulling together all the strength he had left. “Anti-war. I’m with you. We’ll put a stop to this.”

Petre nodded, pride in their eyes as they patted Ain’s shoulder. “Thank you.” They sighed then, their face turning pensive as they frowned. “We should go to the main square. The Herald is supposed to have a speech there soon.”

Ainreth’s stomach turned at that thought. “Will Fenn be there?”

Petre nodded grimly. “It is fair to assume he will be at the Herald’s side all the time now.”

Ain turned his heartbroken eyes to the floor, shuffling over to the door to grab his jacket.

“I’m sorry, Ain,” Petre said, their voice full of sympathy. Ainreth nodded, sighing heavily.

“It’s my fault anyway,” he said quietly, his head hung low. “I pushed him away. Right into that slimy misborn’s arms. I just couldn’t see it until it was too late.”

Ainreth walked outside, Petre joining his side soon. “I disagree. Fennrin is an adult. He makes his own choices.”

Ainreth shut his eyes, still walking as his heart broke some more. “He got manipulated.” He takes a deep breath. “I need to talk to him.”

Petre said nothing, not that they needed to. He knew what they were thinking. Fenn hadn’t wanted to talk to him before, and he would definitely not want to now that he was with Varilik.

Moon help him, every time he thought of that, he wanted to vomit.

They slowly made their way to the square in silence, but that didn’t mean things were peaceful and quiet. The closer they got to their destination, the noisier the streets became, people yelling at each other, arguing.

Ainreth ignored it all, only really taking in that it was indeed happening because he didn’t have the energy to care. But that changed when someone yelled at Petre as they were passing a group of shouting fools.

“I know that one! He’s an Orinovan freak!”

Ainreth paused, looking at the woman pointing her finger at Petre. Petre kept walking, ignoring her, but Ain was standing where he’d paused, glaring daggers at her.

“Clearly you have good eyes. Would be a shame to get them burned out of your skull,” he growled, not feeling like being even just a little patient anymore. Whoever insulted Petre deserved a beating at the very least.

“Ain, let’s just go,” Petre tried, pulling on Ainreth’s arm, but Ain refused.

“Traitor!” one of the others yelled at Ain specifically. “Coward. Working with Orinovans. I cannot believe I thought you were a hero.”

“Then we agree on something,” Ainreth mused, raising his hand to shine intense light at the group, targeting their eyes. It wouldn’t do much more than making lights dance in their visions for a while, but he was certain it would be enough to make his point.

As they yelled and covered their eyes, Ainreth couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied with himself.

“Talk to Petre like that again, even look at them wrong, and I will do much worse.” He turned around, looking at everyone in the street watching in shock, fear, and less often outrage. “That goes for all of you.”

Only then did Ainreth set off again, glaring at everyone around him. His hands were clenched into fists, he suddenly realized. He didn’t relax them.

It had felt very good to punish the protesters for harassing Petre, though. A welcome change to his all-consuming sadness.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Petre muttered as they kept walking. “This will only make the tensions worse.”

Ainreth shook his head. “No one is going to target you anywhere ever. I’m done playing nice. If they can act like this, then so can I.”

The fire burning in his chest made him feel very alive. Ainreth welcomed it, even though it was temporary.

Petre just sighed, but they said nothing. Ain had no doubts that they agreed, even if they maybe didn’t want to. They didn’t tend to let things like this slide without expressing their disagreement.

“Has this happened before?” The thought made Ain angrier.

Petre shrugged. “It always has. Do you remember when I became your lieutenant? It happened frequently before that happened.”

Ainreth nodded, frowning. “I remember temporarily blinding some misborn for bullying you?”

Petre nodded right back. “That. But more. I am quite used to it.”

Ainreth gritted his teeth. He was a mess right now, so he knew his fury at being reminded of how Petre was being treated wasn’t completely in check, but he couldn’t help it. He really wanted to hit someone.

Starting with himself. He’d said things about Orinovo that Petre had no doubt found hurtful before. It was simply so easy to fall into the trap of talking about Orinovo’s government and its people as one, and an enemy at that.

It wasn’t fair, and he was especially ashamed because one of his moms was Orinovan. Ainreth had been doing his best to not do it ever again if he could help it.

“Well, enough is enough, okay?” Ain said, scowling at Petre with determination. “I will big brother protect you.”

Petre smiled at him, looking highly amused as they nodded. “Yes, of course. I just hope it won’t cause more problems.”

Ainreth shook his head. “They started it. I will simply end it.”

