An Heir Comes to Rise

by C. C. Peñaranda

  He rumbled in laughter beneath her as she scowled, rolling off him to lie on the ground.

  “You don’t take your mind off him for one second, not even once it’s over. You keep focused until you can clear the ring.” His voice dropped into stern command. “Even if you think you can, you don’t win. It will only put a much deadlier target on your back.” He propped himself up and leaned sideways so he half-hovered over her. He looked into her eyes, and her guilt rose at the pain on his face.

  She reached out to touch it. “I’m going to be okay, Nik,” she assured him with all the confidence she could muster.

  It was hard to comfort those around her when she had her own fears and doubts about how she would fare in The Cave. But she would wear the mask of bravery and resilience for her friends and for Nik.

  He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers before kissing her fully. Slowly and tenderly at first, but then she felt his tongue in silent invitation to deepen the kiss. Her mouth opened, and he didn’t hesitate to heat the moment between them.

  They had barely been able to keep their hands off each other over the course of the week. They’d spent every night together, but Faythe always held back the full extent of her desire that pulsed every time she was near him. She couldn’t allow herself to get too distracted from her task.

  But now, with the threat of tomorrow looming and her days not promised, she felt the overwhelming urge to be close to him and show him just how much he mattered to her.

  She ran her hands through his hair, savoring the feel of the silk entwined with her fingertips, and arched her back in her longing to be closer. He moved, coming to hover over her completely between her legs, but while his body pressed against hers, he remained utterly weightless above her. Heat flushed her skin, awakening every sense and impulse, while his hands roamed over her waist and bare stomach where her shirt had lifted, leaving trails of fire everywhere his fingers caressed. A part of her screamed for his hand to travel higher—or lower. Her hands left his hair to feel the powerful contours of his back, and to her delight, she found his shirt untucked. When her fingers brushed the wonderfully smooth skin around his waist, he buckled slightly, the movement enough to frenzy the lust at her core.

  His mouth left hers. She was about to cry in protest, but his lips found her neck, and she sucked a sharp breath, tilting her head back in invitation. She felt him smile against her throat as he trailed teasingly downward. The sensation filled her with new waves of pleasure.

  “Nik,” she breathed.

  He stiffened at the sound, and his eyes met hers with a flash of hunger and desire.

  She was breathless, but the pause was enough for her to gather her thoughts. She recoiled slightly in realization of what her lust-clouded mind wanted from him, right there on the woodland floor.

  He must have seen the hesitation in her eyes as he gave her an understanding smile. Kissing her mouth once more, he twisted so he was back to leaning on his side next to her.

  Her cheeks heated. “I don’t want to go too fast,” she admitted.

  He brushed a stray piece of hair from her face and leaned in to kiss her again, his breath caressing her neck as he spoke. “We can take all the time we want.” He left one last whisper of a kiss on her collarbone, and it would have set her off again if he didn’t immediately jump to his feet afterward, leaving her dazed and frustrated, still lying on the grass.

  “That’s enough rest,” Nik called from his position behind her.

  She groaned and didn’t move. “We’ve been at it for hours already!” she complained.

  “And another one might just be the difference between you walking out of that cave with one arm or two.”

  Her lips thinned. She was about to retort back when rough hands grabbed hers, hauling her to her feet. She never even heard him approach, and the sudden movement made her head spin, but Nik only grinned wickedly.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Stupid fae prick,” she grumbled under her breath.

  His smile widened in response as he held her sword out to her. She took it begrudgingly, and he didn’t give her even a minute to brace herself before he was making her retreat through a series of ruthless attacks that sent the clank of joining steel echoing through the clearing once more.

  Nik was relentless in his assaults over the next hour, and Faythe was more drained than she had been after any of their previous sessions. She knew it was because it was their last before tomorrow night and he was overcompensating to cram in what would likely have taken months for her to grasp. She wasn’t perfect, and he had still managed to theoretically kill her on many occasions, which made Nik very wary about letting her go through with it. But she had also managed to best him a handful of times—or at least dodge long enough that she could concede in a safe position.

  Like Nik had said, she wasn’t out to win anyway, or it would most definitely be her head.

  “I won’t be able to be there tomorrow night,” Nik said quietly.

  Faythe’s stomach dropped. “Why?”

  They hadn’t discussed it before, but he had been secretly watching her for every other match, so it disappointed her to know he wouldn’t be there when it mattered most. If only because he was probably the only one capable of intervening on her behalf should things take a turn for the worse.

  A conflicted expression flashed across his face, but it was gone when he looked at her. “I’m not supposed to be out of the city walls. If there are other fae there…I can’t be seen,” he said.

  Faythe crossed her arms. “You’ve been beyond city walls before. You were on patrol at summer solstice,” she argued.

  A day that seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had changed. She had changed. Her life was completely different to the girl who had danced around bonfires on the solstice. Faythe didn’t know if it made her sad or grateful. Her life before was safe—carefree, even—but it was also a lie that had held her back from discovering who she truly was.

