“Thank you, son,” he said in a choked whisper. “I’ve always…been…proud of you.”
“I failed you, Father.” Nik’s voice was barely a desperate whisper through his tight throat.
Orlon mustered a weak shake of his head. His voice was a slow croak in his agony. “You are smart and wise, my son. You will know how to fight them. You will know how to lead these people.” One of his weak, trembling hands raised, a finger pointing to his chest. “You have…” His breathing rasped and spluttered. “You have your mother’s heart.”
Nik trembled stiffly. He wanted to take it back. Oh, Gods. He was wrong. He was foolishly, horribly, wrong…
But over his panic that perhaps his father could have been saved, the pleading look in his brown eyes said it all. This was his wish, and perhaps it had been since the moment he became trapped in his own mind by some dark, evil magick. Nik rested his forehead against his father’s, trying desperately to accept what he had done was a kindness, a mercy, better than the alternative of living with a burdened, darkened soul, lost beyond salvation.
“I forgive you,” Nik whispered, hoping it would ease his father’s guilt as he passed through to the Afterlife. “You’re free now.”
Nik clenched his eyes together and counted his father’s ragged, fading breaths. It was all that filled the grim silence as he shallowed his own to listen. Right until the very last one.
The hand encasing his arm loosened and fell as his body went limp.
His father was dead. And along with Orlon’s life, Nik felt a sharp sever from within that pulled him back with a gasp. He knew what it was.
The release of his soul from the Eternal Woods.
Nik hadn’t wanted to concern Faythe who had looked quietly horrified at what Aurialis had asked of him to obtain the yucolites and save her life. He didn’t think he would ever carry through on his end of the bargain and be free by killing his own father.
Yet in that moment, by his own hand, the prince…became the king.
Chapter 58
Tauria
Tauria bit her fingernails nervously as she stood by the fire in her rooms. When her door opened, she immediately spun with pent-up anticipation, shoulders slumping in relief at the sight of Nik. Her heart skipped a beat at his ghostly-pale face. She glanced to his side, finding the scabbard at his hip empty.
He didn’t have to speak. She found her feet moving toward him of their own accord. He only stared at her wide-eyed, hands trembling, when she fell into him and his arms instantly gripped her tight, letting her absorb some of his pain through the embrace. He didn’t speak, but she didn’t need him to.
When she pulled back, Tauria looked up at him. “I’m so sorry.”
His hand slowly raised to cup her cheek in silent thanks, and she raised her own hand to encase it. Nik searched her face, but she couldn’t be sure of what he was looking for. She stayed silent, hoping that through her eyes he would see there was no judgment for what he had done. For killing his father. She held nothing but love and admiration for the prince before her, and she knew there was nothing in this world that could change that view.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” he confessed, his voice so quiet with uncertainty it tore at her heart.
She took both of his hands then and looked at him fiercely. “You are ready, Nik. You have been for some time. And High Farrow is ready for you and the new age of freedom and unity you will bring.”
Nik smiled as a hint of brightness returned to his eyes. “Spoken like a true leader.”
Tauria’s chest burst with a warmth of pride. For both of them. “One day, I will take back Fenstead, and we will always be true allies. But right now, it is your time.”
Nik nodded in determination. “When the day comes, I will help you take back your kingdom, Tauria. High Farrow will always be your home too.”
Her eyes burned with irrevocable love and appreciation for the prince—the king—standing before her. She had no doubts about the great ruler he was and would continue to become. Nothing gave her more joy than watching him grow to this point. She embraced him once again, overcome with happiness and relief.
They were safe.
They were free.
He didn’t step out of her arms when he pulled back, and her heart fluttered at the familiar gentle look laced with a faint essence of pain. Even after a hundred years together, Nik was a puzzle she could never solve. In the heat of a tender moment, there was always a battle raging within his emerald pools. Since the night they gave themselves completely to each other, a guard had formed around the depths of his desires. He voiced what could not be between them, but those words were often betrayed by his eyes. Perhaps it made her a fool after all this time, but she couldn’t give up on him—not while the battle remained that planted the seed of doubt she wasn’t alone in her feelings.
Just like every other time, the conflict in his eyes passed, and he stepped away from her. Tauria swallowed her disappointment.
Nik took a long breath. “There’s a lot I need to attend to. The lords will demand to know what happened, and I’ll have to try my best to convince them not to abdicate me for treason.” He huffed a nervous laugh.
Though he looked silently terrified at the possibility, she believed he would convince them otherwise with the help of witnesses. “The joys of the monarchy,” Tauria said lightly. “Off you go then, King Nikalias Silvergriff.” It felt delightfully strange to address him with his new title, but the crown fit.
He rolled his eyes playfully then turned to leave. She watched him right until the door closed behind him and then fell back into her own thoughts.
While she was elated for Nik and High Farrow, Tauria went to the balcony and looked out. Past the glittering city, beyond the horizon. She kept staring as if she could see all the way to the grassy hilltops that flew proud stag banners, knowing one day, she would return to stand on Fenstead soil to make her kingdom rise and the lands thrive once again.
