Page 70 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Reylan
W hen everyone left the drawing room, Reylan stayed. So did Izaiah, who leaned one hand on the mantle of the fireplace, watching the flames ripple, and Kyleer, who sat at the edge of the table.
The gravity of Kyleer’s lost memories weight heavy on them all.
“Nik and Faythe are going to try their best through Nightwalking to try to find my memories.” Kyleer broke the silence. “If they can’t, at least they can show me things. Memories with them and things they know of me. Though I can’t deny, it feels strange to have to trust people I don’t even remember at all.”
Izaiah straightened, turning to his brother. Reylan watched him warily with the anger he presented.
“I’m your little brother. We went through the Nether with shitty parents and abandonment—the least you could do is remember me.”
“I want to.”
“Then try harder.”
“Take it easy, Izaiah,” Reylan warned.
“Can I ask something?” Kyleer hedged.
Reylan perched on the edge of the table. “Of course.”
“Zaiana keeps pushing me away, adamant that if I had my memories, I wouldn’t want her like I do now. I can’t explain it. If you’re my brothers, I’m assuming you’d know me and what happened better than anyone. So…would I have forgiven her had I been given the chance? Can I trust her?”
Reylan and Izaiah exchanged a look that spoke of their mutual reluctance over the truth, but they couldn’t lie to him.
“You would have forgiven her,” Izaiah said. “What she did was wicked, and I don’t forgive her myself, but what you had with her was real, and I believe she did regret betraying you eventually.”
Reylan said, “I hate to agree. She doesn’t make it easy to get along with her, but you understand each other in a way I’ve never seen in you with anyone.”
Kyleer absorbed that information, and it was pain to watch him in so much confusion and turmoil.
“How are the wings?” Izaiah asked, breaking the heaviness.
The feathered wings towering over Kyleer’s shoulders were as bewildering as they were fascinating. None of them knew if the obscure manifestation held any significance. Kyleer still bled crimson, and his eyes hadn’t lost their moss-green color. It was a relief but an anomaly he hoped wasn’t an omen for something bad to come.
“I’m getting used to them,” Kyleer said, making them flex subconsciously.
“I’m kind of jealous,” Izaiah said.
“You can Shapeshift and fly in any form you want,” Reylan pointed out.
“That’s not the same. Kyleer gets to look more intimidating than ever.”
Making light of the situation helped to ease them into their new reality. They wouldn’t stop trying to get Kyleer’s memories back, and when they did return, nothing would be changed.
Reylan had another heavy weight of sorrow lingering in his mind. He debating waiting until Kyleer had his memories, but they didn’t know when that might be.
“We’ve not had the chance to grieve for our king,” Reylan said quietly. “Agalhor…who was more than that to all of us.”
Izaiah swore, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need warning before you tear off my shitty bandages on that wound.”
Reylan moved toward Izaiah, placing a hand on his shoulder as they reflected on their fallen king and father figure. “I know we still don’t have time to honor him properly, but we will. In his name we charge forward in this war. We claim back Rhyenelle with his daughter and heir. He gave us the lives we live today, and I won’t ever forget that.”
Izaiah dropped his hand, and they embraced, passing their promise and their sorrow. Kyleer stood, uncertain of where to place himself. Izaiah, bold as he was, let go of Reylan and pulled his brother into him anyway. Kyleer’s stiffness eased after a moment, and he relaxed.
“We need to get all our messages to the generals out now. Then begin repositioning the armadas,” Reylan said, slipping into his general persona.
He didn’t like the threat of war and battle—it always meant brave and innocent lives would be lost—but this was what he was good at. Leading, predicting, and strategizing in the face of high threat and pressure.
Faythe had only been gone from him for a little over an hour by the time he’d finished making early plans and sent messengers, but with their newly forged mating bond, every minute away from her unsettled him until he could hardly stand it.
Dusk was falling, and he planned to steal her away for the night regardless of the protest he predicted she’d have, always one to sacrifice her time for others. He had to be her balance. After all she’d been through, and with what was coming, the best he could offer her were moments to forget and feel loved with him.
