Page 12 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tauria

T auria had been assigned a handmaiden—a timid, young dark fae she’d liken to seventeen human years. She was beautiful, with inky black hair and eyes of the darkest brown. The top talons of her wings just peeked over her head.

“How long have you been in Fenstead, Edith?” Tauria asked while she sat in front of a vanity combing her hair.

The dark fae looked up to meet her reflection with shy surprise. “I was born here,” she said.

That inspired a protectiveness in Tauria. Despite being dark fae—which, in her lifetime and her parents’, had never been born in Fenstead—this made Edith one of her citizens.

“What do your parents do for work?” Tauria inquired.

Edith subtly flinched, sliding a final pin into a braid crowning Tauria’s head. “My mother was killed by my father. He’s…not a very good male. But a very powerful one.”

That slammed Tauria with shock. How barbaric the story of her parents was, even in the vaguest form.

“I’m so sorry.”

Edith smiled, wandering over to arrange Tauria’s outfit on the bed. “I have a good life here,” she said, losing herself in the task. “I have a new purpose—even more so now.” Her dark eyes slipped to Tauria.

“The winter is growing colder,” Tauria said. “Would you mind fetching us some tea to warm us?”

Edith considered this. It wasn’t like servants to refuse such simple requests, but her court wasn’t at all in the expected order.

Tauria planned to rebuild her court—her way. She had a week before her short trip to Valgard, and she was going to make the most of her time in her own kingdom.

When the handmaiden finally agreed and left Tauria, she immediately drifted past the emerald gown and dipped into the closet. Tauria dressed in all-black: a pair of tight-fitting pants and a tunic, with a belt for her staff. Slinging on a cloak, she hurried into the adjoining small dining area of this room she’d chosen deliberately for the escape passage that linked to it. There were several throughout the castle, and her chest squeezed that it was this one she’d taken to escape the day her kingdom was ambushed.

Throwing back the rug by the fireplace, she strained, gripping the latch to the door. Pushing her wind through the gap, she pulled it open, and it came up with far more ease.

Tauria descended the steps, closing the hatch and using her wind magick again to slip through the seal and blow the rug back into place. She felt mildly guilty thinking of Edith’s panic when she’d return to find Tauria gone, but she planned to be back before Mordecai would request she join him for supper.

When the bite of winter caught her cheeks, Tauria took a moment to breathe the free air. No one observed her. No one told her what to do. Tauria embraced this moment of reclaimed freedom back on her lands.

Drawing her hood, she walked casually through the streets. There wasn’t much traffic to lose herself in, so she merely observed the citizens, noticing how no one paid one another any attention. It was such a bleak contrast to the bustling joy she remembered filling these same roads. Strangers would greet each other, wishing good mornings and safe evenings. Smiles would be plastered on all faces, and as a child, she’d often thought Fenstead lived in its own realm of peace and happiness, disconnected from the burdens of the world she’d learned about in her schooling.

Tauria stopped by a shop she’d adored when she was young. It sold flowers and pottery, and every year, her mother brought her here for a treat. She always chose one of the beautifully painted saucers or cups, completely taken by the talent the shop owner possessed in her imagination and her skilled hands to paint such beauty.

Her reflection in the dull, cracked window sank with sorrow at the abandoned and destroyed shop now. How many more innocent places would she find stripped of all life and joy?

She headed inside anyway, out of nothing more than a deep nostalgic pull. Tauria’s boots crunched over foliage that had swept in through the gap in the door, now hanging off one hinge. Then, when she stepped and heard a break, she looked down sadly at the shattered, daisy-painted saucer.

“If you’re looking to loot the place, this is hardly going to trade you much coin.” A smooth, feminine voice spoke from behind her.

Tauria’s back stiffened. She tugged her hood over her forehead a little more and caught a glimpse of the person over her shoulder. “Did you follow me?” she asked.

“I merely wondered what kind of bandit would be interested in pottery. Though now I’m more intrigued as to what kind of bandit would think themselves valuable enough to be followed.”

