Break the Day (Nightstar Book 1)
Chapter 12

Even after getting dragged by Ainreth to a shop to get a new, fancy jacket, Fennrin felt underdressed for the feast. All around him were people of such high stature, wearing luxurious outfits, and eating food he had only ever heard of, like oysters.

Why anyone other than the most hungry would decide to eat the creature living in a shell in a lake was beyond him, but he didn’t dare question it. He just kept staring at the beautiful decorations for Dragonrise, namely the many paper lanterns in the shape of dragons. But even beyond the decorations for the celebration, he was in awe of the crystal chandeliers, the dark red walls decorated with golden patterns, and even the ceiling, with swirling lines running over the whole, massive space of it.

He and Ainreth were sitting next to each other around a massive, round table filling most of the room, with a large circular hole in the middle, from where the palace servants were bringing them food.

To say that Fennrin felt out of his element would be an understatement. In fact, he felt terribly awkward, partly because due to him sitting next to Ainreth, everyone around them had stared at him at some point during the evening, and partly because Ainreth had been drinking again, and they were barely done with the main course, most of the people around them still finishing their food.

Fennrin wanted to be understanding. Ainreth was grieving—had been for a long time—and it seemed his way of dealing with it was drinking something and unwinding, but did he have to insist on flirting with Fennrin while doing that? The tearful conversation they’d had last night had been enough. But now there was nowhere to hide, and he couldn’t protest too much without causing a scene, which he couldn’t afford to do. He needed these nobles to like him, or at least tolerate him. If he made a good impression on them—or at least a neutral one—they might help with influencing the commoners.

But every time Ainreth made a comment about how pretty Fennrin’s eyes were, or about how he wanted to kiss him, it tore at his heart. He wanted to give in, but he knew he’d just end up with a broken heart. Ainreth didn’t seem interested in a long-term relationship, and he didn’t say these things when he wasn’t drunk.

Fennrin watched through narrowed eyes as Ainreth’s empty champagne glass was filled up by one of the servants, who also seemed annoyed by this, seeing as she’d had to do this several times already. Good, at least it wasn’t the only one affected by this.

“So, um,” Ainreth said, clearing his throat before giving Fennrin a blinding, painfully beautiful smile. It always made his insides flutter to have this look directed at him, much to his annoyance. He was too far gone. “D’you like me, Fenn?”

Fennrin couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Ainreth had said that in such a nervous tone of voice, also. As if he wasn’t handsome enough to get anyone he wanted into his bed. Fennrin turned his attention back to his meal. The grilled duck tasted incredible, but due to the circumstances, he could barely taste it. “Yes, of course I like you, Ainreth. I am very grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

Ainreth shook his head, downing his champagne glass and already motioning for the servant to refill it. “Y’know that isn’t what I mean.”

Fennrin sighed. Yes, he knew that. He knew that far too well.

His eyes found his own champagne glass, and he grabbed it without thinking, swallowing down half of it. He vaguely noted that it was very sweet, but his mind was buzzing too much to appreciate that. He just wanted to take the edge off.

“Whoa, hey, you’re not used to drinking,” Ainreth almost scolded him, though despite his frown, his eyes were worried. “You need to take it slow.”

“You’re not doing that. Why should I?” Fennrin grumbled, finishing his glass. Hopefully, soon he’d be tipsy. The lightweaver was correct—he wasn’t used to alcohol—which meant that he should be able to get drunk easier.

“Because I’m used to it,” Ainreth argued a bit too loudly, now pouting. Fennrin put the now empty glass down, a pang in his heart. He hated making Ainreth pout, no matter how adorable it was. The man was grinning again now, though. “But that’s okay. I’ll carry you back home if you need it.”

Fennrin blushed, staring intently down at his food. He could feel the champagne dulling the edge a little bit, but it wasn’t enough. He didn’t think it would be from just a single glass, but he wasn’t comfortable drinking more. He didn’t want to get drunk, not really. It was just the only way he could deal with Ainreth’s advances.

“I’ll…be right back. I need some air.”

Ainreth was pouting again, looking like a kicked puppy. If anything, that just made Fennrin feel worse, but he truly needed to get away from this for a while. Or he was risking giving in. And who knew what kind of consequences there would be for that? If he allowed Ainreth to seduce him, then he didn’t think he’d manage to stay at his house anymore. But where else could he go? Maybe the Bulwark would be able to offer him a place with the military, but that would no doubt involve him joining it.

Fennrin sighed, getting up and leaving the grand hall, trying to ignore the many eyes watching his every move. He wanted to slink off into the shadows, be embraced by their comforting darkness, but he would need to go somewhere no one would see him. He didn’t want to scare anyone. He had watched himself turn into a shadow in a mirror, and it was quite disturbing to see his body dissolve like that. Better not risk it.

