Page 66 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Zaiana

Z aiana followed the King of High Farrow, who walked alone after his mate had excused herself elsewhere. Nikalias surely knew she was following him, but he kept a casual pace, with one hand in his pocket.

When they were away from lingering ears, Zaiana called, “It was you in my mind all that time.”

He stopped, turning to her with strange amusement. “When did you figure it out?”

“Just now. Your mannerisms are subtle but quite particular.”

“You’re very perceptive.”

“Why have you been Nightwalking to me?”

“Like I’ve always said, I find you curious, and I like a challenge.”

“I was a game to you.”

“No. Games are fun. Trying to train your mind left a headache in mine.”

“Then why keep coming back?”

“The truth? Faythe believed you were important. When she spoke of you, I became fascinated and planned to only Nightwalk to you once. Discovering you were also a Nightwalker—a very weak one, but it’s there—had me very intrigued.”

Zaiana’s teeth ground together, not liking how it felt like she were his subject to scrutinize. “Did you sate your curiosity? ”

“Not nearly. You should know Tauria discovered something while she was in Valgard. Mordecai’s sister was a powerful Nightwalker—explains your weak essence since Stormcasting took a far more prominent root in you. Tauria also learned that through a long-diluted bloodline, my mother also can be traced back to Mordecai’s sister. Magick is its own meddling force, awakening her power as strongly in me all this time later.”

Zaiana’s thoughts spun with the new information. It didn’t mean much other than a sense of closure and clarity. She’d always convinced herself she didn’t need to know anything about her bloodline or heritage, but she couldn’t deny it settled something in her to discover more of her roots.

“If you think this somehow makes us related , you’re very wrong,” she said.

Nikalias huffed a laugh. “Would that really be so terrible to embrace?”

“It means nothing.”

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think his eyes drifting away for a split second was a wince of rejection.

“I don’t have any blood family left. I’ve never had a sibling.” He looked her over from head to toe and smiled. Genuine, warm, and jarring. “You wouldn’t have made such a bad one, I suppose.”

Nik turned on his heel, leaving her in the hallway.

She was rooted, replaying his last words, trying to figure out if he was being sarcastic. Why would he say such an outlandish thing?

Zaiana decided she wasn’t done with him and stormed the same way when he disappeared around a bend.

“In my experience, siblings only inspire jealousy and want you dead.”

Nik turned back with a grin. “Your experience is very limited, having only just discovered you have a viciously jealous sister out for your power.”

The reminder itched her skin to seek out Edith.

“I got my power back without you,” Zaiana said.

Nik canted his head slightly. “Things can catalyst into others in the most subtle ways.”

“Don’t visit me in my dreams again.”

“I might have made the first contact, but it was often you who called me back, even when you didn’t realize it.”

Zaiana’s mouth opened to counter, but Nik went on before she could.

“Seeking help isn’t a weakness. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.”

“Why did you help me?” she asked. “At that time, I was still the enemy.”

“If I’d thought you the enemy, I would have shattered your mind that first night. It would have been so easy—you were completely at my mercy.”

The tip of Zaiana’s spine tingled. Even though it was a while ago, the realization of how silently and dishonorably she could have been killed that night racked her.

“I managed to throw Agalhor out of my mind before he killed me,” she said.

“I can’t speak for what happened between you. But I have no doubt you could have tried to throw me out and would have lost.”

She wanted to shatter his confidence. Prove him wrong. But she stared into those unblinking emerald eyes and believed him.

“Can you teach me how to strengthen my mind? Against conscious and unconscious infiltration?”

Nik’s cold eyes filled with warmth. “Look at you, reaching out a hand. It would be my pleasure, Zaiana. If you ask Faythe, she should tell you how excellent of a mentor I am.”

She was already beginning to regret her request with his devious aura.

“Speaking of, good luck training her with the ruin. Faythe is very persistent but often gets ahead of herself with impatience.”

Just great , Zaiana thought. She’d trained many darklings in her life—she was a master of patience—but Zaiana was prepared for Faythe to test her worse that any child.

Nik turned away, and she thought he was about to abandon her until he called over his shoulder, “I find it best to train the mind while the body is at work.”

She quite admired High Farrow’s training arena under the castle. It had every weapon she could hope to find, several raised platforms for combat, and space enough to train a whole squad at once. It was far more fanciful than the pit or mountain fringe she’d had to train in growing up.

“This was a terrible idea. You’re hardly in league with me,” Zaiana said, holding her sword with little enthusiasm.

Nik leaned on the Farrow Sword—an impressive blade indeed. “You haven’t even seen me fight.”

“I don’t need to. Trained in combat since birth, maybe, but against palace guards who couldn’t really give their all against their precious princeling. Probably let you win to spare your feelings too. You don’t know what it’s like to truly fear for your life even in a friendly competition.”

“I’ll admit there might be some truth there, but still, you might be surprised.”

Zaiana smirked. If anything, this would provide some amusing distraction for a while.

“No lightning,” he warned.

“That would be no fun. You’d be on your ass in a second.”

His green sparkled with the challenge. It wasn’t often Zaiana sparred for entertainment. She had to remember this was just a game, but that didn’t mean she would go easy on him.

Nik took stance: a dip to his knees, shoulder-width apart. His wrist twisted with his blade, warming up to the weight of it. His eyes homed in on her.