The fae was little more than a silhouette with the light behind her. She stepped closer, and Tauria could take in more features. She had dark, triangular-shaped eyes and a delicate, bow-shaped mouth. She also kept her hood up, clad in leather combat attire, but her long black twin braids fell above her breasts. Tauria was quick to take note of the many weapons she carried around her belt. Between her fingers, she twirled steel in the shape of a star with lethal pointed edges. The way it spun between her hands without cutting her marked this fae as dangerous.

“I’m no one,” Tauria said—a pathetic attempt to sway this fae’s interest off her, but her mind drew a blank.

The fae smiled. It was the kind of smile that surged Tauria’s wind to her palms before the fae had even moved. When she did move, she was incredibly fast, sending the lethal metal star spinning toward her. Tauria’s wind threw off its trajectory. It would have struck her shoulder. Instead it thumped into the wall behind her.

Tauria stared at the fae, incredulous at the unprovoked attack, and braced again. But the fae didn’t retrieve another weapon. The attack had been a test, forcing Tauria to reveal her ability to confirm who she was.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Tauria Stagknight.”

Her cover hadn’t lasted long.

“Though don’t expect a warm welcome.”

“What is your name, and where are we going?”

Tauria realized she should have asked both of these questions before she followed this fae out the shop and down several familiar alleyways. Her mind was only at ease because of how well she knew the labyrinth of Calenmoore, so she could make a quick escape if needed, and she had her magick and staff to achieve it.

“My named is Tallia, and you’re going to see that even though you abandoned us, we never lost our fight for Fenstead.”

Tauria’s whole body flushed hot. A marble grew in her throat since she couldn’t protest or deny the accusation of having abandoned them. There wasn’t a day since she’d left that she hadn’t thought of Fenstead and remained determined to reclaim it one day—but all this time, she was about to discover, there’d been a resistance lurking in the shadows.

Tallia approached a drain used to prevent flooding. She scanned both sides of the lane before crouching, hauling the heaving metal open, and looking up at Tauria expectantly.

This was one series of passages running below her kingdom Tauria had never ventured. She didn’t enjoy being underground.

“I assume you can’t be gone long.” Tallia sighed, impatient. “So if you want to start proving you’re still our queen, hurry up.”

Tauria may hold the title, but she’d lost the respect of people like Tallia. She understood, and this was her chance to start proving that her heart and her devotion would always be with Fenstead.

She climbed down the drain ladder. Her boots sloshed in the shallow pool at the bottom. These drains were hollowed-out cylinders, dark and cold.

Tauria followed Tallia, putting complete faith in her that this wasn’t a trap. It may be reckless, but Tauria didn’t have the time or the luxury to play it safe.

She soon picked up on voices, which sharpened all her senses, putting her on high alert.

“Keep quiet and just observe,” Tallia warned under her breath.

The next tunnel opened into an expansive space. The floors were grates of metal, with a pole as a barrier on the balcony. As Tauria eased out, tucking herself behind some people, she couldn’t believe the masses of bodies gathered several levels high in this underground system.

Those who spoke came from below, and Tauria couldn’t help her curiosity, slipping through the gaps between bodies to edge closer to the rail and peer over.

Half a dozen fae stood as the center of everyone’s attention. A gasp left her when she recognized two of them. General Saki Corrigan and Lord Berron Lumiah. They’d both been close with her father—she’d seen them often around the castle.

“Tauria’s return means nothing for us now,” someone from the crowd spoke out.

Her skin crawled to have intruded while she was the topic of conversation, but she needed to hear this.

“This is what we have been waiting for,” Lord Berron said calmly.

“One hundred years ago, not now.”

“Perhaps exactly now. One hundred years ago, we were broken and devastated. It was not the time to fight back but to rally the force we are today—for this moment.”

“We don’t need her. We’ve done just fine without her. You should rule, not her. You’ve been here all this time, not her.”

