“When you assumed I was a guard from the solstice…it was the perfect cover. I never lied, only concealed my true name and standing.”
“Semantics.”
She had seen it in his mind—the truth he couldn’t hide from her; his feelings for her. While it comforted her to know she was not alone in those, nothing would ever be the same for them.
“Who I am—it changes nothing.”
“It changes everything.”
“Not the way I feel about you.”
Her heart splintered, and she had to turn her gaze from his. “It can never be between us. It never really was anything. The fae guard I fell for…he was never real.”
Nik opened his mouth to respond, but the main door interrupted his words as the same two guards entered through it. Taking in the open cell door and the risk to their prince, both guards darted for the hilt of their swords.
Faythe rolled her eyes.
One cleared his throat. “Your Majesty requires your presence in the throne room, Your Highness. We’re to escort the prisoner.”
She would never get used to him being addressed with such a foreign title.
Nik sighed as he looked down at Faythe. The unspoken words he had for her would remain so, possibly forever, if she was to head to her death. She was ready. If Nik hadn’t lied, Marlowe and Jakon were still alive. There was still hope, and she would do everything in her power to see them walk out of here, free.
Nik left her with one last longing look before he stalked out of the cell and then out of her view completely.
The guards warily stepped inside. Faythe smiled slyly at them, and they flinched a little, both of them taking extra caution to avert their eyes. She could at least have fun with their obvious unease about what she could do.
They mercifully removed her chains, and she rubbed her tender wrists, which had formed thick red abrasions. Each guard held her tightly by the arm so she couldn’t make any quick maneuvers. She didn’t plan to fight or struggle anyway. Words would have to be her weapon if she stood a chance of getting her friends set free.
They took her down familiar hallways. She’d tried to note as much detail as she could in her previous short tours. A lot of them looked the same, and she knew she wouldn’t stand much chance of navigating her way out easily—if at all. She glanced at her guards, but they didn’t dare look back, and she smirked to herself. They passed a few others, and she picked up on the sound of a couple more joining her escort.
Faythe had to admit, she was kind of flattered the king considered her such a threat to warrant so many. They approached the familiar double doors of the great hall, and the two fae posted outside swiftly opened them before they arrived. Her guards didn’t falter a step as they guided her in.
Inside, she beheld the king atop the dais on his throne, his ward on the smaller throne to his right, and Nik on his left. She allowed herself one quick glance at the prince, and his eyes met hers with cool impassiveness. It made her realize he must have kept the knowledge of just how well he knew her from his father.
Faythe then cast her gaze to the ward and was struck as she only now took in the full appearance of her hostage. Her skin was a glowing golden brown, and her long, dark brunette hair fell like a waterfall of silk, elegantly half-braided back to show off her delicately pointed ears, which were decorated beautifully with gold accents. She sat perfectly poised in a deep green flowing gown, appearing like a monarch in her own right. But what stunned Faythe the most was the bright, eager smile she cast back to her. Not exactly the reaction she expected when she’d held the ward at knifepoint and threatened to end her life.
Finally, her eyes fell on the king who stalked her carefully, calculating. Perhaps deciding how best to make a show of her death as the human girl who brought a fae to his knees and took hostile action against another.
The guards halted a few paces before the throne and bowed. Faythe remained upright, and the king’s eyes narrowed in irritation at the disrespect. She felt hands on her back about to force her down, but the king raised a hand, and they released her, stepping to the side but remaining close.
“It seems you are something that has not existed before, Faythe,” the king began. “And I fear what you may be capable of if left…unchecked.” This was it: her death sentence. She squared her shoulders, about to plead for the life of her friends with her last breath, but he continued. “That is why, at my son’s wise counsel, I have decided you may be of use to me here in the castle.”
Faythe couldn’t have heard right. Her eyes flashed to Nik’s in accusation, but he showed no emotion.
“Just listen.”
She heard it at the edge of his mind. She wanted to scowl at him, but instead, she reluctantly turned back to the king.
“You can’t be serious,” she said.
His jaw flexed at her informal tone. “Oh, I assure you, I am very serious. In return for my sparing your life and dismissing your treason, the rest of your days will be bound to my service as my spymaster. However, you will live here under an alias as emissary to the humans in the presence of any…guests.”
It took her a moment to register his words and be sure she heard them correctly. Faythe laughed breathily. She looked around the hall, but no one shared her incredulous humor at the completely absurd idea. Her laughter faltered as she took in everyone’s straight faces and realized this was no joke. Then it dawned on her exactly what he was asking. No—not asking; ordering, or it would indeed be her life. But to be his spymaster…
“I won’t.”
His eyes flashed at her defiance. “I throw you a lifeline—a very generous offer—and you have the audacity to decline me?” His voice dropped low.
She tried not to let the dark tone rattle her. “I will not do your dirty work. If you can’t trust those in your company, Your Majesty, I suggest you seek new counsel.”
His nostrils flared, and he shot to his feet. The sudden movement made her flinch, but she did not retreat back as he stepped down to her level, still casting a shadow as he stood a foot taller.