Chapter 59
Faythe
Faythe had one last endeavor she needed to complete.
She didn’t tell anyone when she slipped out of the castle, and now she was a close friend of Nik—the king—the guards let her pass without any inquisition. Either that, or they now feared her more than ever before after witnessing the power she harnessed from the temple ruin.
The thing burned a hold in the pocket of her cloak as she headed to return it exactly where it belonged. She wanted nothing to do with it and couldn’t wait for it to be out of her possession.
After using the Riscillius to open the temple, she stood in the circle of sun that shot a beam of charged light through the stone in the pommel of her sword. She intended to place the ruin back into its designated spot on the podium behind her and then turn her back on the temple, on the Spirits and their feuds, for good. Something stopped her, however. She knew it was the unspoken words that would always remain unsaid between her and the Spirit of Life if she left now.
And Faythe demanded final answers.
So, she braced herself and poised her sword, guiding the light beam until it struck its stone eye counterpart across the room. Faythe shielded her eyes and adjusted to the harsh brightness for a few seconds. When she lowered them again, Aurialis stood in front of her.
“I am sorry about your friend,” were the first words out of the ethereal beauty’s mouth.
Faythe’s eyes flashed at the mention. “You could have saved him,” she ground out.
The Spirit shook her head. “I could not—”
“You’re the damned Spirit of Life! Where were you when you were needed the most?” she cried. It had been riling her anger for days. How she could demand so much of Faythe and yet not offer her that one mercy in return? “It should have been me.” Faythe’s voice fell in defeat. “Why didn’t you take my life instead?”
In Caius’s last moments, she’d put everything she had into trying to plead for his life, and only despairing silence answered.
“
I cannot take life. I am not my sister Dakodas. We exist only to keep the balance.”
Her teeth ground at the mention of the damned balance. “He didn’t deserve to die.”
“No, he did not.”
Faythe and the Spirit exchanged a solemn look—a look of understanding.
“But his sacrifice is not meaningless, Faythe. Nothing is ever without purpose. It triggers so many things in its wake that you cannot begin to fathom. Your role as one of those still living is to ensure the paths opened are taken and carry with you on your ventures the spirit of those who have been loved and lost to carve this world. Every soul stamps the soil you stand on, in life and in death.”
Faythe hung her head. A single drop of sorrow fell straight onto the glowing lines of Aurialis’s symbol painted beneath her feet. Her mind was racked with conflict. Part of her found solace in the Spirit’s words, but a larger part grew with resentment over fate and destiny and everything else that was so damningly out her control. She hardened her gaze, bringing her eyes up to meet Aurialis again.
“Why didn’t you tell me who my father was?”
“It was not for me to tell you.”
Faythe’s temper flared, but Aurialis continued.
“You must understand there is an order to everything we do. Disrupt it, and the fate of the world can change.”
The words sounded so familiar—and they were, as she’d heard them before. Aurialis’s words, through Marlowe’s voice. Faythe laughed bitterly, despising even more that the Spirit was using her friend too. She had only just regained her life; she wasn’t about to bow down to a force Nether-bent on screwing her over.
“I only came to return your ruin. Nik and I owe you nothing anymore.” She’d felt the tether to her soul break the moment she stepped into the Eternal Woods that night with the ruin, and she wondered if Nik felt it too.
“You must keep it safe.”
Faythe’s eyes widened, incredulous. “No way in rutting damn. I don’t want anything to do with you or your sister feud. And my friends will not be involved either,” she warned.
“You may have freed High Farrow from the reach of Marvellas for now, but the threat is far from over, Faythe. You must keep my ruin safe and seek out the temple of Dakodas before it is too late.”
Faythe blanched. “You can find someone else. I want no part in it.”
“It can only be you.”
“Then the world is bloody well doomed already.” She threw her arms out in exasperation.
Aurialis ignored her. “You must go to Rhyenelle. Her temple lies within the caves of the Niltain Isles.”
“Orlon was Marvellas’s puppet. I won’t be yours.”
“I seek nothing for myself.”
Faythe almost recoiled at the unexpected sharpness in Aurialis’s tone.
“Only to protect and save your world before it is too late, as is my sworn duty as a Spirit of your realm. Dakodas and Marvellas lost sight of that, and I’m fighting to keep them from destroying it completely, but I need your help, Faythe.”
She blinked, a little dumbfounded by the small speech. It no longer felt appropriate to fight against the Spirit of Life—against one on her own side. To hear an all-powerful being almost beg for her help… It was more daunting than humbling. While Faythe didn’t think she could be of much help and wanted to insist Aurialis find someone else, someone better, if only to give the world a damn fighting chance…she retracted all her counterarguments and listened.
“We are running out of time. Summer solstice will mark the thousand-year anniversary of Marvellas’s transition to your world. The day will be one in a millennia when the veil between realms is weak enough for history to repeat itself.”
Faythe paled as her mind sprinted to the conclusion before Aurialis had a chance to finish.
“On that day, Dakodas plans to break fundamental laws of our kind, just as Marvellas did, to be bound in a physical form to walk your world. It is why Marvellas influenced the King of High Farrow to locate the Riscillius within his kingdom. The Looking Glass is needed to open the Temple of Darkness for the ritual to take place, and for Dakodas to descend.”
