Phoenix of Hope: Complete Series — Books 1-4

by Zora Marie

  “We really need to talk about what exactly you can do.”

  She could have sworn she felt a little huff of amusement come from him. “Once you have your stone, you’ll be able to make one of these too. As for other powers, think of Rogath, only on a much smaller scale.”

  “So, was that you controlling the f—” her words cut short as a boulder launched from the castle wall.

  Raven tilted, gliding past the huge rock with practiced ease. “I think Gregory just declared whatever alliance you had void.”

  “Yeah, I’d say so. Can your shield deflect those?”

  “Not ones that big. Not without something to anchor the shield to and even then…”

  “How are your earth bending skills?” Zelia asked.

  “Um. Yeah, I can’t break those up mid-flight. But I could…” Another bolder launched at them, too close for Raven to dodge, and Donequen clutched his amulet as he muttered another spell.

  Zelia braced for the collision, but instead of being slammed into by the bolder, the massive rock disintegrated into a glob of melted rock and ash. Donequen’s shield shuddered but held under the impact. Then they were there. Raven breathed fire on the catapults before they could be reloaded.

  “Try not to destroy all their defenses. We’ll need them later.”

  Donequen’s breaths were a ragged mess and she drew a new shield around them as his shield faltered.

  “Sorry… never done… that to something so large,” Donequen rasped.

  “I understand.” She patted his leg as she slid from Raven’s back. “Take a breather. I’ll deal with the guards.” She stalked across the wall, towards the line of men. They stopped shooting as their arrows bounced harmlessly from her shield. She wouldn’t burn them. She’d already decided she wouldn’t kill them as they were just taking orders. But their weapons. She tugged on the fire within herself and let it consume her until the air around her shimmered with the heat rising off her skin.

  The strings on every single one of their bows flared and burned away. Many of the men cursed as they dropped them. Then one of them brandished a sword at her and its tip turned orange before warping and splattering on the stone at her feet. Even she stared at it for a moment, a bit amazed at how well that had worked. She pulled the heat close to her, willing it not to burn the men.

  “Put your weapons down. I came here to warn and protect you, not attack you.” Zelia put as much command into her tone as she could muster, and their weapons lowered. “Where is Gregory?”

  Someone sprinted up the stairs behind the cluster of men. “Zelia…” the boy panted, straining to catch his breath.

  “What are you doing here?” one of the men growled at the boy, even as all the men stepped to protect him.

  “Father… Father has your friend, Tregar. He’s hurt.”

  A pulse of power thrummed out of Donequen and Zelia hoped that was the only tell he gave that they were close. She didn’t turn to see as she looked the boy up and down. He was young, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old. “You’re Gregory’s youngest?”

  The boy nodded and looked at the guards, his breath finally evening out. “My father. My brother. They’ve gone mad. They want to kill you, even after you saved us. It’s not right.” The guards lowered their weapons under the boy’s gaze.

  “Would you show us where they are?”

  The guard who had growled at the young prince stepped between them. “I can’t let you do that. You have no right to hurt them, no right to the throne.”

  “I have more right to the throne than Gregory does. I would have been glad to leave it to him. Now out of my way before I remind you what a child of the royal line—of gods—can do.” The man before her glanced down, as though thinking of the boy behind him. “I swear I won’t hurt him. I don’t kill children anymore, not now that I’m free.”

  The man nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly, before turning for the stairs. “I’ll go with you.”

  They followed the boy then, through the palace, to a room at the heart of the sprawling halls. They held Tregar in the center of the room. He was bleeding from where an arrow protruded from his chest. His hands were bound behind his back and there was a gag in his mouth. They must have studied him, how he performed spells before doing this. He squinted at her as though to say she wasn’t supposed to have come and the sound of arrows being loosed around her filled the air. She barely had time to throw a wall of fire around Donequen before the arrows hit her. She flinched as the arrow tips splattered against her skin as molten metal. Even Tregar’s eyes widened as she wiped the sludge from her face and turned to the men holding her friend.