Zaiana shifted one leg back a fraction and folded one arm behind her back.

Nik’s smile stretched at her arrogant position.

“If you think I won’t scratch your pretty face, you’re mistaken,” he said.

“You can try.”

He moved first, and she waited for it. Zaiana sidestepped with practiced ease and swung her blade in a low arc toward his ribs. Nik pivoted sharply, avoiding her strike by mere inches. He retaliated with a feign to her left, which she played into, knowing he would take the opening of her right. As his sword hand swung, her body bent, right leg kicking high and slamming into his wrist.

The Farrow Sword clanged loudly across the platform.

“Your footwork tricks are amateur,” she said lazily.

Nik rubbed his wrist with a contorted expression of pain and surprise. He retrieved his sword, rolling that wrist a couple of times. He angled his blade toward her with more reverence this time.

“Now it’s my time to have fun.”

She didn’t get to respond to that when he darted for her in his next breath.

Zaiana twisted, kissing their steel for a long note that sang through the motion of her arm.

“Predictable,” she said, bored.

This time, Zaiana charged, her blade moving in quick, precise patterns. Nik had a great focus, countering every attack, but she was relentless. Zaiana fell into a familiar acute and lethal calm that had her moving faster and faster on instinct. The room didn’t exist—Nik himself barely existed—when all she knew was one long blade to avoid and a body to cut down.

Zaiana saw her opening to end it with a kick to his torso. She should have landed the kick, but Nik avoided it a split second before, catching her ankle before her foot would have knocked the wind out of him hard enough to fell him to his knees.

Her eyes snapped to his with incredulity. Nik yanked her ankle, believing it would crash her to the ground, but Zaiana wasn’t giving up that easily.

She caught herself on her hands and turned her body in a back flip. She landed on one foot, immediately swiping her sword horizontal, but he jumped over it. She growled in annoyance. He shouldn’t have avoided that either.

Then it hit her—Nik was reading her thoughts. Seeing her next move a second before she made it. Though she’d asked him to train her to block it, the cheat still riled her.

Knowing what he was doing, Zaiana tried to trick him with her intention, but he read her real one right after it, parrying against her attacks no matter how many times she changed her mind. That wouldn’t work. She had to block him.

“It can work.” Nik answered her unspoken thoughts.

Her teeth ground.

“You can work out how to send a trick thought then block me from seeing your next.”

“You’re not showing me how ,” she grunted, hitting his blade again and again in their dance around the ring.

“It’s mostly going to happen in practice. You learned how to master a ruin —you have great control of your own mind already.”

Nik stopped the fight by taking two long strides backward.

“Again,” Zaiana demanded.

Nik huffed. “I’m afraid my teaching hour is over, and yours has just begun.”

Zaiana frowned in confusion. Then she felt the new presence enter the training hall.

Faythe Ashfyre strolled in, dressed in Rhyenelle fighting attire and carrying one of the wretched ruins in a box.

Nik sheathed his sword, stepping down from the platform.

“I thought you’d insist on chaperoning,” Faythe mused as he passed.

“Do try not to kill each other. I would stay, but I have far better things I could be doing. Precious time, impending war and all that.”

Zaiana assumed that meant going to see his mate.

“I’m going to supervise.” Nerida’s gentle voice echoed behind Faythe.

She was one of the very few people Zaiana actually enjoyed seeing. Except finding out what had happened to the healer, her wrath swirled like priming shadows. Being blood-related to the one who’d stripped her of her power made her anger boil more. Nerida’s power was good ; she was good . It was so wretched to be stolen into a wicked vessel.

“We’re going to be fine,” Faythe said, but their eyes caught on each other, knowing that couldn’t be promised since they would be unleashing a colossal power and had a natural ability to provoke each other.

“This might be better tested outside,” Zaiana warned.

Nerida came up with Faythe. She said, “You’re not going to tap into the full power anytime soon. Faythe has a lot to learn about breathing, patience, and control. I’m here to help with that too. Waterwielding is the core element for it, opposite to all that comes naturally to Faythe.”

“So we’re schooling a hotheaded child,” Zaiana gibed.

Faythe glowered at her. “I haven’t had centuries to master all things,” she said flatly.

Zaiana often forgot about Faythe’s mere fraction of years in comparison. Faythe had much to learn, but in truth, Zaiana was in awe over the control the heir did have in such short time.

“The ruin is going to convince you you’re dying over and over again. It doesn’t want a master—it wants to master you . You let it in Rhyenelle, and if it weren’t for Reylan—his Mindseer ability and your bond—you likely would have been lost as a vessel to it forever.”

Faythe visibly paled and shifted her weight between her feet. “I didn’t mean to. Until that point, I was able to open myself to small doses of the power, then Atherius died…there were so many shadow creatures killing through the city, and I… gave in .”

“You gave up, ” Zaiana said. Harsh, maybe, but in her experience, it was the only way to drill the lesson deeply. She crossed her arms, pacing around Faythe. “Letting anger consume you, being reckless—that’s easy. Control, remembering you have people counting on you to make it out alive despite your grief—that’s what takes strength.”

Faythe nodded, attentive to her words. Zaiana thought maybe this wouldn’t be so tedious after all. Maybe their lessons would be amicable.