Though they had already narrowly escaped it, it seemed death was quite literally close to knocking on their door.
“How do you expect I stop her?” Faythe didn’t believe it was entirely in her power to do so. It was a threat bigger than they could have possibly imagined—far bigger than Orlon, and far deadlier than Marvellas alone. It wasn’t just her own life at stake if she did nothing. It wasn’t even her friends’ now either… It was a threat against the whole of Ungardia and possibly even beyond.
“There is only one way. On the solstice, there will be a solar eclipse. As the Goddess of the Moon, it is when Dakodas will be at her strongest. You must reach her temple before this. There, you will have to remove her ruin to prevent her transition into your realm.”
It seemed too simple an ask. So easy she questioned why the Spirit seemed so Nether-bent on bestowing the task upon Faythe’s shoulders. She was human with a mind ability she doubted would prove useful defense in the face of something as great and powerful as the Spirit of Death.
“This thing nearly killed me,” Faythe said in fear, holding up the arrow-shaped ruin she tried not to think about for too long. It had been silent, emitting only a small hum since she called on its power in the throne room.
“They respond to chaos. Too much of it, and the ruin can consume its bearer,” Aurialis explained. “The power you hold within you cannot be glimpsed, and it manifests the more you come to use your ability. But it is not unchallenged. In turn, great power has the aptitude to heighten your negative sentiments. Before you can wield the ruins, you must learn control, discipline, and how to channel your anger. Find the teacher who tames the storm. Only then will you be able to harness them to your own will, not yield all that you are to them.”
Faythe shuddered at the thought, refraining from voicing that she was perhaps the least suitable candidate for the role. “Isn’t there someone else more…qualified for the quest?”
The Spirit’s grim look made Faythe want to groan out loud. “The individual ruins can only enhance what is already there. Without an ability to latch onto, they are powerless.”
“I hardly think my particular talent is the most suitable against Dakodas or Marvellas. An elemental, perhaps? Someone with a more physical ability?” she ranted, trying desperately to pass the baton.
Her hope faded at the Spirit’s gaze of sympathy.
“There is a reason you are the only of your kind, Faythe.” At her pale look, Aurialis added, “But your triumph against my sisters will also depend on the help and guidance of those around you. Power, strength, wisdom, courage, knowledge, resilience, darkness, and light—you are all soul-bound by the same path of fate.”
Triumph. The word awoke something in her, and she wasn’t sure if it was deadly fear or fierce determination. Failure wasn’t an option. Her friends’ lives depended on it—the whole realm depended on it. It was a crushing weight that suddenly settled on her shoulders as she knew it was completely possible to fail and for all to be lost to the Spirits that would claim their realm as their own. She dreaded to think what two all-powerful beings could do, never mind one.
They were coming to the end of winter. Summer solstice would follow the spring a little over five months away. It didn’t seem like a lot of time to allow her to sample the new kingdom as she’d hoped to do before attempting to seek out the hidden temple on a small island off the coast of Rhyenelle. She wanted to see the kingdom with excitement and adventure. The latter, she would certainly get—only now, it was riddled with terrors and uncertainties. A quest with no definitive outcome.
When Faythe didn’t respond, Aurialis said, “Good luck, Faythe. I am always with you. And those you have loved and lost follow in your footsteps no matter where you go.”
The Spirit began to fade, and for once, Faythe didn’t feel the desperate need to beg for more time.
Her path was set, scattered with the answers she sought.
Now, it was on her to find the courage to face them.
Chapter 60
Faythe
Faythe knocked briefly but didn’t wait long for a response before welcoming herself into the king’s chambers. It was highly inappropriate to enter uninvited, but she knew High Farrow’s new ruler would not object to her disregard for formality.
She did enter cautiously, however, spotting him outside on the balcony, dressed formally in his royal blue attire. His cloak billowed slightly behind him in the winter wind.
Faythe was also dressed for the outdoors and pulled her cloak tighter as she stepped out to greet him. She walked slowly, taking in the picture of him. Savoring it, as it was likely to be a long while before she saw him again. It pained her to be leaving Nik as much as it tore her heart to leave Jakon and Marlowe.
She had to stop and stare at the image she’d only ever dreamed of seeing.
Nikalias Silvergriff, once a humble prince, now a great king. It was dazzling to title him as such, and it brought a smile of pride to her face.
“Are you just going to stand there gawking?” he said, not taking his eyes off the immaculate city below.
Faythe huffed a laugh and joined him at the stone rail. “Would you really object if I did?”
His lips tugged in amusement, casting her a quick sideward glance. Then Faythe followed his longing gaze to look out over the white stone maze of glittering buildings.
“Caius loved this city,” Nik reflected quietly, and Faythe’s chest tightened. “He loved the town…he loved the people. Human and fae…because he was both. He was a vision of exactly the kind of peace and unity High Farrow needs to be restored to.”
A Queen Comes to Power: An Heir Comes to Rise Book 2 Page 46
