Page 80 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

Tarly

B y now, Tarly and Nerida were masterful at stealth and remaining inconspicuous. For the second time, Tarly had infiltrated his own kingdom while it was crawling with dark fae. There’d been a shift in the kingdom since they were last here. Lines of soldiers marched through the streets, preparing to join the forces Reylan predicted would move in great numbers through Olmstone and pressure High Farrow through the mountain fringe that bordered their kingdoms.

Tarly couldn’t concern himself with that daunting battle to come. His focus was on retrieving Nik and Tauria.

Nerida led the way as they approached the Livre des Verres, slipping inside. The place was unguarded while the focus was on the war, and the abandoned wreck the library had been left to would never fail to inspire such sorrow in him.

He didn’t waste time on reflecting, darting down to the ground level after they climbed in through a window. The room they needed inside was locked, and Tarly used his foot to try to break the door in.

“Waterwielding would be very handy about now,” Nerida grumbled, searching for something to help.

She returned with a large rock.

“That’s not going to break through?—”

With a cry, Nerida’s arm pulled back before she slammed the rock against the handle, which broke right off. The door groaned as it casually slipped open.

Nerida smiled at him in satisfaction, and he chuckled as he followed her in. His mate was absolutely stunning in all things she did.

The room was dark, and he coughed on the thick musk of neglect when he inhaled. The only light pooled in from behind them, but it reflected off exactly what they were looking for.

“I really hope I was right,” Tarly mumbled, approaching the mirror that already pricked his skin with a sense of peculiar magick.

“Me too, but I’m also frightened.”

Nerida was rummaging through things, and he was about to question it when she beamed, producing a lasso of rope.

“What if it doesn’t let us inside?”

“The Dresair is a creature of tricks and bargains. We might have some negotiation to do.” She slung the rope around her middle, but Tarly took her wrist before she could tie it around herself.

“I’ll go inside. Please.” He couldn’t bear the thought of her facing what was within there alone, and one of them had to stay here to pull the other out.

“You’re injured.”

“You don’t have your magick.”

In truth, neither of them stood great odds of fighting in there, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“Like you said, the Dresairs are creatures of tricks and riddles. I don’t think they’ll attack.”

Before Nerida could answer, a new, chilling voice echoed through the room.

“So much debate. So much wasted time while your friends lose their minds day by day within the void.”

Tarly curved an arm around Nerida, and when they focused on their reflection, Tarly wasn’t holding Nerida like he was now.

“Will you let me pass?” Tarly asked.

The Dresair could wear many faces, but the smile of one was always the same. Thrilled and primed with mockery.

“You might lose your mind too. You might never return at all.”

“I’ll take the chance.”

“You are dying, Tarly Wolverlon. You have lived beyond the days that bite should have left you with thanks to the healing magick that lays dormant within you…and because of her.” The Dresair crossed to stand in front of Nerida. “The mate who almost never was, because of a meddling Spirit.”

Tarly stilled. “What do you know about me having two mates?”

“That it is impossible. Souls have always been two halves searching for each other through eternity. There are many names for the bond when they meet across many universes.”

“But I have two… there was another before Nerida,” Tarly prompted, getting desperate for the information that he’d thought he was content not to know.

“I will offer you the answer you seek or passage through this mirror. Which will it be?”

His jaw worked. It wasn’t even a question of which he would choose. “Let me pass.”

The Dresair smiled again. “I want that.” It pointed to Nerida’s chest. Her hand rose to his mother’s pendant there from the Healers Academy on Lakelaria. Nerida cast sad hazel eyes to him.

“We need to find our friends,” he said gently, helping her remove the necklace.

The Dresair said, “Every time a healer uses their magick while wearing it, a piece of their magick embeds itself inside. It is how it knows when to change color to determine the strength of the healer.”

Tarly paused with it in his grip, uncertain now. “What can someone else do with it?” he asked.

The Dresair tilted a playful downward look at him, declining to answer.

Tarly glanced at Nerida, as it was an essence of her magick they were giving away. She answered with a nod and an assuring smile.

He threw it toward the mirror, which rippled like liquid metal as it passed through. The Dresair caught it, pocketing the necklace.

“Very well, Tarly Wolverlon.” It held out a hand, inviting him through.

Tarly turned to Nerida with his back to the mirror. He slipped his palm along her cheek and kissed her deeply.

“I love you. I’ll be right back,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Nerida tied the rope around his waist, securing it tightly. “You’d better be,” she said, but her playful words were lost to her fearful eyes. “I love you, Sully.”

Pushing his hand through the mirror was like dipping into ice water. His skin burned, but the energy within the mirror started pulling him through, and he let it.

Just before he did, the Dresair slithered one last taunt into his ear.

“Though you might just be too late to save them both.”

His body jerked as though he’d fallen into a suction void, and his limbs flailed, trying to find something to hold onto before he drifted beyond the rope’s limit.

It was the rope that saved him even though it winded him to be yanked to an abrupt halt. Then he was falling, unable to maneuver while there was no wall or celling or floor to brace for in this endless white void.

He slammed into the ground on his bad side, which threatened his consciousness for a minute. Tarly took a moment to breathe through the shooting pain that slowly numbed to a dull throbbing over the right side of his chest.

Damn inconvenient arm.

When he no longer felt at risk of passing out, he stood and wondered how in the Nether he was to find Nik and Tauria when all he saw was white. An endless white void.

But he was determined to find them, so Tarly pressed forward, hoping something would guide him along the way.