“What would my father want with the Riscillius?”
At the sound of Nik’s voice, she turned to face him. “You tell me. What would the King of High Farrow want with access to an all-powerful being?” She said it sarcastically, incredulously, but instantly felt guilty when the prince’s face fell.
The answer was almost obvious, except what she couldn’t figure out was what Aurialis could do to aid him. She didn’t know what the Spirit was capable of from her position. Faythe blanched at the thought, the possibilities. An unearthly weapon might be just what the kings needed—not only to tip the scales, but for full annihilation.
“We’d better go. They’ll be preparing for Olmstone’s send-off soon,” Nik said quietly.
Faythe didn’t think she could stand to face either king right now, but she nodded and turned to make her way out.
“Wait.” Tauria’s voice halted her movement.
Faythe jerked in fright, forgetting the ward was even present in her panic. She and Nik turned to her expectantly as she frowned but didn’t meet either set of eyes.
“Do you feel that?”
Faythe would have thought nothing of it, except the last time the ward sensed something, it led them right to the being she now dreaded to even think about.
“I don’t feel anything,” Nik said for the both of them.
Tauria looked to him then. Her expression was conflicted, as if she wanted to confide in the prince, but for some reason, she decided to turn her attention to Faythe instead.
“It’s weak, but…it was like that night at the hut. I can’t explain it.”
Faythe shuddered. Staring down the black depths of the unexplored second passageway, a dark feeling settled over her. “Another time. Nik’s right—we need to go.”
Chapter 28
Reylan
The general rode like a midnight storm, making the trip back to Rhyenelle in ten days rather than the minimal fourteen it usually took. He would have felt bad for pushing his companion soldiers to keep his rapid pace were the news not so urgent. In fact, he’d wanted to abandon all the petty meetings the first day he arrived in High Farrow, for the news that weighed on him so heavily came long before the discovery of their impending attack.
Rhyenelle had suspected the attack already, and confirming it was Reylan’s main task during his week with the ally kingdoms—though he supposed the term was no longer appropriate as they sought to overthrow his homeland. It wasn’t a surprise, and he knew it wouldn’t be to his king either, but at least now they could strengthen their defenses according to the information he got through Faythe’s thoughts.
The woman struck a chord of familiarity within him. He had been unable to get the bright gold eyes out of his mind since he first set his own upon them. Their likeness he assumed he would never see again.
Reylan didn’t falter a single step as he dismounted Kali and stormed his way into the castle. The crimson tapestries brought comfort and pride; he had grown sick of the royal blue of the north. Guards opened the doors long before he approached, and none dared to stop him for idle chat, which he was sure his face warned against. Every fae soldier and guard in the kingdom answered to Reylan as there were none he didn’t outrank, but the respect and loyalty was mutual. It was how it always had been, and he was confident their armies were stronger for it.
While twilight diffused the sky, there was usually only one place he would expect to find his king. No guards were posted outside the doors to the Glass Garden. Through their transparency, he spotted the king at the far end by a cluster of white rosebushes. Reylan slowed his pace and entered gently, still making enough noise for the king to detect his presence. He stayed silent as he approached. One of his large hands held a small bloomed rose still attached to its vine, and Reylan knew the symbolism. It represented a different form of delicate flower that was once his world. The Glass Garden remained thriving even long after its original owner abandoned it.
“You’re back earlier than expected,” Agalhor said at last. “I trust your trip was fruitful.” His brown eyes shifted from the rose he let fall and landed on the general.
It wasn’t often Reylan lost his nerve, but he cursed his own cowardice in that moment. “It is worse than we feared. Orlon and Varlas have allied together, and I fear they are working on something bigger than we anticipated to try to take us down.” He stared with the news the king was expecting, mostly to delay the harder conversation he had spent the whole journey going over in his head.
The Phoenix king hummed, not appearing the least bit concerned as he turned back to the rosebushes. A lot of the time, Reylan admired the ruler for his cool indifference toward difficult situations. However, centuries by his side had taught him that while the king’s exterior remained calm and collected, inside, the wheels to his brilliant mind were working overtime with information.
After a short pause, the king said, “I assume they bought into the story of my unforeseen absence?” A cunning smile twitched his lips.
Reylan huffed a laugh. “They were not best pleased. You would have enjoyed the look on Varlas’s face at the news.”
Agalhor Ashfyre was no fool. He had spies in all corners of the three ally kingdoms. The discovery of the King of High Farrow’s new spymaster had not come as a surprise to Reylan when he arrived, as part of his mission was to snuff them out and dispose of them. Orlon couldn’t have such a weapon at his disposal. Agalhor was not about to risk exposure to an ability like that.
Yet nothing could have prepared Reylan for who he was sent to execute.
“And you took care of the situation?”
Reylan shifted, and for the first time in centuries, he feared the king’s reaction to his more imminent news. He took a deep breath, ignoring Agalhor’s words to say, “We need to talk about Lilianna.” There was no answering his question without it.
