Page 76 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

Reylan

R eylan marched through the halls, irritated with himself that he’d been so focused on his duty he hadn’t noticed Faythe slipping out. The thought of any of them wandering alone right now made him antsy.

A phantom lashing of pain within pushed Reylan into a sprint.

He followed the instinctual trace of her through their bond, entering the library. The destruction he found surged his urgency. He yelled her name, darting frantically through the piles of books and broken cases to find her. She was here—he could feel her.

Reylan became frantic in his search, catching the scent of her blood.

Then he saw her. A beautiful devastation as she lay among wreckage.

He lifted her into his arms, but she was out cold. Still breathing steadily, to his relief. Reylan scanned around for what she could have battled to have caused this destruction, but he sensed nothing else here with them.

As he began to make his way out of the library with her to seek a healer, Faythe stirred.

“It was…” Her words were heavy, with her consciousness returning fleetingly. “We have to stop her.”

“Stop who?”

Her golden eyes fluttered open, lost in her recollection of what had happened. Fear struck him to see the emotions play out on her face.

“Marvellas is here,” she said with terror.

Reylan stiffened. “She left you?”

They’d believed Marvellas’s two main objectives when she came would be to secure Faythe and her ruin. So the fact she’d faced Faythe, fought her, and left her, riddled him with dread.

Faythe’s eyes cast up to him, and she tried to move but cried in pain.

“Keep still,” he said gently, holding her tighter and leaving the library.

He had to inform the others Marvellas was within their walls.

“She’s going for the Light Ruin. Reylan…she knows where it is from my thoughts, but we can’t let her get it. She has a plan far more detrimental than any of us thought.”

Faythe’s breath was labored, and her head fell back. Reylan’s concern raced faster. Her body had some cuts and bruises, no broken bones. She shouldn’t be in this much pain. Reylan had to stop, setting her down on the floor with her back to the wall. He kneeled, holding her head from falling, and scanned her face. Her eyes drifted to his, lazy and unfocused. A concussion? No—something more serious. Marvellas had broken through Faythe’s otherwise impenetrable mental walls, and she was suffering what would be like tenfold of a concussion.

They needed a healer—fast. And she would need rest.

“Stay with me, Phoenix,” he said, scooping her up again.

“I have to stop her.”

“The others will. You’ve done your part.”

“I let her get away…”

“You bought us time.”

Reylan made it back to the reception room the others were last in. Nik, Tauria, Nerida, Jakon, Tarly, and Nyte were still here.

His anger flashed at the sight of Marvellas’s son.

“What happened?” Nik demanded.

Reylan lay Faythe gently on the chaise, sweeping back her hair as her eyes struggled to remain open. Nerida immediately assessed Faythe, even though she had no magick, she instructed to be brought her medicines and Nik called for a guard to fetch another healer.

With her in safe hands, his distrust and anger over Faythe’s condition got the better of him. Reylan moved fast and sudden, gabbing Nyte by his clothing and slamming him to the wall.

“Marvellas is in the castle. She’s heading for the ruin,” Reylan informed the others. He kept his eyes piercing into Nyte, his accusation not subtle.

Nyte said, calm but warning, “Remove your hands from me before you find yourself without them.”

Reylan held on a little longer, testing their battle of dominance. He’d be a fool to underestimate what Nyte was capable of, even without his own body.

He released him roughly, pacing back to Faythe.

Nyte said bitterly, “Honestly, I couldn’t care less about any of you. I would have left if my way home was sure, because frankly, aiding people who continue to doubt me is pissing me off.”

“You’re the son of the person who began this war. You appeared out of nowhere, only half here at that. You can’t expect us to trust you,” Reylan seethed.

“The irony is…your distrust is what risks making a greater enemy out of me. So make your choice, because the next one to question me turns my wrath on all of you. Perhaps my unfinished business is not to help you but to make sure you fall. And make no mistake, I would have no hesitation in doing so.”

“You only prove why we should keep our guards up,” Tarly said.

Nyte shrugged, reiterating, “It is your choice.”

“I trust you,” Tauria said. When she met the wary stare of Nik, she added, “We are not our parents. From what we’ve heard, what he’s done for us so far, we owe him this trust.”

“I agree,” Nerida said. “I don’t think we would have made it out of Lakelaria without his help. I trust him.”