  “Leave.” Her tone was cold and hard, void of the light she so cherished.

  “No. Kill them,” Gregory growled.

  “You won’t get a second chance.” She loosened her grip on her flames and let them trail along her hands and hair, and those men scattered like rats.

  As the men holding Tregar fled, Donequen leapt forward and caught him. Tregar grunted in pain at the movement and Donequen set to work unbinding his hands.

  Zelia looked from the king to his oldest son, at the rage that filled them both and shut the doors. “What did you think you would accomplish by doing this?” she asked without turning from where she bowed her head at the closed doors.

  “You’re a monster. You’d take our throne at the first chance you got.”

  “If I wanted your throne. If Skylar had wanted your throne. We could have, would have taken it by now. This,” she waved a hand at the empty room and then at herself as she turned, “is your own doing. I didn’t kill your brother. He died at the hands of the Fenari after refusing to let us help with magic. Your nephew swore an oath to protect and do right by their people. But this,” she pointed at Tregar, at the arrow protruding from his chest, “I can’t ignore you attacking one of my people, one of my friends.” She stalked towards them and let them squirm with fear. She could almost taste it, that acrid scent. But she stopped barely an arm’s length from them. “I can, however, give you a choice. Exile or death? Which would you prefer?”

  Prince Robert roared as he lunged at her, a dagger in hand. He barely made it a foot from her before his roar turned into a scream. She tried not to let herself hear it, let his face imprint into her memory as his skin burned to ash and he collapsed. His foot twitched once, and he did not move again.

  Gregory fell to his knees and his hands shook as they hovered over his eldest son, over what remained of him. “Death, I choose death,” Gregory rasped and did not even bother to look at her.

  She plunged her hand into the side of his head, where she knew his death would be instant. The heat rolling off her burned through him. Not even a gasp of pain left his lips before he slumped over his son’s charred body. She made herself not look as she burned them to ash. She hated that smell, the smell of burning hair and flesh, but she wouldn’t let Gregory’s youngest son see them like this. Remember them like this.

  36

  “Zelia,” Tregar rasped.

  She turned and stared at the arrow that protruded from his chest, at the way he cringed with each breath. She reached for the thread in her mind that connected her to Rogath and tugged. “Tregar’s hurt. We need Yalif, or his sister. Make sure someone comes with them to guard them though.”

  “Why? What’s happened? Are you alright?”

  She knew he could feel how she’d bottled herself back up, but she couldn’t stop burning just yet. She needed to see how the people, the guards, would react. “Gregory is dead. I… I have to purge the loyalists, if there are any. Send Yalif quickly, I don’t think we can safely move Tregar with an arrow so close to his heart.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Rogath is sending Yalif or his sister to heal you. Stay with him, Donequen, draw a shield around you both.”

  Donequen nodded. “Just be careful.”

  A shimmering shield of blue light sprang to life around them and she pulled the doors open. Only the man who ha
d stood between her and his prince lingered in the hallway. His gaze shifted from her to the smudge of ash on the ground and then back to her. She realized, as he stared at her, that he was there to warn everyone to flee if they needed to.

  “I promised I wouldn’t hurt the boy, and I won’t. Or will as little as I can given...” she tilted her head in the direction of the pile of ash.

  He nodded slightly. “I heard the choice you gave them. I’ll make sure he knows it.”

  “Is there anyone here who will hurt him or us for the choices made today?”

  He paused, debating his answer. “Who is the ruler now?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I am for now.”

  “What of Edward?”

  “I don’t know,” she repeated, slower this time. “For now, he can stay here, continue to live as he had. He’s too young to rule, especially with the Fenari attacking.” Zelia turned the silver ring on her finger, the metal cool to the touch as her inner flame didn’t dare touch that precious band of metal. She hated this, that she now felt trapped here when all she wanted was to be with Linithion. “Skylar should be back soon. I’ll send for him. He knows these walls. I know he’s studied how to defend them.”