The new rosebud under the king’s fingers crushed together as his fist enclosed around it. Reylan swallowed hard.
“I told you never to speak her name again.” Agalhor’s voice was low, lethal.
It was rare Reylan heard that tone, and certainly not directed at him. But the king’s response was expected and justified in his heartbreak, so Reylan didn’t balk.
“You know I would not if it wasn’t important,” he responded calmly.
The king met his eye, and the sorrow in them made him feel awfully guilty for being the one to open an old wound. It would crush him to reveal the part that would really damage the king’s spirit.
Agalhor hesitated as if he didn’t want to ask but needed the answer. “Did you…did you find her?”
At the slight flicker of hope on his face, Reylan’s answering look became solemn. He shook his head.
Agalhor’s expression fell, and he was about to turn away when Reylan blurted, “But I think I found her daughter.”
The king halted but didn’t meet his eye again. “She married then. Good.” His words rang with heartbreak.
“No, I don’t think she did.”
His forehead creased in a hard frown, eyes glassy as he waited for Reylan to explain further.
The general took a long breath as he tried to recall the mental conversation he’d conjured on his way here. It was wasted energy as every bastard word on the subject deserted his mind. He grasped frantically at loose sentences to form some kind of explanation.
“It was her eyes at first. The brightest gold—there was no mistaking them.”
The king’s face twitched in sadness at the stirring-up of old memories.
“Then, when I got close enough, Lilianna’s scent was there. Her daughter lives in the castle.” Reylan paused to gauge the king’s reaction, but he gave nothing away as he stared blankly.
“And her mother?”
It pained him that his king couldn’t even bear to use her name. He had hated it for a long time and swore never to mention the human woman again—the one who stole his king’s heart and took it with her when she left in the dead of night without warn
ing or explanation, only a note telling him not to seek her out. Agalhor didn’t obey her wish at first, spending five years sending out bands of soldiers to search the kingdoms for her. When she heard of it, she sent him another warning that she didn’t want to be found. Reylan greatly admired his king for remaining strong and focused for his kingdom though his heart was clearly in pieces. He knew firsthand the ache of losing one who was as good as a mate. Although Agalhor’s falling in love with a human had caused a political stir, he couldn’t blame the king’s heart for it when he watched how passionately they cared for each other and how equal they were in power. Her mortality was simply a cruel twist of nature in an otherwise perfect match.
He couldn’t look Agalhor in the face as he said, “I didn’t learn much about her and didn’t know her well enough to press further, but…she claimed her mother died eleven years ago.”
When he dared a look, the king was emotionless. Reylan took that as a worse sign than any outburst of anger or sadness.
“Why are you telling me all this?” Agalhor’s calm tone shook his very bones.
Not wanting to delay the inevitable drop of staggering information, he said, “When I got close enough to detect Lilianna’s scent, another scent was there. It was faint. Nobody else would sense it if they weren’t looking.”
The king’s eyes alone pressed him to continue. Reylan paused, looking him dead in the eye as he delivered his final blow.
“It was yours, Your Majesty. I believe you have a daughter, alive and in High Farrow.”
Chapter 29
Faythe
Being requested in the council chamber rattled Faythe’s nerves to new extents, as if she always had something to fear or hide from the King of High Farrow and was one summons away from it being her last. She had every reason to be on edge today. The king was even more unpredictable than she could have possibly imagined. He had many secret plans she doubted anyone in the castle suspected. As much as she didn’t like the arrogance of the other lords and councilmembers of High Farrow, she knew they were not merciless killers and would not submit to such a plan as to wage war on an ally kingdom. It was blasphemous, unlawful, and immoral. It shouldn’t have shocked her that her king was capable of such an act, but admittedly, a part of her longed to believe the prince—that perhaps Orlon still held love and mercy in small doses.
She entered the council chamber without hesitating, mustering every ounce of confidence she could although internally she trembled horribly. Faythe expected this meeting. The king would want to know everything she was able to find out from their guests who left over two weeks ago. Faythe had been painfully on edge for the confrontation ever since.
What she feared most was not that she had next to no information to give the king; it was that she now knew the ruler standing in front of her hid the true extent of his evil behind a mask of impassiveness. It sickened her to be standing in the same room as him, and even more so to be in his service.
Faythe stood confidently at the end of the table. The king had yet to meet her eye. The doors groaned shut behind her, and she quickly noted they were completely alone in the room. Not a single guard remained like there usually was. She swallowed hard.
Orlon pondered over a map spread at the far end of the wide table in quiet contemplation. “I like to think we have an understanding, you and I.”
At the king’s opening sentence, Faythe shuddered. He still didn’t look at her as he continued.
“Your ability could not only serve High Farrow. It could be used to better the world.”
Her heart thundered as she thought perhaps the king foolishly trusted her enough to reveal his plan to overthrow a great kingdom. Finally, he looked up, black eyes swirling with shadows.
“Yet you still resist. Why?”