He ran his eyes over the corridor, surprised at how many people there were, standing, drinking, and chatting with each other. Even though the door had been open the entire time, Fennrin hadn’t noticed all the noise coming from out here. But barely anyone seemed to notice him, which was good enough for him. He had gotten enough attention today.

He started to wander aimlessly, trying to clear his head while also not losing sight of where he was going. He had gotten lost in the palace before, and he hadn’t been in this part of it before, so he had to be careful.

A brief flash of stark white hair from the corner of his eye made him pause, but when he looked behind him, whoever it had been was now gone, lost among the other guests. Fennrin shook his head and continued, heaving a sigh.

When he reached an empty spot by a window, he took a moment to stop, running his eyes over the dark garden outside. He couldn’t see much aside from the shapes of topiaries, but that was partly due to the fact that snow had fallen last night, covering everything like a heavy, white blanket.

He found himself staring at nothing in particular, not even thinking about anything, just staring. It gave him a little peace of mind at least. At least until someone tapped his shoulder.

Fennrin turned around, fully expecting it to be Ainreth, but instead, he was met with a tall, handsome man, with light brown hair and deep, green eyes. Fennrin wasn’t sure whether to tense up more or less.

“Excuse me, are you the shadowforger?” the man asked, keeping his voice down as he blushed, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I apologize for being so forward.”

“It’s, um, okay,” Fennrin said, trying to not let his nervousness show. He wasn’t used to talking about this with strangers. And he was especially not used to strangers being this interested in him being a shadowforger. “And yes.”

The man smiled brightly, though there was still embarrassment in his eyes as he looked off to the side at the other guests. “I hope this doesn’t come across as…strange, but I came here, hoping I could meet you.”

Fennrin scowled, even though he felt flattered. It was simply so unlikely that someone would be excited to see him that it was difficult to accept. And he had no idea what to say to this man, either.

“Do you think we could talk somewhere more private?” the man asked, ducking his head, a slight blush making his pale cheeks pink. “I feel awkward enough gushing about you, never mind in such a public place.”

Fennrin opened his mouth, about to refuse, but something stopped him. He didn’t want to be rude to one of the very few people who expressed interest in him, especially in his abilities. He mostly wanted to refuse anyway because it felt too good to be true. And while he’d lived for nine years thinking things don’t get better, him being here was proof enough of the opposite.

All he managed to say was an unsure noise, though. “Er.”

“Hey, asshole!”

Fennrin flinched, his head snapping to the left to see Ainreth marching over to them, stumbling as he pushed past everyone, his index finger pointed at the man accusingly. And of course everyone was now staring at Ainreth. Fennrin once again longed to become a shadow, just to avoid this whole incident that was going to happen.

“Fenn’s my boyfriend, not yours,” Ainreth snapped at the man when he reached them, grasping Fennrin’s shoulders almost possessively, which Fennrin immediately put a stop to by shaking the hand off.

“We are not together, Ainreth,” he hissed at him. He couldn’t believe Ainreth was doing this. He must have been more drunk than Fennrin had thought to get possessive over someone for the heinous crime of talking to Fennrin, which was especially ridiculous because they weren’t together. No matter how much Fennrin wished for them to be.

“Why not, though?” Ainreth whined, putting on his kicked-puppy look again. Fennrin sighed, truly considering just dissolving in front of everyone, when the man who had been talking to him decided to join the conversation.

“Um, I’ll just talk to you later?”

Fennrin sighed, turning to him. “No, the general was just leaving.”

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere!” Ainreth threw a hurt look Fennrin’s way before glaring at the stranger, pushing himself between him and Fennrin. “Something ’bout you’s off.”

Fennrin sighed, rubbing his forehead as the man scowled back at Ainreth. He’d been hoping they could just forget about what had happened, but clearly, they would need to have a talk, and soon.

“I imagined the great Daybreaker would be more polite than that,” the man snarked, which made Ainreth snort.

“I dunno why people keep doin’ that. I do my best to fight that misconception.” Then Ainreth laughed again, much to Fennrin’s annoyance. He didn’t like when Ainreth talked about himself like that, but he was also angry with him, so he was torn on what to say. “Now who in the thousand suns ’re you?”

The man’s eyes flicked from Ainreth to Fennrin, clearing his throat and glaring. “Joahn Tyr-Anorin, not that I owe you my name, Tyr-Naralyn.”

“Sounds fake.”

Fennrin groaned, putting his face in his hands. He was glad that they had at least gone from embarrassing to infuriating, though, as he found it easier to deal with that. As much as he didn’t want to leave this man alone with Ainreth, Fennrin was starting to consider simply walking off. He had come here to get away from all of this, after all.

“Fake?! How dare you accuse me like this?”