“Good,” Nyte said. “Be glad you have the sharper sense of your mates to guide you.”

He crossed to Jakon in a few quick strides, and everyone tensed. Nyte paused, casting a flat look over them all for the reaction contrary to Tauria and Nerida’s words. Nyte swiped the dagger from Jakon, who protested.

Nyte used it as a pointer as he spoke. “Did you plan to pass this around yourselves until the unfortunate soul last holding it in front of Marvellas was the one to sacrifice their life?” No one answered. They hadn’t addressed that dire fact. “Luckily for all of you, I’m here. Without a body that’s mine, and with someone who can transfer a consciousness.” His eyes fell to Faythe with that. She was hardly present in the conversation, but her brow twitched, seeming to understand what Nyte spoke of.

“So you’re going to kill your mother?” Nik hedged.

“When Faythe is in full health to make sure my mind doesn’t die with this body, yes. Right before the body dies from the power, if we have another vessel, Faythe should be able to transfer me into it.”

Maybe Reylan was feeling an inkling of guilt for how he’d treated Nyte, given he might turn out to be their savior, but he wasn’t going to give him full merit yet.

“It’s brilliant,” Nerida said with wonder.

“We need to stop Marvellas retrieving the Light Ruin from the Dresair,” Nik urged.

“I’m going with you,” Tauria said.

Reylan knew all too well the conflict that passed over Nik’s face: knowing she was capable and her magick was invaluable, but fearing to be with her in the face of great danger. The king nodded at his mate.

“I can still wield a blade,” Nerida said. “You’ll need all the help you can get.”

“I’m not much use, but the wolves are,” Tarly said.

Just then, the two white beasts entered the room as if they could manifest from Tarly’s mere thoughts.

“You don’t have time to debate. The more people against her, the better. It’s pressure and distraction. Don’t let her leave with that ruin,” Reylan ordered.

The group didn’t falter, and all he could do was pray for their safety. Nyte left with them, though he wouldn’t risk trying to kill Marvellas with the ruin while Faythe wasn’t there. All they needed was to make sure the Spirit never got her hands on the ruin to be able to take it to Dakodas’s temple in the Fire Mountains.

He instructed a guard to seek any healer within the castle while he sat with Faythe. Reylan didn’t like being helpless and idle while his comrades were in action, but Faythe was his highest priority while she was vulnerable.

He looked over his mate, and it helped to soothe his sharp emotions punishing him for being too late to help her.

Jakon sat by the wall. Occasionally, his eyes would flick over Faythe, and Reylan wanted to believe her friend still cared deeply for her with his twitches of concern.

“You don’t have any idea why Marlowe would leave instruction to craft the ruin into a blade?” Reylan gently tried.

Jakon shrugged. It was clear only the shell of the man sat here without his wife.

“Makes the killing blow easier, I guess.”

Reylan stroked Faythe’s thigh absentmindedly, selfishly needing to ease his own anxiety at the thought of being here without her. He couldn’t fathom Jakon’s grief.

“I can’t express how sorry I am?—”

“Yeah.” Jakon cut him off.

Reylan didn’t take any offense to the brush-off. His condolence meant nothing.

“She still needs you. You know that, right?” Reylan said.

Jakon’s hollow gaze lifted to Faythe again. “‘Need’ isn’t the right word. She thinks she owes me something. I’m her guilty conscience.”

“You’re wrong.”

Jakon’s expression turned sour. “You might be her mate and all, but I’ve known her longer.”

Reylan didn’t argue that fact. His soul had entwined with Faythe’s centuries ago, but Jakon was right. In this life, he did have the blessing of knowing her far longer.

“War is too unpredictable to push away those you love.”

“Exactly. Unpredictable. One day you’re kissing your wife good night with a promising tomorrow. Then that tomorrow comes to snap her neck right in front of your eyes.”

Reylan’s jaw clenched to that brutal truth. He hadn’t had the time to get to know Faythe’s dearest friend well, but for what he meant to her, for all he’d done for her, Reylan harbored pain and grief for Jakon’s suffering as though they were good friends themselves. He hoped they would be in time.

“You can’t bury Faythe before she’s even dead,” Reylan said.

“Maybe I’m burying myself.” He looked at the ground, the confession leaving him like it hadn’t meant to slip out of his thoughts.

Reylan said, “So long as we’re around, we’re not going to let that happen.”