Page 63 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Tarly

D iscovering his bloodline could be traced to Hilia herself had Tarly’s mind wandering. He supposed it didn’t have much relevance beyond helping them into this cave, but if he lived through his dark fae bite by some miracle, the new fact inspired him to learn more about this essence of healing magick that was buried inside him. Tarly’s hand brushed Nerida’s as they walked through the darkness, the thought of it bringing them closer.

She smiled up at him, and it slammed in his chest every time. My mate. He couldn’t stop repeating it in his mind when they were close. Nik was right…there was only one way to be certain if the bond was real, and Tarly’s whole body was riled with carnal need at the thought of tasting her in more ways than one.

They came to the end of the passage, which opened up, illuminated by a source he couldn’t find. It was as if the very walls themselves glowed, and the air hummed with a warning energy that tightened his hand in Nerida’s.

There was a statue carved out of stone and claimed by sea moss, depicting a nymph with a long, curling tail, long hair covering her bare chest, and a circlet over her head. It had to be a memorial of Hilia, who held the legendary trident in her hand. A curved masterpiece of three lethal teeth turning to arrow points.

Droplets of water hitting stone was all that disturbed the silence through their collective breathing. Tarly surveyed the walls and the low-set roof with growing unease at the moisture that leaked through. As if the cave might collapse under the weight of the fall crashing all around this carved-out pocket of air. Off to the side was a second passage, but they’d already found what they were looking for.

Edith stood before a narrow altar, where a sparkling jeweled chest sat. Her hands reached up to open it?—

“Wait,” Tarly said. “We don’t know if it’s safe.”

“How else are we meant to find out?” Edith snapped, but her sweet smile flashed over her shoulder.

Tarly didn’t trust her. He didn’t know why, since Tauria seemed taken with the dark fae, but something about her unnerved him.

“I’ll do it,” Nik said.

He took one step, and Edith swiped up the box. They all jerked at her sudden brazen movement, tensing with eyes darting around as though the walls would cave in.

Tarly was about to relax until Edith flicked open the box, and only when she pulled the dagger within free did the cave groan.

Then all the light snuffed out.

Nerida pressed into him, and he circled his good arm around her. Nik and Tauria came closer until their backs touched, keeping sights on all angles.

“Edith, what are you doing?” Tauria asked, dread filling her voice.

They could see enough to navigate out, but the pure darkness would slow their reaction time drastically.

An eerie chuckle echoed through the cave. When Edith next spoke, her voice was different. Not as high-pitched an innocent as it once was. Now she spoke with the smooth grace of confidence.

“Oh, Tauria, I knew it would be too easy to play to your kind heart. Seeing a poor little tortured dark fae, you couldn’t help but want to be my savior.”

Tarly’s teeth ground, seething with anger over the exploitation of Tauria’s fair heart.

“Why?” Tauria whispered.

“Because I should be his heir, not her,” she snapped.

Tarly tried to track the dark fae’s silhouette as her voice moved, taunting them.

“Who are you talking about?” Tarly snapped.

“Zaiana,” Nik muttered.

Tarly wasn’t familiar with the name. “Who?”

Nik spoke to Edith. “She’s Mordecai’s daughter, isn’t she? But she doesn’t know. Tauria discovered Mordecai was a Stormcaster.”

“I was the one who showed her that,” Edith hissed. “I hoped she would figure it out and want to kill Zaiana with me. This mission for the dagger could have been a genuine alliance. Until I realized you didn’t know who Zaiana was, and so I have to take this for myself. I do hope you understand.”

“You plan to take her power with it,” Nik concluded.

“Yes. Then he’ll value me, not her.”

“You’re her sister.”

“I don’t care for such terms. I am Mordecai’s daughter—that is all that matters—and I doubt I’m the only other he has. After Zaiana was born a Stormcaster, he tried to conceive another, but she was the only one. She’s always been the only child he values and will give his kingdom to. I trained as hard as she did under the mountain. I am as good as her in every way, and Mordecai saw that enough to appoint me as commander of a legion in his army, but it’s an insult compared to the privileges and value he grants Zaiana.”

“Why has he never told her?” Nik asked, keeping calm.