Ainreth took an unsteady step closer to the other man, apparently unbothered that he was half a head taller. “How dare you flirt with Fenn?”

The stranger’s eyes were bulging out now, a furious scowl on his face. Ainreth truly had a gift in irritating people. Fenn took a subtle step away, then another one, inching away from them, trying desperately not to meet the eyes of any of the people absorbing the drama.

“What, is that not allowed in this country?”

“Flirt with anyone y’want. Except for my future husband!”

Fennrin froze in place, staring with wide eyes at Ainreth. The lightweaver was too busy glaring at the stranger, not looking at Fennrin, but that was probably for the best. He’d called him…. Did he truly want a relationship with Fennrin? And not just a relationship—apparently drunk Ainreth wanted them to marry. And he had said it with such conviction too. Fennrin swallowed, his heart swelling while his stomach fluttered uncomfortably. He had no idea what to think, what to say.

“What a strange thing t’say,” Ainreth continued in the meantime, still glaring, though his voice was thoughtful. At least as thoughtful as it could be with him slurring his words. “You really are a spy, aren’t you? Not Lys-Akkarian at all.”

Fennrin wasn’t sure what should shock him more, the fact that the man’s wide, shocked eyes proved Ainreth correct, or that apparently his intuition had been right all this time, and it hadn’t just been jealousy.

“Priori kervo!” the man cursed at Ainreth before bolting, dashing down the corridor, pushing people out of the way as he went. Still too dazed from everything that had just happened, Fennrin didn’t manage to grab his shadow before the man was too far away.

“Blight, I was right?!” Ainreth cried, apparently shocked by this turn of events. Fennrin stared at him with disbelief.

“He’s getting away!” Turning into a shadow, Fennrin slunk around corners, slipping the alarmed guests’ shadows as he moved as quickly as possible, trying to catch up with the spy. Or whatever he was. He was certainly from Orinovo, though, that much was clear.

“Wait!” Ainreth yelled after him, apparently also following. Fennrin wished he could tell him to stay put, considering the state he was in, but he couldn’t say anything as a shadow. All he could do was zip under everyone, already able to see the Orinovan again as he took a sharp turn. Fennrin followed, having no idea where the spy was heading but not really caring, only focused on finding him.

Much to his shock, Fennrin followed him to large, glass doors leading outside to a garden in an empty part of the palace. Fennrin caught up just as the Orinovan swung the door open and disappeared into the night, but Fennrin wouldn’t let that stop him. From what he could see in the dark, the garden had a wall around it, with only the neatly trimmed hedges being a potential way to hide.

Now not limited by the light inside anymore, Fennrin freely flew forth, looking for the spy around the walls. But he was nowhere to be seen, even as Fennrin made his way from one wall to the next, looking for an exit the man could have possibly used.

At least until he heard a cry of pain. Turning his attention back to the entrance to the palace, he would have gasped if he could at the sight of Ainreth trying to wrestle the spy away from him, the Orinovan holding a dagger, trying to stab Ainreth with it, while Ainreth had both his hands around the spy’s wrist, trying to keep the sharp blade from piercing his heart.

Fennrin didn’t think. In the blink of an eye, he was behind the spy, sliding into his shadow and still his movements.

“What…?” The spy let out a shocked, disturbed cry at the realization that he couldn’t move his body, while Ainreth let go of him, breathing hard, holding his right shoulder. Fennrin almost flinched when he saw blood seeping into his cloak in that spot, its white color showing the dark red easily. The spy must have managed to cut him earlier, Fennrin thought angrily. But he couldn’t move. The moment he did, the spy could try to stab Ainreth again, or try to run off. Fennrin didn’t want to risk either.

“Thanks, Fenn,” Ainreth breathed, hissing as he pressed his hand down on his shoulder.

“I will tell you nothing,” the Orinovan said, now with a thick accent. It had been clear he’d been putting on an act the entire time, but it was jarring to hear him sound like that. “You may as well kill me now.”

For a split second, Fennrin wanted to do what the man was telling them to and simply snap his neck for daring to hurt Ainreth, but he knew that was a terrible idea for many reasons. If he killed the spy, they would never find out what his mission here had been. Or if there were more like him.

Ainreth grabbed the man’s dagger, prompting Fennrin to let go of its shadow so Ainreth could yank it out of the man’s hold. Despite his bleeding shoulder, Ainreth pointed the dagger at the spy almost playfully, waving it a bit, as if the pain didn’t bother him. Fennrin wondered how many times he’d gotten injured in the past.

“We’ll see about that.”

As he said this, palace guards flooded the garden, surrounding the spy. Fennrin could probably let go of him at that point, but he waited for Ainreth’s say, just to make sure the guards were ready to grab him.

But before anyone could do anything, a sudden light in the darkness brought everyone’s attention back to the palace, namely its roof. And the fire that was consuming it.

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