Faythe could have sobbed in defeat. He wouldn’t listen to her, and they would all die here in this castle. She didn’t fight when her friends were both pulled to their feet and they were all escorted from the hall. She dared one last look at Nik, but he never met her eyes. Damned spineless coward! She wanted to shout the words at him, but Faythe had become too tired for her anger to rise. She had failed, and her friends would pay the ultimate price. There were no more cards to play; there was no saving grace. She fell into a hollow pit of despair and let her hope fade to nothing.
Chapter 49
The prince stared after Faythe and her friends in cold trepidation but kept his face placid. His father could not know about his connection to Faythe and what he’d been doing these past months. Gods, if his father knew what she meant to him, he would kill her in an instant. It was one thing to feel sympathy and compassion for the humans, but to love one…
The king could never find out. He would end her life as a brutal lesson for him alone.
His mind was still reeling from seeing her, dagger poised over Tauria’s throat, when he was summoned to the throne room. It took every restraint in him not to grab her and flee from his father right then. As much as it pained Nik to see the look on her face—the look of betrayal at learning who he really was—he had to be smart so he wouldn’t get them both implicated. He only prayed Faythe would remain impassive about knowing him too.
She had played that part too well, and he knew her anger and loathing were not a front. There was no friendliness or love in her eyes when she glared right through him, and he had achingly tried to refrain from looking at her or his face would have begged her to hold off judgement until he could explain.
“Tell me what else you know of this…Faythe,” his father demanded as soon as they were alone again.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Her powers are strong, as you already saw for yourself. But I think she is capable of a lot more.”
“Do you think I should put her down before she becomes a threat?”
A test—his father was always one to feel him out on sensitive matters such as executions. He claimed his son’s heart was too soft to one day be the ruler of High Farrow.
“Yes. The kingdom has no room for such an unhinged, traitorous thing.” The words burned like acid in his throat when he thought of who he was forcing himself to speak such words about. But his father liked agreement and ruthlessness. After a pause to let his satisfactory answer settle in, he continued. “But then again…she could prove to be a useful weapon.”
The king raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh?”
He didn’t let himself back out of the horrible fate he was about to propose. “As you said, the Nightwalking ability has limits. Faythe does not. She can know everything with a single glance into a conscious mind, right in the moment. She is powerful. With our training, she could bring your enemies to their knees before you. Best of all, no one would expect her to exist, least of all as a human.” He stepped up onto the dais to look down on his father still sitting on the throne.
Nik knew Faythe would detest the idea; would quite likely rather die than serve the king in such a manner, invading people’s unwitting thoughts—even strangers—even if it would save her life. But it wasn’t her own life Nik was counting on her being desperate enough to save.
“You are wise indeed, my son,” his father commented, and he could see he was deliberating.
“I, for one, quite like her spirit.” Tauria’s voice bounced through the room. She dabbed a small cloth over her neck where Faythe had drawn blood, the wound already sealed over.
Nik raised an eyebrow, suppressing a crooked smile.
“What? It’s not often you see a female with such fire.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
He supposed he should have seen it sooner—that Faythe and Tauria matched in strong-willed spirits—but it made him nervous for the world if they were to ever meet. Without one holding the other as a hostage, that is.
“I shall think on it. And what of the other two?” the king asked the counsel.
Nik turned to him again. “It would be unwise to kill them. She won’t make a cooperative ally if you kill her friends, and you can’t force her ability out of her.”
“If we let treason go unpunished, it puts the kingdom at risk and makes us look weak.”
“I believe there has been no treason committed, Your Majesty. As I’ve been watching Faythe, I have also been tracking her friends to see what information they hold, and I have suspected nothing.”
A small lie, but if Marlowe or Jakon were to die here—Gods, she’d bring the might of the Netherworld to their doors. While he had not really seen inside Marlowe’s head for himself, he knew the captain had lied to get to Faythe.
Nik decided he would find some way to have Varis removed—and not just from his position.
“You say Captain Varis has lied. What reasons would he have?”
“There are rumors of his unsavory activities in the human towns. Perhaps he held a grudge against someone else, and the girl was collateral.”
The king hummed and rose from his throne. “I will think on your proposition for this Faythe girl. To award a criminal with a high position in my court—a human… It has never been done before.”
Nik could only pray to the Spirits his father would see her usefulness outweighed her brazenness, because the alternative… He couldn’t bear to think of it.
Chapter 50
Faythe sat hollow against the cold, uneven wall of her cell, the ground chillingly damp beneath her. She would have registered the bitter nip of the icy stone if she were capable of feeling anything at all in her numb state. They had taken her weapons and even her cloak, then chained her to the back wall of the cell as if they were afraid anyone who came too close to the iron bars might fall under her mind’s grasp if she had free movement.
The thought humored Faythe slightly. How the mighty fae people could be fearful of her… She didn’t know if she could do it again—seize control of a mind like she did with Varis. She had acted purely on instinct and desperation and had no recollection of how to replicate it.