Tarly was reeling with the revelation of the high lord’s heir. Nik spoke as if he knew Zaiana. Tarly just didn’t know if it was as an enemy or an ally.

“He almost raised her, but Marvellas convinced him she would become better, stronger, more ruthless, without any attachments like everyone else. So Marvellas wiped her memories young, and she grew up like the rest of us. I only found out because my mother told me. She has a position of power. Mordecai listens to her. When she promised him I would rise to the Vesaria name no matter what it took, he let me live. Only if I found this dagger one day to claim Zaiana’s power and her life. That is ruthlessness. That is a worthy heir of Valgard.”

“You have what you want then,” Nik said bitterly. “So let’s all get the Nether out of here.”

“You must think me a fool to risk the tedious journey back to the surface with the four of you ready to turn on me. Besides, I need to discover if this works. If it truly is the Spellthief. I think with either of your abilities, I could get myself to the surface in time.”

Her steps shuffled fast, heading for Tauria first, but water from Nerida’s pouch at her hip slashed through the air. Edith was fast— very fast. And she was small, darting expertly out the way, twisting around Nik’s attempt to swipe her with his sword. Tarly didn’t have any weapon or finesse, only a dominant will to protect Nerida, which had him tackling Edith while she was preoccupied dancing around the other’s attacks.

They went tumbling, and every knock against his bad side threatened his consciousness with the explosions of pain.

Edith growled, pushing off him, and he tried to reach after her, but his movements turned sluggish, and she was too quick to adapt, a masterfully, brutally trained soldier since birth.

None of them were prepared, and all of them were outmatched.

Especially in this darkness, where the cave’s trembles intensified in warning.

He was utterly helpless to stop what came next.

Nerida’s cry shattered his world.

The cave shook violently as if it too outraged at the power stolen. Nerida’s magick transferred into Edith through the plunge of a blade. He felt it. An echo of her pain both physical and within as the threads of her magick were ripped out by vicious phantom claws.

Tarly crawled with his remaining strength to reach where she kneeled, clutching her shoulder.

“Angel,” he said in a panic, pushing himself up on his good arm and pulling her to him as she wept.

“I can collect more than one ability,” Edith marveled, raising her hand and admiring the sense of magick none of them could see.

“Nerida.” Tarly cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes. They poured with tears, and it wasn’t for her bleeding wound.

“She took it all. Both abilities,” Nerida confirmed.

His eyes snapped up to Edith with a rage more potent than he’d ever felt before. The dark fae smiled, wicked and cruel, the dagger in her hand still dripping with Nerida’s blood as her dark eyes targeted Tauria next. Nik pushed her behind him.

“Nightwalking would be fun, but water and air go so well together.”

“You’re not getting any closer to her,” Nik snarled.

Edith’s smile only grew wider.

Though just as she stepped in challenge, the sound of rushing water rumbled through the cave.

“Looks like you’re all out of luck. Drowning really is a terrible way to die,” Edith said before sprinting toward the exit, which had opened.

They were seconds from being slammed by the violent current.

“We need to go,” Nik barked.

Tarly didn’t miss a beat, grabbing Nerida’s hand and sprinting through the second passage as Nik and Tauria did.

Nerida’s cries tore him apart, but he wouldn’t let her die down here.

The water chased them, catching up so fast every breath became precious.

They came to a ladder, scrambling up it. The water crashed into the dead-end wall before surging up past Tarly’s middle. Only having one arm made it more of a struggle to climb, and the rapidly rising water slammed his heart.

At the top, Nik came back to haul him over.

Their rapid steps splashed through the sheet of water growing past their ankles.

They’d made it to another room, but no one took off running again.

Because they were trapped.

Tauria acted fast, creating a wind barrier against the break in the stone. The water level rose quickly against it. Her footing stumbled with the growing pressure, and Nik steadied her.

“I won’t be able to hold this long,” Tauria panted.

“Search for something—anything!” Nik barked the command to Tarly.

He assessed Nerida first, overcome with panic. “You’re losing a lot of blood,” he said.

Nerida sniffed, clutching her wound and pushing past him. “It’s nothing.”