The knot in her stomach clenched, but she kept her face placid. “Have I not done everything you asked, Your Majesty?”
His eyes narrowed on her, and he stalked toward her slowly. It took everything in Faythe not to cower from the demon who radiated power and evil. He stopped a few seats away, yet even from this distance, she felt him loom over her, his shadow like the gentle caress of death.
“There was a group of human boys to be brought in for questioning—friends of the one you executed.”
Faythe’s teeth ground at the comment. She knew he purposely mentioned her role to pin the blame for the boy’s death on her—and to gauge her reaction. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of one and kept her face emotionless.
“Yet on the day I sent out guards to seize them, they happened to vanish.”
His lingering accusation wasn’t subtle. She feigned a bored look. “So, they caught wind of what happened to their friend and fled. They’ll likely die on the run anyway.” She tried not to think of her two friends and if they’d even made it to Galmire as planned, alive and safe. They had to be. She wouldn’t accept any alternative.
“Perhaps,” was all he said, and it surprised Faythe he didn’t press the matter further since it was clear his suspicions were far from curbed.
He turned and strolled back to the top of the table. Faythe visibly relaxed with his back to her, but her spine stiffened again when he turned and stared down at the map once more. His hand came to rest on it, and she didn’t fail to notice his fingers lingered over the south: Rhyenelle.
“The general’s departure was quite sudden after the meetings… I don’t suppose you learned anything that might shed light on what was so urgent?”
It was test as he went straight in for the targeted kingdom. Faythe had spent the whole of the previous night coming up with lies she would spin to not only keep the damned general safe, but herself too, as the king would expect something of use from her. She held no love for Reylan, yet she didn’t want to see him with a target on his back if the king found out what he was up to: getting his own information from his short visit.
“His mind wasn’t easy to get into. A forewarning about his ability would have been appreciated,” she said, leveling with his cruel tone. “Luckily, he didn’t detect mine. I assume my being human had something to do with it,” she lied smoothly. “I managed to get in eventually, of course, but I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed with the boring details. Their armies are strong, but that’s common knowledge. The general’s reasons for leaving were true. There’s unrest in Callune, a town bordering with Fenstead, over fears of an impending attack from Valgard. General Reylan is their best commander—it makes sense for them to want him back immediately.”
It all came tumbling out as if she spoke the truth. It made Faythe sick to think she was becoming a master deceiver. Yet the king didn’t look convinced, and she trembled to think the question was a trick all along, that perhaps he already knew there were no urgent matters in Rhyenelle. She counted her breaths as she waited for him to out her lies. Instead, he looked away and seemed to drop the subject. Her shoulders relaxed with relief, but she didn’t let herself believe for one second she was safe. Her turn on the game board was simply over—for now.
The more conflicts that arose, Faythe found herself not standing on any one side. High Farrow was her home, but her heart was divided with longing not to fight for a kingdom but for the people, no matter what color they wore, no matter the shape of their ears, no matter their race or gender. She longed to liberate all of Ungardia from tyrants like the king before her.
“You may go,” he said in dismissal.
She turned immediately, not wanting to linger for even a second.
His voice drifted to her quietly right before she met the door. “If I find out you have lied to me, Faythe, your death will be a kindness.”
Chapter 30
Jakon
Jakon and the group pressed on for the final stretch of their journey. They would reach Galmire by nightfall. Jakon had resisted every urge to stop and turn back for the fae guard who left them over three days ago to divert a band of fae patrol. It would be a futile effort anyway, risking the mission and the people in thei
r company. Still, it didn’t ease his guilt that Caius had offered himself as a distraction knowing his life could be on the line if he was suspected of being party to their escape.
A hand went around his own, pulling him out of deep thought, and he smiled down at Marlowe. He longed to remove the gloves they wore against the cold and feel her soft skin. She had been the one to lift everyone’s morale through their weeklong trip—over a day longer than anticipated thanks to the diversion. He didn’t hate himself to admit he couldn’t have done it without her. He needed her—they all did. Not for her strength or skills with a weapon, but for her wonderfully calming and upbeat nature no matter the situation.
They walked the last few hours with little conversation. When they at last spied the signs of civilization, faint flickers of amber against the twilight sky, Jakon could have collapsed with relief. The burden of ensuring so many lives would make it here alive lifted as they neared the town alight with glowing torches. Everyone was immensely tired, but he pushed them to make the final journey over the stretch of hills.
When they reached the solid stone path that led right into Galmire, Jakon gaped at the person standing at the end of it. Caius’s smile was wide as they approached.
“Thank the Spirits,” Marlowe muttered, not hesitating to embrace the fae. It took him by surprise, but Caius returned the hug.
Jakon was stunned with a mix of relief and disbelief that the fae guard was alive and had beaten them to their destination. “How?” was all he could manage as they embraced forearms, all wariness of him dissolved by knowing he was okay.
A Queen Comes to Power: An Heir Comes to Rise Book 2 Page 24