  “That was…an exception,” he said carefully.

  She knew there was something he was holding back from her, and she wanted to push. Maybe it was her nerves for the fight tomorrow or anger that he would abandon her when danger was imminent, but she realized how little she really knew about the fae guard she spent so much time with and had come to care deeply for.

  “What do you really do behind those walls, Nik?”

  A dark look flashed across his face so fast she could have missed it. He didn’t reply.

  She huffed a humorless laugh. “Right, of course. Not something you could share with a lowly human.” She sheathed her sword and grabbed her cloak, fastening it around herself and making to leave.

  His hand caught her elbow. “Don’t leave like this,” he begged, his face desolate.

  She whirled around to face him. His eyes were pleading, but she was too angry to feel bad for him. He knew everything about her and wouldn’t share anything about himself. Perhaps he had a gag order from the king to not speak of his affairs in the city or the castle, but it still hurt that he didn’t trust her enough. It would remain solely between them, whatever information he shared about his personal life.

  “I have to rest to have all the strength I can for tomorrow. I guess I’ll let you know how it pans out—or not, since it doesn’t seem to be to your interest.” She knew it was a low blow. He had been on edge all week and had to refrain from outright banning her from going. Yet she couldn’t stop the nastiness that came from her.

  His grip on her arm tightened slightly. “I won’t be there, but I’ve made sure other guards will be. Whoever you fight tomorrow will not get the chance to seriously hurt you, certainly not kill you, before they have orders to intervene.” His voice was low and stern.

  Her brow furrowed. “Orders from who?”

  His jaw twitched. “Let’s just say, I have influence,” he said in a way that told her the conversation was over.

  She was wise enough to note it and gave him a small nod in understanding.

&nb
sp; His face softened then, and he sighed, twisting her around fully and pulling her to him. She embraced him around the waist, inhaling his comforting scent when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin over her head. Just like that, all her negative feelings melted away.

  “You mean a great deal to me now, Faythe. I won’t let anyone harm you,” he said, his words so hushed they tugged at her heart.

  She pulled her head back to look him in the eye. “You mean a great deal to me too, Nik.”

  His hand held her chin as he kissed her one last time.

  Chapter 42

  Daylight fell to welcome twilight, and Faythe watched the hues of pink and orange diffuse the sky from her position on the rooftop. It was serene and could almost distract her from the fight of her life that would take place in just a few hours.

  She looked all the way out, past the harbor and over the unwavering line of the horizon, where the water shimmered confidently under the last fleeting rays of the bold descending sun. The air was clear and the streets below silent as the town settled before dusk chased away the last drops of the day.

  She was already dressed in her black suit, which had been mended by Marlowe the day after her last appearance in The Cave. Her cloak billowed behind her slightly in the cool night breeze, but she never registered the cold. She had told Jakon she wanted a moment alone and came up here in the hope the tranquil air would help to sedate her nerves. And it did, to an extent, while she reflected on everything she had learned with Nik and his assurance the fight could not get out of hand thanks to his friends in the guard.

  Now she’d had time to calm, she was glad Nik would not be there. She would likely take a beating of some sort, and she knew firsthand the pain of seeing a close companion hurt. If it were the other way around… Gods, she wouldn’t be of much help, but she would damn well try to intervene. Against man, against fae, against the damned Spirits if need be—she would fight for those she loved.

  With a final breath, Faythe left the rooftop.

  “Are you sure you have everything you need?” Jakon fussed for the third time.

  Faythe rolled her eyes and made a show of patting herself to check. Though, aside from her clothing, all she had was Lumarias sheathed to her back.

  “Armed and ready.” She saluted him in an attempt at light humor. He was growing more antsy by the minute, and it was seriously damaging the calm Faythe had been reeling herself into for the past few hours.

  He was about to scold her when Marlowe walked through the front door of the hut. As much as she had tried to persuade them to stay home, both her friends were firm on the fact they were going to attend tonight. Ferris was going to meet them here to get Jakon and Marlowe in, while Faythe would arrive alone a short while later. She didn’t want to be seen entering with them as the “Gold-Eyed Shadow” in case anyone looked closely enough to make the connection.

  “I made this for you,” Marlowe said as she approached Faythe, holding something in her palms. When she removed the small piece of cloth concealing the item, Faythe gasped at the beautiful jeweled long dagger beneath. “For good luck.” Marlowe smiled weakly.

  Faythe was deeply humbled by the kind gesture and took the dagger from her, marveling at it for a moment before embracing her friend tightly. “I love it. Thank you. It means a lot,” she said in all sincerity. She would have a piece from both of them on her tonight, and that symbol alone lit a new fire of strength and determination within.

  A moment later, a light rapping sounded at the door, signaling the arrival of Ferris. She looked to her friends and straightened with every ounce of mustered courage, more to ease their concerns than in genuine confidence.