“You would rather die? Miserable, pathetic human,” he spat. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear enough.” He motioned his hand to a guard, and a second later, she heard a clamor to her right.
Her head snapped to the side at the commotion, and her entire body fell with relief upon seeing her friends alive. Shaken, but alive.
“It was not a request.” He gave a small nod in their direction.
Steel flashed and sang through the hall as the guards who held them drew their weapons, poised to strike the instant the command was made.
“Wait!” she screamed. “I—I’ll do it. Please. If you let them go, I’ll do everything you ask. I won’t resist it.” Her eyes met those of her friends, and her heart shattered at the sight. Even Jakon looked weak and exhausted, but the fire in his stare remained at least. How would she ever get them to forgive her?
The king scoffed. “So weak, you humans.” He stalked back up to the dais. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement. Your friends will be free to leave tonight. You, however, will remain.”
She sagged in overwhelming relief. They would live and get to go back to their homes; to be with each other. That was all that mattered. She had tethered herself to the Netherworld to do it, but she supposed that was always her end destination anyway.
“All I ask is a moment to say goodbye. Please,” she begged.
The king contemplated. As if deciding it wasn’t worth the argument or her outcry if he denied her, he simply waved a bored hand, permitting her to go to them.
She briskly made the short walk to the side of the hall, and the guards stepped away from her friends as she fell into them with an arm hooked around both. They all held each other in silence for a moment, relived none of them would be meeting an inevitable end. Then she pulled back, unsure of how many precious minutes the king would have mercy for before they were snatched away from her again.
“I’m so sorry. I know you can ne
ver forgive me, but—”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Marlowe said softly. “Thank you for coming for me. I will never forget it.”
“What have you promised them, Faythe? I’m not leaving without you,” Jakon growled.
“I’ll be okay. They’re keeping me alive at least. They seem to think I might actually be useful to them.” She huffed a laugh to disguise her revulsion at what they had planned for her. “You need to go and promise me you’ll look after each other. This is not goodbye—not even close. I’ll find a way to see you again soon.” Her throat burned with a painful lump as she tried to keep her voice steady and not break down completely.
Jakon pulled her to him, his arms tightening as if he planned to screw the odds and run off with her. “One word. You get one word to me, and I’ll tear the damned wall down to get you out,” he mumbled into her hair.
Gods, she knew he would—or would at least die trying.
“I’ll be okay,” she repeated.
When Jakon released her, Marlowe immediately pulled her into her own bone-crushing embrace. The quiet whisper of her voice in her ear sent a shiver through her.
“This is the right path, Faythe.”
She could have collapsed as a million thoughts hit her at once at those words. Did Marlowe know the captain would come for her? Had she simply played her role, knowing this would always be the outcome?
Faythe didn’t get to ask any of it out loud as Marlowe went on to answer her unspoken questions quietly but cryptically. “Nothing is certain. Fate can change. Good may not always triumph. But you are on the right path toward the beginning of the end.”
It was all riddles to Faythe, but she understood Marlowe’s gift as an oracle meant she couldn’t press for information—at the risk of altering far more than her own life, it seemed. The Spirits worked through her; knowledge was both a blessing and a curse for the blacksmith. She had the power to guide the light but the burden of knowing impending darkness and being helpless to change the order of events. There could be no victory without suffering; no compassion without pain.
Faythe’s grip tightened on Marlowe. “It doesn’t feel like the right path,” she admitted, perhaps selfishly as she thought of her wicked role for the king.
They released each other, and Faythe cursed the tear that rolled down her cheek. Marlowe wiped it away with a sad smile.
“That’s enough! Take them away and escort them to the wall,” the king’s voice boomed from across the hall.
Faythe quickly reached under her suit and tugged hard at the pendant hanging there. The thin rope snapped, and she pressed it into the blacksmith’s hand, looking her dead in the eye.
“Its effects are true.”
Marlowe’s eyes widened as she heard Faythe’s thought in her mind. She glanced at the slab of magestone and then gave Faythe a subtle nod of understanding. She let out a sob as Marlowe was roughly pulled from her grasp by nearby guards.
“Look after each other,” Faythe called again when they were dragged further out of reach.
She tunneled into hollow despair with each stride they made away from her, until they were both gone through the wooden side door. She would have collapsed right then if she wasn’t all too aware of the audience behind her. Quickly wiping her face, she straightened, holding back her sadness for when she could finally be alone again.
Chapter 52
After her friends’ departure, a guard approached Faythe, and she snapped her eyes to him. He quickly averted his gaze. These guards were quick studies.
She heard movement from behind and twisted to see the king and his ward stalking toward her. Faythe straightened nervously at the dark approaching force.
His voice dropped deadly low. “Make no mistake, girl. If you try a single mind trick or try to attack or escape, I will personally see to your agonizing execution.”
She swallowed hard at the lingering threat.
Then his voice perked, and the mood turned chillingly jovial. “Lady Tauria will find suitable living quarters for you. I trust there are some apologies to be made for your earlier antics.” He gestured a lazy hand to his ward, who kept a sweet smile as she looked at Faythe.