  “I’ll see to dealing with people who might hurt Edward. People who might try to hurt you though...” He shrugged as though to say he wasn’t really sure who would try that.

  “Thank you. Would you also see if you can find a scrying bowl, or just a shallow black bowl?”

  “I’ll ask the women to look. I’m sure we have something you can use.”

  “Yalif’s headed that way.”

  “Thank you,” she thought back at Rogath and headed for the balcony Gregory had proclaimed her a god on. As she reached the balcony, she decided that she would accept that title, if it meant these people would accept Gregory’s death and do what they needed to defend themselves.

  There was a flash of light, a column of it shooting out of the sky, and then Yalif was there, standing in front of her with Gaeru at his side. Gaeru looked her up and down, then smirked. “You’re looking better.”

  “Nice to see you, too. Tregar’s this way.” She spun on her heel and led them back to the throne room.

  Gaeru whistled as he spotted the pile of ash at the far end of the room. “Who were they?”

  “King Gregory and his oldest son,” Zelia said.

  “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

  “Just don’t try to kill people I care about and you’ll be fine.”

  Gaeru looked at Tregar. “That one’s going to leave a mark.”

  Tregar just glared at him. Either because he feared injuring himself by talking or because he’d decided to return to his usual quiet ways.

  “You were right not to move him,” Yalif said as he pulled tools from the little bag he’d brought with him. “Gaeru come make yourself useful for once.”

  “Hm,” Gaeru hummed as he held Tregar’s shoulders. “The tale of Tregar being saved by the young Hyperian Princess, that’s certainly a story I’ll enjoy telling for you.”

  Tregar rolled his eyes at Gaeru’s remark, then gasped as Yalif shoved one of his strange little tools down the shaft of the arrow and into his chest. Blood sprayed and then the arrow was out and Yalif’s hand was over the wound.

  “A little warning next time?” Tregar asked through gritted teeth.

  “It’s easier when you’re not tensing,” Yalif said. “You got lucky this time.”

  “Lucky that someone is as stubborn as Yargo himself,” Tregar grumbled towards her.

  “I could not leave all these people defenseless to the Fenari, or risk having the Fenari set up camp right here in the middle of all the kingdoms. Besides, you’re kin. All of you.”

  Yalif glanced over his shoulder at her, a faint smile tugged on his lips. “I’m glad to see you figured out how to not be turned into a pin cushion, but you might want to figure out how to clean your hair before you cool off.”

  Donequen looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since they’d entered the room. “I didn’t know you could internalize fire. Or destroy arrows like that.”

  “Honestly, that’s the first time I’ve tried it.” She picked slick lumps of molten metal from her hair. “I’ve turned into flames, but I’d never done this, or melted weapons like that.”

  “So, you let that man try to cut your head off on a hunch?” Donequen gaped as he glared at her.

  Zelia shrugged. She hadn’t thought of it that way, but Donequen had a point. “I knew I was burning hot enough to melt anything that got near me. Though perhaps we shouldn’t tell Linithion.”

  “Yeah. I’m not keen on her ripping my head off.”

  “Oh, so scared of that slip of an Elf?” Gaeru asked.

  “When it comes to Zelia or Orvi, definitely.”

  Zelia paused from cleaning her hair to look at her ring. It was still so new to her, it still felt foreign on her finger. The fire within her banked, her skin cooling. She very well might have to stay here now, until Skylar or someone else could be sent to hold the throne.

  “You know. I can stay. You can go back to be with Linithion. I know you two haven’t had much time together.”

  She studied the sincerity in Donequen’s expression. “Thank you, but I’m not leaving you. At least with me, the people themselves know they owe me for what I did at The Hold.”

  “I’d stay whether you left or not.”

  “And he won’t be alone,” Tregar said.