After trying a few places he believed she might be and turning up lonely, Reylan used their bond, his new favorite link that could reach her no matter how far, so long as she didn’t close off on her end.
“I’m all for finding you, but when I do, I’m claiming a prize. ”
The moment he felt it took more strain than it should to reach her mind, his steps came to a halt mid-hallway.
Before she could respond, he added, voice turning serious, “Where have you run off to?”
The moment it took for her to reply flexed his fists at his sides.
“It’s probably best you wait until I’m back for that answer.”
She was going to be the death of him.
“I would have come with you.”
“It can’t wait. I’ll be back with you soon, and I’ll make it up to you.”
The devious thing caressed his senses with desire. Though his concern had him on edge, he trusted her, and most of all, he believed in her.
“Then just tell me you’re not alone.”
“I’m not.”
That she didn’t inform who her company was made him assume the worst. Once he decided it had to be Zaiana, he knew then they could have only gone one place.
The Mortus Mountains.
“I’m going to have my way with you the moment you get back,” he said, needing to back down from one of many risky tasks they might need to be separated for.
“I’m counting on it, General.”
He internally groaned. She knew what that title in her sultry little voice did to him.
Needing to busy himself or he’d risk going after her anyway, Reylan found the one person he distrusted most of all. Rainyte Ashfyre was an incredulous person to have shown up during their moment of peril. Reylan didn’t like him regardless of the help he’d offered so far.
“Running home, are you?” Reylan called at his back when he found him wandering the halls.
“Sounds like you care if I stay,” Nyte drawled, turning to him smoothly.
Now he knew he was Marvellas’s son, Reylan couldn’t help but notice the uncanny mannerisms they shared sometimes.
“I would rather you didn’t.”
“Then have you come to escort me to the mirrors?”
Reylan’s jaw heightened. Nyte served no use to them here. If anything, Reylan could only see him as a potential threat if he decided to join his mother’s cause. It was clear his allegiance wasn’t with them nor anyone. He was a liability.
“Gladly,” Reylan said, passing him to lead the way toward the library.
He didn’t particularly enjoy venturing back down into the passages under High Farrow’s library. Nik had already informed him he’d ordered the Magestone that had once lined the corridor toward the room of mirrors to be carefully mined. He had various blacksmiths working on turning it into as many weapons as possible to be used in their war.
When their reflections were cast back to them from a hundred angles, Reylan sharpened his caution for the trickster of a creature that could taunt them at any moment.
“This is it then?” Nyte asked, standing casually with his hands in his pockets.
“I thought you’d be more enthused.”
“I’ve learned not to get hopeful of the words of others. I’d be none the wiser if you’d led me down here as a trap and these are nothing but ordinary mirrors.”
“Then why did you follow so easily if you distrust me so?”
“Because I do not fear you.”
Reylan gave nothing away. Reacting in offense served for nothing. It might even prove why he shouldn’t be feared. Instead Reylan leveled Nyte with his cool demeanor.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” he said, beginning to turn.
“Has Faythe told you she’ll die too if she kills my mother with her ruin?”
Reylan stiffened, sliding a warning glare at Nyte.
Nyte added, “Well, anyone who does will die, but in the short time I’ve gotten to know her heroic qualities, I would wager she planned to keep that secret to make the sacrifice herself.”
“Why would you tell me this?”
“A parting gift, if you will. Believe it or not, the only reason I won’t stay a moment longer than I have to in this realm is because I too have a mate to return to. Had she the same foolish idea, I’d want to know and make sure she was the farthest person away from plunging that ruin into the heart of a Goddess and going down with them.”
Reylan might not trust him, but he believed him. As it was exactly the type of thing Faythe would do.
Gods , he loved her. And she drove him to madness. She may not be willing to be selfish, but he could be. He would not lose her, and she would not lose him.
As he left Nyte, not staying to see what taunts and riddles the Dresair would humor him with before taking him through, Reylan was beholden to the insight. For if this war was won at the cost of his Phoenix, Reylan would start a new one in his grief.