They kept walking in silence, thankfully avoiding any other encounters with more ignorant misborns. The tension was inescapable though. Ainreth must have missed it only by being too stuck in his head and drunk.

It made the streets he knew so well seem strange and unfriendly. He didn’t like this at all. And now he felt guilty for ignoring this for days. This was much bigger than him and Fennrin, and he needed to be responsible. Even if it was difficult.

When they arrived at the square, the place was packed. Not even Ainreth’s annual speeches pulled in such crowds, and those were always popular for some reason.

Ain swallowed, his stomach sinking with dread. Whatever Varilik was going to say or announce, he had a feeling it was going to be bad.

It was quite easy to tell which group had which opinions because upon arrival some people were glaring at them. Ainreth ignored them, choosing to go to the side of the people not doing that.

He couldn’t see the podium with a lectern very well from here, but maybe it was for the best. The less Ainreth saw of Varilik, the better.

Ainreth spent the next half hour glaring at the podium, only interrupted by occasionally someone taller than him moving in front of him and obscuring his view, but never for long.

Once Varilik arrived with Fenn, though, Ainreth yearned to have his view be blocked once more.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he watched Fennrin, grimacing. He seemed different somehow, and it wasn’t just his new clothing. He carried himself with more confidence as he followed Varilik up to the lectern, standing by him, scanning the crowd with a gaze Ain couldn’t read.

Ainreth had no idea what to think of that. But he doubted it was good.

He could barely tear his eyes away from Fennrin as Varilik started talking. But once he did, anger burned within him once more from just looking at the misborn’s smug face. He wanted to punch him again. The evidence of Ainreth breaking his nose a few weeks ago was still there though, in the form of a faded bruise. At least something.

“Welcome everyone,” Varilik said with his calm the masses voice. It had always grated Ainreth. The Herald was always so nice and patient. At least until a person displeased him. That was how he’d ensnared Fenn, after all. It couldn’t be anything else.

But Ain couldn’t stop Fennrin now. It was too late. He knew he wouldn’t listen to him, especially because it would seem as though Ainreth was jealous. Which he was, but this way bigger than that.

“The last few days have been a little turbulent, to say the least,” Varilik continued, making Ain snort. That was one way to put it.

There was muttering from the people around him and Petre, but it ended the moment Varilik spoke again.

“But Lys-Akkaria is strong. It always has been. I’ve seen it rise from nothing. I’ve seen it be put through trials and tribulations. But Lys-Akkaria never falls.”

Ainreth rolled his eyes. He hated that he knew this was working on people, but it was such a basic speech. Though Ain supposed Varilik was the one person who could say these things, being as old as the country itself.

That itself should have been enough for Fenn to reject his advances. What was he thinking?

Ainreth once again looked at the shadowforger, seeing him watching Varilik intently.

“However, sometimes, due to said troubles, we do not act in the best ways,” Varilik said, looking over the entire crowd as if he was a father disappointed in his unruly children. Ainreth still wanted to punch him, but he was glad that the man was criticizing the harassment.

“The rise in hatefulness toward ethnic Orinovans in our country is unacceptable,” Varilik continued, clearly having no intentions to pull any punches. Ainreth begrudgingly agreed with Varilik there as well.

A small group of people off somewhere to Ainreth’s right booed, and Varilik immediately fixed them with a glare. “And it will not be tolerated. The actions of one individual will never be used to punish those who share an identity with them. The only aspect that shall be judged is their character and their actions.”

Ainreth felts a chill run down his back at the tone the Herald had used. He sounded just as calm as usual, but there was a sharp edge in every single word. It was clear he was very angry, even if he didn’t show it on his face. And finally it clicked.

Varilik was an ethnic Orinovan, as he’d just put it. No wonder he was angry. This was personal to him.

Ainreth somehow doubted, though, that Varilik cared about anyone other than himself being affected here.

“With that said, however, the Royal Court has had an idea of how to ease the new tension.” Varilik pulled a scroll from within his jacket, making Ainreth get up onto his toes so he could see better what was going on.

After unrolling the scroll, the Herald showed it to the crowd. Ainreth frowned, not liking this already, even though the only thing he could see were the four seals of each of the Courtiers hanging from the bottom of it.

“In an effort to keep the peace between all of our citizens, we have decided on an important step,” Varilik said, making a dramatic pause. Ain held his breath. “Every single ethnic Orinovan living in Lys-Akkaria will publicly sign documentation declaring that they are loyal to our country, and that they had nothing to do with the attack that took place.”