  “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

  Standing as the same immovable force, the guards on either side of The Cave entrance didn’t balk or hesitate to open the thick iron doors as she swaggered toward them, concealed under her hood and mask. She didn’t let herself flinch either upon noticing the crowd of people reached all the way to those doors. They parted hastily when she approached.

  The whole venue—if that was what it could be called—was packed to full capacity, and as much as she tried to ignore it, she would be lying if she said it didn’t rattle her nerves. She was used to large audiences, but this?

  She weaved through them like a black wraith, and they moved out her way where there was small space to do so. People turned to each other and whispered as she passed, but she kept her eyes focused on getting to her usual entrance to the pit. She couldn’t see her friends in these masses and didn’t want to try looking.

  When she got to the other side, Ferris was already waiting for her, biting his fingers as he scanned the balconies. His eyes fell on her, and he visibly relaxed as if he thought she might not actually show up after all.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  She gave him a dead look, not deigning to respond to his ridiculous question.

  He winced and nodded his understanding. “Well, they should be ready any moment now you’ve arrived,” he said quickly, taking her cloak like he always did.

  She should have expected it, but for some reason, it unnerved her that her fae competitor was already in the same vicinity and had been waiting for her. She didn’t dare scan the mobs to find out if they were watching her at this very moment. The place was packed mostly with humans, but she hadn’t failed to notice the few pointed ears standing on the front line of the balcony. Humans left space around them, not bold enough to stand too close.

  “One last time, Faythe. And thank you, truly. You’re the bravest person I know,” Ferris said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

  If there weren’t so many eyes on her, she would have embraced the bastard, if only as one last comfort before she went down there, and to show her appreciation at the comment.

  “We bring you the fight of the decade!” the pit master bellowed from below.

  Faythe stiffened, and Ferris noted her surge of nerves at the announcement. He braced his hands on both her shoulders and forced her to keep looking at him.

  “It’ll be over quick. You won’t be harmed too badly. I’ve seen fae guards posted down below.”

  Faythe sagged in relief a little. Not that she doubted Nik’s word, but it was reassuring to know they’d be so close and were already stationed down there.

  “I introduce the notorious Gold-Eyed Shadow!”

  The revelers roared at her mention, and she breathed consciously, willing her heart to slow as she did before every fight. Ferris muttered a brief, “Good luck,” as she turned to walk down the stone stairs, right into the lion’s den.

  She descended with deliberate slowness, letting the jeering sounds of the crowd above fade, then tuned out completely with each step down she took. She plunged herself deep into the well of calm that would allow her to focus solely on her target and the sword she would wield. Faythe called on Nik’s teachings, Jakon’s courage, and Marlowe’s confidence and set fire to the embers of her own determination to succeed. She closed her eyes, steadying her heart rate to still her trembling hands. By the time she reached the bottom, she’d opened them, completely embodying the ego of the Gold-Eyed Shadow one last time…

  She didn’t look up and risk her nerve, especially if she were to spot her undoubtedly anxious friends. Instead, she took in the familiar surroundings of gruesome, bloodstained stone walls and the entrance where her opponent would appear.

  The pit master stood in the middle looking more shaken than usual. She supposed it had something to do with the presence of the three fae guards who were evenly spaced around the circular arena, each looking rather bored but standing straight with their hands over their swords should they be needed. She swallowed hard to moisten her paper-dry throat. Was her opposer that dangerous? She knew the fae were fast and strong, but even this seemed a little excessive for one being.

  “And now, I present the challenger.” The pit master’s voice faltered a little as he paused, already taking a s
tep toward his exit. “Captain Varis of the Royal Guard!”

  Everything around Faythe stopped the moment she heard the words. She recoiled in cold horror when the captain emerged from the entrance, his face taunting in malice as he stared directly at her with his first steps into the ring. His wicked scar gleamed under the lights of the pit, making him look all the more terrifying.

  She had to remember to breathe. She couldn’t lose her valor now, or the fight would be over before it even started.

  Then she recalled something about the captain Nik had warned her about so long ago. It was almost her undoing…

  “He’s one of the king’s most talented Nightwalkers. Don't ever underestimate him.”

  It shot a spear of ice-cold dread down her spine, threatening her sedated composure. All of her practice and training could be for nothing if he had mental barriers like Nik’s. Her one advantage was her ability, and it was the only thing that stood between her and being able to last even one minute in this fight. Without it…

  She didn’t even allow herself to wreck her emotions with the thought.

  It wasn’t humiliation she was afraid of; it was the look in the captain’s eye that told her he wasn’t going to end it that quickly. No—he wanted to make her suffer, and no one would stop him since that wasn’t against the rules. She was only protected against excessive brutality and a death strike, but she knew he’d be smart and would play it to look as if every hit he dealt her was fair game.

  The pit master called for them to draw their weapons and take stance. She was running out of time, and as she unsheathed her blade, she held his black stare and gently pushed into his mind in case he could feel her.