The harsh scrape of iron bit at her wrists. They were already red and swollen from her futile attempts to maneuver them free. The steady drip of a leak somewhere nearby had been the only sound for a while now, and she had no concept of how many hours had passed. She had been ripped away from her friends the moment they came down here, and she didn’t know where they had been taken as she was alone in the block of dark, empty cells that reeked of neglect and death.
Jakon fought valiantly, but it had been wasted energy. Marlowe only cried, and Faythe was too broken to do anything but watch helplessly as they were separated without a chance of saying goodbye. Faythe wasn’t even sure if they were still alive or had been executed the minute she was not there to stop it. So she lay down, the sound of her chains echoing through the loneliness, and slept for a temporary escape from her crippling pain and grief.
When she awoke again, it was to the screeching cry of a door opening and rough boots shuffling against gravel. She groggily propped herself up to lay her head back against the wall and brought her knees up in a casual position to greet her guest.
Captain Varis came into view, and Faythe huffed a laugh, all fear she had of the male gone. When his eyes flashed in rage, she laughed harder until she was clutching her stomach while the space echoed eerily with the sound. Recalling the look of helplessness on his face and the sight of him thrashing in terror made the laughter rumble through her in her state of delirium. But there was no humor, and she simply relished in making him angry. If these were to be her last days—last hours—she had nothing else to live for now. He had taken everything from her.
The captain slammed his palms against the bars, and the loud clash of rattling metal cut through her chuckles. She slowed her giggling to a stop but kept her wide smile. She was surprised he still remained outside the cell and had not entered to beat her to oblivion
as his look told her he desperately wanted to.
“You’ll find you won’t get into my mind so easily next time.” He seethed.
“Want to come closer, and we’ll find out?” Her eyes danced in challenge.
His nostrils flared. She could see he was deliberating. The darkness put a dampener on her even being able to try to make the initial connection into his mind from where she sat. When she locked eyes with Varis in the throne room, she had felt everything through him, and the sensation of being in such a wicked mind still made her sick to her stomach. Mixing her thoughts and feelings with his was a dangerous gamble. If she dove too deep, she could have lost herself completely and done things there would be no coming back from.
“How you managed to deceive so many people in that cave… It’s fitting it was your own foolishness and arrogance that brought you here. To think you could best me.”
“If I remember correctly, you failed to best me also. Not as sharp as you thought you were, it seems.”
“I could have crushed your throat without any feat of strength.”
“After I held a dagger under yours. But if it helps you rest easy at night to see that as a win, by all means.”
She was really just trying to rouse him enough to get him to break through the bars so she could have a second chance to end him. She had no reason to hold back this time; the king had already cast his verdict on them all.
“I’ve seen your darkest fears, Varis. You are nothing more than a sheep in wolf’s skin. You can drop the façade. It must be exhausting.”
She watched in delight as his fingers flexed tighter around the cell bars, using all his restraint not to pull them clean from the wall and storm right in to kill her with his bare hands. He had more control than she gave him credit for as, instead, he lifted his chin after taking a moment to calm.
“Your life will be short, girl. I’ll make sure I’m the one to end it for you. Consider it a parting gift…just like I gave your friends.”
The air turned ice-cold, and Faythe lunged for him. The chains stung her wrists, but she bit back the pain and snarled. She strained furiously to get a line into his mind, but he was too far away, and his black eyes were barely distinguishable in the grim darkness.
“I’m going to kill you,” she promised.
It was his chuckling that now filled the silence, and Faythe jolted again.
“You probably should have when you had the chance,” he sang as he walked off.
The main door opened, and when it slammed shut, the vibrations met with loneliness once again.
Faythe slumped back down in a heap, and the tears started to fall. Everyone she loved was dead because of her. It had started with her mother and ended with Marlowe and Jakon. The pain was so overwhelming she screamed and let her anguish ricochet off the stone and iron cage. When they came for her, she would make it count. No matter what she had to do, she would make them suffer as she now suffered. And the crown prince would be her target.
She didn’t know when she fell asleep again. Days could have passed, and she’d be none the wiser as she confined herself to that dark, restful pit. She couldn’t bear to stay inside her own mind for long; didn’t want to conjure the images of her friends for fear she would find some way to end her own suffering. She would meet her end, but not until she achieved something in her last moments. Not until she had the chance to unleash her retribution on the King of High Farrow.
“Be wary of colorless eyes.”
Had Aurialis known this day would come? Was that some sort of warning about the trap she’d naïvely fallen into? First with Captain Varis, and now with the king. Both had the same haunting black orbs.
Faythe cast away the thought of the Spirit of Life, even cursed her, as she had failed her friends. She forced herself to sit up, her bones aching from the solid ground as they had not provided her with hay or any form of padding. She sat limp, with her hands on her stretched-out legs. The dripping sound actually kept her sane—it was like a metronome for her thoughts. She should have been smarter; should have forced Jakon to stay home so at least one of them would have a life. She had been on a fool’s mission from the beginning.