A murmur went around the crowd while Ainreth stared at Varilik in shock. He couldn’t just do that. He couldn’t force people to do that. It was humiliating, and it would only lead to more harassment through being publicly shown as Orinovan. It usually wasn’t obvious, aside from people’s names.

“You can’t do that, we’ve done nothing!” one man yelled, more joining in, their voices mixing into incomprehensible noise. But their well-placed outrage was still understandable.

“Then you surely do not mind proving that by signing this documentation,” Varilik replied loudly to talk over everyone else, his voice pleasant on the surface, dangerous underneath. “As you know, I am Orinovan as well. And therefore I will sign it first.”

Ainreth looked at Petre, replaceing only rage in their expression. Ain couldn’t blame them. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if he was being forced to sign that he wasn’t a traitor to the country he loved and had lived in his whole life, simply based on ethnicity.

Ainreth gritted his teeth, looking back at the Herald who was currently receiving another paper and a quill from a servant. Ain decided then—Petre wasn’t going to sign that paper. And neither was his mother.

Once the Herald was done signing it, he looked at the murmuring crowd again. “This document is a list of names. We do know who’s signatures we need. So for your sakes and for the sake of peace in this country, I implore you to not be foolish and simply add your signature.”

Ainreth’s blood boiled, his fists clenched at his sides. How could Varilik dare to try to put the burden of maintaining peace in Lys-Akkaria on its victims? But of course he’d say that. Varilik always liked to play the reasonable, kind ruler. Ordering people to do this directly would be cruel.

As if this wasn’t more so.

“You have three days to comply. If you do not, I am afraid we will have no choice but to investigate you for potential sympathizing with the Orinovan regime.”

A deafening cry of outrage followed from the crowd, both from the people against the war and its supporters, though there was cheering as well. Ainreth was surprised by that at first, but he supposed it made sense. Varilik had threatened them too earlier.

Through all the booing and celebrations Ainreth caught a voice of someone bemoaning the fact that they voted for a dirty Orinovan to be the Herald. Even when applied to Varilik, Ainreth didn’t like hearing that.

“And do not forget, any unprovoked assault of ethnic Orinovans will result in harsh punishments,” Varilik’s voice boomed over everything. “There will be no tolerance for such hateful expressions. We will maintain peace in this city by force if necessary.”

Varilik then looked at Fennrin meaningfully, and Fenn nodded at him. As if the Herald expected him to deal with any problem personally, but the sounds of protest did grow softer. And was it just Ain or was everything darker than it was just minutes prior?

He looked back at Fenn, noticing that the index finger of his left hand was very slightly moving in a tiny circle.

Intimidation tactic, then. No doubt Varilik’s idea, and Ainreth hated that it was working. There was something intensely uncomfortable, unnatural, to be in shadows when above them the sky was perfectly blue, no clouds in sight.

And clearly everyone also felt the same because they fell silent, looking at each other as if expecting monsters to jump out of their shadows.

“Good,” said Varilik. Ain was certain that to everyone else, the Herald sounded pleasant, especially paired with Fenn’s shadows dissipating. But Ainreth couldn’t see him as anything other than smug. “We cannot allow animal instincts dictate how we act. If we stay united, we will win. This crisis will pass, and Lys-Akkaria will stand prouder than ever before. But you have to be strong. We will get through this.”

And with that Varilik handed the person who’d brought the quill the document for signing, heading back down from the podium with Fennrin behind him, guards pushing people aside so Varilik could actually leave.

People started yelling their protests again, but with much less conviction this time, clearly intimidated.

More people and guards walked up onto the stage, clearly meaning to start taking the signatures of the Orinovans present. And some did seem to walk closer, looking back nervously.

Ainreth looked at Petre, putting a hand on their shoulder.

“You’re not signing that,” Ainreth said.

Petre sighed. “I have to, don’t I? I could be arrested if I don’t.”

Ainreth shook his head, tightening his hold on Petre’s shoulder. “Over my dead body. You served this country for years. You don’t have to prove you’re not a traitor.”

Petre set their jaw as they watched a few people walk up to the podium to sign the paper, but they said nothing. Ainreth huffed.

“I have to talk to Fenn. He can’t agree with this.”

Petre scowled some more. “He was right there. He didn’t seem conflicted at all.”

“I have to try,” Ain said, pushing past everyone to get through the crowd, intent on replaceing Fennrin.

Fenn had to see this was messed up. He had to.