Tauria’s spine locked. A spark of hope had ignited at finding Lord Berron, who’d been so kind and encouraging to her, often referred to as an uncle. But if she found out he’d led this resistance with the motive to take her throne…

“Tauria Stagknight is our queen. Anyone who opposes that should speak now, as we are not on the same side, and I do not consider you an ally of Fenstead.”

Relief slackened her posture.

Tauria couldn’t stand here and watch them debate her integrity. She pulled down her hood. Gripping the pole, she ducked under it, leaning her weight over the edge as she slipped her shortened staff free.

“Loyal until the very end, Lord Berron,” she announced, seizing the heavy attention of the hall as it broke into murmurs.

He glanced up, and the moment he smiled she knew she never should have doubted him for a second.

Tauria flicked the lever on her staff, extending it to midway. As she let go of the rail and fell, she twisted it between both hands, unlocking the full length, and conjured the will of the wind through it to land in an elegant brace.

Before the air stopped swirling, Berron hurried his steps to meet her. They collided, and it took everything in her not to break into sobs with the welcome embrace of home. In his strong arms, Tauria realized he was the closest she had left to a father figure.

“Oh, my dear Tauria. Just as we’ve been planning a movement of infiltration to reach you within those castle walls,” he said.

They released each other, and she was overcome with love staring into his deep brown eyes inside dark skin, which had aged with more lines since last she’d seen him.

He cupped her cheek as concern pulled between his wiry brows. “This might not be the best time for you to be here. There is much unrest with your arrival.”

Glancing over his shoulder, she saw the other four fae leading this resistance certainly didn’t seem pleased to see her, but Saki cast her a small smile, approaching and pulling her into an embrace.

“Welcome home,” Saki said, her voice a gentle song of her homeland.

It was the first time anyone had said those words. Words she’d longed to hear for a lifetime. Once again she struggled to hold herself together.

“I found our queen wandering recklessly through the east town,” Tallia said.

Tauria turned, finding her leaning with arms crossed against a pillar, fiddling a new metal star between her fingers, which Tauria eyed warily.

Someone called out, “How do we know she isn’t a spy for the Nether lord?” Their bitterness wasn’t subtle.

Another sneered. “She’s only here as his bride after all.”

Berron’s eyes slipped to her with a wince. “There are many questions regarding your unexpected arrival. With all the rumors of Transitioned dark fae, your near marriage to Tarly Wolverlon, and your possible mating with Nikalias, you’ll understand we have only snippets of information.”

“I want to explain all. You deserve no less, and I have nothing to hide,” Tauria said, loud enough for everyone to hear. She looked up, wandering around the circumference and taking in the many frightened, angry, and upset faces of her people. Those who hadn’t given up on Fenstead. It was now her chance to convince them not to give up on her as their queen.

Tauria Stagknight told her story. No one disturbed her, and she watched many emotions pass through the people who listened to her every word. She told them what had happened the day she fled. She told them about her mate, Nik, and about their dreams for High Farrow and Fenstead. She spoke of the war far beyond the belief it was one kingdom responsible for their terror. Tauria explained as best she could about the Goddesses in their realm and everything she and her friends had done so far toward eradicating the greatest threat their continent had ever seen.

When she finished, Tauria retired from the center of attention.

“You did well,” Berron when she reached him at the side of the floor.

All her tales and information had left the crowd chatting among themselves, absorbing it all and deciding whether they trusted her word.

“That’s still up for judgment,” she said.

Tauria couldn’t be certain she was safe in being here. If there was even one potential traitor or someone who opposed her, they could easily put her in peril if word of her appearance at a resistance reached Mordecai.

Movements in war were never without risk.

“I need to be getting back,” Tauria said.

“I’ll go with you, just to the entry point,” Saki offered.

“When will we next see you?” Berron asked.

Tauria’s gaze slipped to Tallia, who hadn’t moved from where she was leaning against the pillar. When their eyes met, whatever she read in Tauria had her straightening up, a protest lining her face.

“I don’t think it’s safe for me to wander out too many times, but I think I have an idea,” Tauria said.