  “You need to rest after this,” Yalif warned.

  Tregar gave Yalif a look that said he would, but he would stay and continue to work, too.

  Gaeru studied her and Donequen. “What exactly happened to make you both look so exhausted.”

  “They tried to knock us out of the sky with boulders,” Donequen grumbled.

  “Yeah, how did you do that thing to the boulder?” Zelia asked.

  “It was a disintegration spell, or a variation of one.”

  “You finally managed to pull it off?” Tregar asked.

  “Sort of. The center was still a gooey mess, but it was enough that my shields held.”

  “You know, these little men are getting more and more nervous the longer I sit on this wall. They won’t stop fidgeting and it’s starting to get on my nerves.”

  Zelia smiled faintly at the teasing annoyance in Raven’s tone. “I need to go check on Raven and make sure the men won’t try firing at her again, so I can drop the shield.”

  Tregar’s brow furrowed. “You’ve been burning that hot and holding a shield?”

  Zelia dipped her chin and Gaeru surveyed her closer. She could tell he was noting the dark circles under her eyes and how she leaned on her staff.

  Gaeru stepped around Tregar. “I’ll go with you.”

  “You three will be alright on your own?” Zelia asked.

  “We’ll be fine,” Yalif said, “go on.”

  37

  The moon was high in the night sky as Zelia stalked back across the city to the southeast wall where Raven sat waiting for her. They would have to stay here for now. Someone had to ring the bell to announce the death of the king and the crown prince. When the people learned of their deaths, there might be trouble. She would have to move quickly to place a new king on the throne. The few guards they passed watched her and Gaeru warily, as though they knew what she had done. Like they could see the phantom blood of their king and prince on her hands.

  “Hm,” Gaeru hummed, “I don’t recall the people of this kingdom being so suspicious of power the last time I visited.”

  “I’m guessing more than a few generations have passed since you were here.”

  “True. We shouldn’t have let them go so long without reminders of why they revered us as gods and of what we taught them to defend themselves.”

  “You can’t be expected to babysit them year after year. They have to grow and fall on their own to some extent.”

  “Hm. Is that something Eleanor tau
ght you?”

  Zelia nodded as she glanced down another stone alleyway, it was clear, save for a stack of crates at the far end. The city was sleeping so peacefully that a knot formed in her gut at the realization that she’d turn this kingdom’s reality on its head come dawn. She’d have to tell them whose daughter she was. Tell them she’d killed Gregory. Then she’d have to tell them who would rule in Gregory’s place.

  She had to talk to Eleanor to get her advice. Then she needed to talk to Linithion to tell her what was going on, and she just needed to see Linithion. Zelia had never let herself even think of the possibility of having a soulmate, and she’d never really asked or been told about how the bond worked. She knew there was a bond, that a soulmate could feel when their mate was in danger. Would Linithion feel her death, even if she would come back?

  A hand on her shoulder halted her and she looked up to see five men blocking the path. By the way Gaeru shifted to put his back to the stone building beside them, there were more behind them. “Do you always get this sort of welcoming in cities?” Gaeru asked her.

  “No. Last I was in this city I was declared a god among men and revered for saving them.” She surveyed the men before her, the way they stood, how they held their weapons, and how they studied Gaeru then her. She wondered if they had been at The Hold, if they knew what she could do.

  “It’s your call, Princess,” Gaeru said.

  Zelia bit back her sigh at the title. She knew he had used it to remind these men who she was. Of course, Gaeru didn’t know that no one had known she was a princess until recently. Still, the cut in Gaeru’s tone had given the men pause, especially as Gaeru hadn’t bothered to draw his blade.

  “Only one guard for a Princess in a foreign city at night?” one of the men asked.

  “Oh, Gaeru’s not a guard. He’s one of Yargo’s Fallen Warriors and a friend. As for foreign,” she waved the word off, “go home. I’ll explain everything in the morning, to everyone.”