Tarly ran his hand along the walls like she did, searching desperately for some miracle there would be another concealed door.

“It’s hopeless,” Nerida sobbed, giving up her search.

She was never one to give up, and he knew her spirit had withered with the loss of her magick, but he would not let her die.

Tauria faltered for moment, but it was enough for a strong current to rush in, building to their knees. They were rapidly running out of time.

“I’m scared, Nik,” he overhead Tauria say.

Tarly refused to give up. After all the shit they’d been through, this couldn’t be how they all died.

The force of water was winning against Tauria’s reserves of wind magick. The ice climbed to his chest. Nerida was on the tips of her toes, her chin pointing to the roof as she took terrified, calculated breaths.

Tarly growled, searching the unforgiving, merciless walls more frantically.

His hand sliced against a sharp piece of stone, and he hissed, pulling away, but he became distracted by the color of his blood that changed from crimson to silver.

Even more perplexing was when the trace of his blood moved .

He followed the snaking line as it traveled across the wall before dipping under the water that had reached his shoulders now. Tarly took a deep breath, diving under, needing to ignore the shouts of his name.

The silver line drew an arch, and Tarly swam for it, pushing as hard as he could, but all it needed was more blood from his cut palm and the small stone door disappeared , suctioning the water down a passage that was just big enough for them to swim through.

He pushed up for air, finding the water had risen too far for Tauria to keep using her magick, and their heads had to angle against the roof for the last fraction of air.

“There’s a passage just big enough to swim through. I don’t know if it’ll lead us out, but either way, we’ll drown if we stay,” Tarly rushed out, making it over to Nerida and pulling her toward it.

“There was no passage,” she said, terrified.

“There is now—trust me. I’m right behind you.”

He stared into her hazel eyes rimmed red with tears. He loved her. With all his heart, he loved her until the end of the stars.

Tarly had to kiss her. Desperate and short.

“Deep breath for me,” he said calmly.

Nerida sucked in deeply then dove under, and he followed in the same beat.

Squeezing into a passage of the unknown, with his last breath held in his lungs, invoked an acute terror the likes of which he’d never felt before. Swimming was also difficult with one arm, but his will to survive almost kept pace with Nerida, who pushed through brilliantly. The suction helped pull them, and Tarly couldn’t be sure if it was his desperation or real that the current had gotten stronger, drawing them through the passage faster and faster, until…

Tarly flailed when his body was projected hard, fast, and without method to catch himself. As if the tunnel had spat them out. He plunged back into water, and instinct had him franticly kicking for the surface.

His lungs burned with the first breath he drew too fast and sharp. He choked, becoming weaker, but he had to make it. He promised to live for her.

He bobbed back underwater a couple of times, catching a steadier breath each time, until he managed to tread on the surface.

“Nerida!” he called, searching desperately.

“Tarly!” Her echo back to him was the greatest blessing. When he spied her silver hair, they swam to meet each other, and Nerida clamped around him when they did. Their heartbeats slammed against each other.

“I knew how special you are before anyone else saw it,” she said quietly to him.

Tarly’s chest could burst with how much that meant to him.

He saw flickers of movement across the lower waterfall they’d been thrown through, and by the Gods, was he overjoyed to see Nik and Tauria had made it.

They all began swimming for shore, which became an immense test of his strength with the distance. He wasn’t the only one, as when they reached it, they all crawled over the rocky bank, breathless and utterly spent.

The silence that hung while they caught enough breath became dark and desolate.

“We need to dress your wound,” Tarly said, assessing where Edith had stabbed Nerida’s shoulder.

Nerida sat so still as he peeled back the material at her shoulder. She stared vacantly into the lake with her head bowed, the strands of her white hair turned gray and dripping into her lap.

“It’s all gone,” she whispered, the gravity of what the Spellthief had done hitting her anew.

“We’ll get it back,” he said.

Nerida looked at him with such darkness he flinched. “Get it back?” she said, her tone colder than their frozen bodies. “How can you tell me that? There is no getting it back—it’s gone . I feel nothing . I am not a Waterwielder anymore, and worst of all…I’m not a healer either.” Her anger faded, and a plea filled her eyes, reducing her voice to a whisper. “I don’t know who I am if I’m not that.”