The block door cried open again, and Faythe tipped her head back against the wall with a groan. She was far too low on emotional energy for another round of insults and taunting from Captain Varis.
But it was not the black-eyed monster who greeted her this time. Instead, the demon bore eyes of striking green and a mask of cunning deceit.
Two other guards were behind the prince. His stare never left her as he said to them, “Leave us.” They hesitated but reluctantly shuffled out, foolishly leaving her alone with her intended target of revenge.
She straightened her head to look at him. “A visit from the Crown Prince of High Farrow himself. I should be honored,” she drawled.
“Faythe, I—”
“You don’t get to call me that,” she snapped. “You don’t get to call me anything. I am nothing to you, as you are nothing to me.”
She could have sworn his eyes twinkled with sadness. Another game. One she wouldn’t fall for this time. She heard the keys jingle in his hand a moment before he twisted them into the lock and the door swung open. Foolish prince. He stepped inside but remained at a distance. If he came a little closer, she would throw everything into breaking his damned wall, and she would tear him from the inside out.
“I had to tell him, or he would have killed you right there,” he said quietly.
She laughed without humor. “Don’t act like you give a damn.” Her eyes met his—still too far away in the dark. “I have to give you some credit though: you played the role perfectly. Or perhaps I’m simply more of a fool than I thought.”
He took another step toward her. “I was never pretending, Faythe. Never with you.”
She ignored him. “I hope I at least satisfied your human curiosities. Tell me, are we as fragile as you thought?”
A pained look shot across his face.
She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s just a pity you never got to sample the full-course menu…” She clicked her tongue. “Might have hindered your findings a little.”
He took a small step closer, and it was enough. As soon as she felt his mind, she slammed into the black wall with everything she had and saw him physically wince. It was starting to crack, and she pushed harder. He didn’t retreat, when he could have in a matter of seconds. Instead, he walked toward her, and when he was right in front, he crouched to where she sat.
“I’m going to let you in. To show you it was all real,” he said, heartbreakingly soft.
At his closeness and tender voice, tears welled in her eyes from better memories. But they were lies and disillusioned feelings. She didn’t break focus.
The strain lifted as he granted her access, and she stumbled into his mind. Flashes of thoughts and feelings came her way, but she pushed them aside and dove deeper and deeper until she found the part of his mind she was searching for.
Nik audibly gasped. “Faythe—”
She told his lungs to stop breathing air, and a choked sound came from him. She forced his knees to meet the hard stone, and she too shifted herself to kneel in front of him.
His eyes were wide as he gasped for breath. She took his face in her hands. Tears trailed down her cheeks, but she made no sound as she watched the prince before her flounder for breath, unable to inhale. He would suffocate soon, and for what felt real on her part—the days they had spent and kisses they shared—she would hold him until the light in his eyes went out. Even though he had betrayed her, even though her body trembled in pain to do so, she could kill him. For Marlowe, for Jakon, for his role in their deaths, and to punish the king. She could do it.
He gripped her arms as she felt him start to fade, but one message shot through the walls she’d put around herself in his mind.
“They’re alive.”
Faythe inhaled sharply, and the mental shield she’d erected around herself wavered.
He showed her an image of her friends in a cell, huddled together, cold and scared but…alive.
“How do I know that wasn’t days ago?”
She wouldn’t let him breathe again, not yet—not when he could force her back out of his mind the moment she released control.
“You have to trust me.”
“Not good enough.”
Then all his feelings were thrown at her at once, and she was living through familiar memories from a different perspective. Everything they’d seen together; every moment they’d shared together—it was real. His emotions wracked through her like a storm, and she sobbed. Not in relief or happiness. She sobbed in sadness and frustration. This changed everything and nothing at the same time.
His grip on her arms loosened, and his hands fell as his mind began to fade to blackness…
Faythe let his body fall.
Chapter 51
Faythe sat back against the cell wall, bringing her knees up to her chest as she watched Nik’s still figure lying in front of her. Unconscious, but breathing. After a short moment, he came around and groggily rose to a sitting position.
He groaned. “I suppose I deserved that.” His voice croaked.
She remained emotionless. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
His face fell, and then he stood, brushing himself off. She took in his appearance as he did, and it was so obvious she wanted to slap herself. Prince Nikalias Silvergriff of High Farrow. Though he wore casual clothes when they met, his poise, his grace, his secretiveness… It was right there in front of her the whole time. She had been too blinded by her own problems to really look at him. Maybe if she had, she would have figured it out sooner.
“I’m sorry, Faythe—truly. I never meant to deceive you by not telling you who I really was. Nothing would have been the same if you knew. You would never have trusted me to help you.”
She wanted to laugh at the irony. “And I’m supposed to trust you now? Trust built on the foundation of a lie is always doomed to fall.”
An Heir Comes to Rise Page 33