Honestly, she would admit Tauria made her more anxious than the king in that moment. Did she plan to settle the score between them the second she got Faythe alone?
Tauria walked gracefully past her and mumbled for her to follow. She did so without a glance back at where Nik stood atop the dais.
Six guards flanked them, and Faythe refrained from huffing at the excessive protection detail. It wasn’t as if she could hold the minds of more than one person—or, at least, she had never tried and supposed they were just as unknowing about the full extent of her powers as she.
They weaved through a maze of hallways that all looked the same, and neither female spoke. The pristine splendor of the palace was more daunting than welcoming, making Faythe feel hideously out of place at the stark contrast to her humble hut. This was to be her new home? It shocked her to hear she was even getting living quarters as she had highly anticipated she would spend her life in the cells given the king’s obvious distaste for her. But she was to be integrated as a member of his counsel; spymaster to those in the know, and human emissary to any outsiders. She knew such a title had never existed in High Farrow’s history—or likely any kingdom’s past. The fae couldn’t care less about the affairs and lives of the humans in the towns below them.
Jakon and Marlowe—they were the reason she would submit to it. As much as the thought twisted a knot in her stomach, it would ensure their safety, for she had no doubt his offer of execution would extend to them also if she refused or stepped out of line.
They walked down another wide, bright hallway that looked just like the last—except a few paintings were different, she noted.
“It might look like an endless loop of halls at first, but you’ll learn the differences quite quickly,” Tauria said, observing Faythe as she scanned her surroundings.
Faythe met her deep brown stare. “I’m sorry…about before. I just needed the king to hear me,” she said sheepishly.
Tauria shrugged in dismissal. “I wanted him to hear you too.” A sly smile appeared at the corners of her mouth, and Faythe’s brow rose. The ward stopped in front of a large wood door. “This should do nicely.” She opened the door and glided inside.
Faythe hesitated for a second before following her in with four guards. Two others remained outside.
She stood and gaped when she entered. She was sure the bedroom was big enough to fit the whole feeble structure of the hut inside, with an excessively large bed a prominent focal feature along the wall. She walked a few steps further in, eyes grazing the finery in admiration. She spotted a separate wardrobe ready to be filled with clothes, and a private bathroom complete with its own bath. Another door to her right led off into a small dining area.
Gods, she had never seen such a luxurious living space, and this was to be where she stayed?
“A little ostentatious, I know, but I’m sure you’ll find yourself quite comfortable.” Tauria’s eyes twinkled in amusement at Faythe’s dumbfounded gawking. Then the ward headed to the far end of the room that was lined with full-length glass double doors leading onto a stone-walled balcony. She pushed them open and stepped outside.
Faythe read her silent invitation to follow, where they might talk semi-privately out of earshot of the four guards.
It was night, and the cloudless sky opened up to a view of the bright blanket of stars and a glorious full moon that illuminated where they stood. Tauria braced her palms on the balcony’s stone rail, and Faythe stepped up to join her. The view that unfolded from the vantage point took the breath from her. The entire inner city sparkled as if the sky had rained its stars below.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tauria commented.
Faythe didn’t reply. Instead, she asked, “Why are you being kind to me?” It wasn’t an accusation or a lack of appreciation, but Faythe didn�
��t expect the warm reception from any fae female, never mind one whose life she had threatened.
Tauria looked at her, eyes turning a bright hazel in the moonlight. “Why shouldn’t I be?” When Faythe didn’t reply again, not seeing the need to state the obvious, Tauria sighed sadly. “We’re not all the heartless, human-hating monsters your people have come to see us as, Faythe. I hope in time you will see that.”
Faythe winced. “It’s hard to believe your kind has any regard for us when you live like this while so many suffer in those towns outside the wall.” She nodded to the city below.
Tauria was quiet in contemplation of her words, but then she spoke again. “There are a lot of us who would like to see that changed.”
Faythe turned to the ward, glancing briefly at the delicate points of her ears that set the two females apart. For a moment, she imagined what it would be like for their two species to get along in friendship and equality rather than live in a divided coexistence. It struck her then that in Tauria’s voice, she heard the words and wisdom of Nik. It warmed and broke her heart at the same time.
“Do you think it’s possible?” Faythe said quietly.
The ward gave a wholesome smile. “When Prince Nikalias takes the throne, I think it will be the dawning of a new age for the citizens of High Farrow—for both races.” Tauria spoke in loving admiration of Nik, and it had her wondering what kind of history lay between them.
They stood in silent thought, and Faythe tried to imagine her kind living side by side with the fae in the star-kissed city below. The image put a smile of hope on her face.
Tauria released a long breath. “I’ll leave you to get acquainted with your rooms.” She turned for the glass doors. “I’ll have one of the servants stock the wardrobe with clothing for you, and you’ll have a uniform for any meetings and formal business the king requires your presence for.” Tauria glanced over her, and Faythe shifted. “You can bathe and freshen up in the washroom. I’ll have fresh clothing sent up and a hot meal.” Tauria twisted and strolled back into the room.
An Heir Comes to Rise Page 34