Tarly pulled her to him. Her knees tucked tight to her chest, and he held her between his legs. “I know who you are. You’re the best damned healer without ever touching your magick. I’ve seen it time and time again. The way you make medicines and tonics. How you experiment with care in pursuit of advancing medical knowledge. If there’s a way to get your magick back, I will find it, I promise you. But you are so much more than your magick. Your mind is brilliant. You will always be a healer. No one can take that from you.”

“I’m sorry,” Tauria croaked, coming over to them.

Tarly caught sight of Nik gathering firewood with the wolves through the trees. They were all at risk of falling miserably ill with the icy weather against their wet bodies.

“It’s not your fault,” Nerida said.

“She came for me first, and I….I don’t know what happened.”

“I’m glad she didn’t get to you too.”

Tauria harbored guilt for escaping Edith’s wicked scheme. So did Tarly. If Nerida never got her magick back…he would never forgive himself for failing her.

Nik dropped the wood in front of them with a growl of frustration. The wolves kept adding logs to it as Nik tried to light the flame unsuccessfully. He threw the sticks with exasperation, running his hands through his hair. Tauria approached, giving him an affirming touch before resuming his work. His hand ran along her back while he lost himself to his thoughts.

“What’s our plan now?” Tarly asked, trying to warm Nerida absentmindedly with his hand and his body.

“Go back to High Farrow with nothing,” Nik said bitterly. He swore, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Maybe the others have something of triumph,” Tarly suggested.

Nik looked up with the darkest glare. “Are you kidding? Faythe’s best friend was murdered. Another good friend is Transitioned into dark fae and likely doesn’t even remember any of them. We are all losing this war.”

“Nik,” Tauria said—a gentle warning at his rising temper.

It worked to ground him, and he bowed his head in defeat.

But Nik was right.

Tarly looked up at that bleak night sky, thick with clouds smothering the stars. It became difficult to retain their hope against all that was beating them down.

“We’re alive,” Tarly said after a long stretch of silence. Tauria got the fire going, and they all huddled close to it. “There’s been many, many times we shouldn’t be, but we’re still here. That has to count for something. Nothing is over yet. We can’t let out setbacks make it the end because we lost our hope and fight. That is the only way they win before they’ve even killed us.”

“Tarly’s right,” Tauria agreed. “We have their numbers, and we know where they plan to deploy their legions. The best we can do right now is get back to High Farrow and prepare for the battles that are about to be upon us.”

They settled, getting warmer, and luckily, Edith hadn’t made off with their things. Tarly retrieved Nerida’s satchel, opening her pouch of herbs and medicines. Nerida removed her top layers, and Tarly adjusted his position, keeping his dry cloak he’d left behind partially covering her, but the proximity of another male riled an irrational irritation in him.

“You haven’t asked me for instruction once,” Nerida mused, drinking the pain-relieving tonic he offered. There was a brokenness in her voice that she hid under a smile, so damn resilient despite the monumental loss she’d suffered today.

“I learned from the best,” he said, kissing her cheek before applying a salve he’d mixed together. Tarly paused with his fingers on her skin. “I want to learn more about the healing magick I have…when you’re ready, of course. I shouldn’t have mentioned it now?—”

Her hand closed over his, and he believed her genuine smile. “I’m glad. It might actually help me deal with the absence of mine if I can help you reach yours.”

“Are you sure? It can wait?—”

Nerida leaned in to press her lips to his. “You’re not so sullen anymore, Sully.”

He shuffled closer, tucking them together, and pressed his lips to her shoulder. “I was only so because I was waiting for you. You saved me, Nerida.”

“I haven’t yet,” she said quietly, skimming her fingers over his graying skin.

Tarly shook his head. “I’ve lived countless days, but they’re worth nothing compared to the fraction filled with the feelings only you gave me.”

Their futures were shrouded in the uncertainty of war, which left only the present to march on for. They were alive, and what they had, which Marvella nor Mordecai nor Dakodas ever would…was the true and unbreakable strength of blood and chosen family.