Page 82 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

Tarly

“ T ARLY!”

The pure devastation in Nik’s yell severed the focus Tarly was gathering, frantically trying to follow Nerida’s guidance to summon the healer’s magick within him.

“I can’t reach it,” he panted, wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve.

“Yes, you can, Tarly! I know you can,” Nerida said, but her tone was equally as panicked.

Tauria wasn’t breathing.

A clink drew his eyes to Tauria’s hand as it fell limp, releasing what she’d held in a tight grip. Tarly’s pulse skipped, swiping the vial before it rolled too far.

He held it up. “She didn’t drink it,” he muttered in disbelief.

The Phoenix Blood swirled with an iridescent sheen within the bottle, and Tarly was transfixed.

You’ll know what to do with it.

Oh, Marlowe…oh, brilliant, spectacular, heroic Marlowe.

She hadn’t given it to him to heal himself, nor for Tauria to reach the cave, as she’d held onto it instead. It had to be for now—the powerful aid he prayed to the forsaken Gods would work to reach his healing magick.

Tarly uncorked the bottle and threw the contents down his throat.

His heart pounded, too aware of every second that slipped by with Tauria’s life hanging in the balance. Nothing felt different…until…

The hand he held on Tauria tingled.

“Tell me again,” he demanded of Nerida.

She told him what to reach for it within himself, how healing was like the union of air and water—fluid yet vital. He felt the well within him begin to open, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more—so much more—to conquer this impossible task

“I’m going to remove the blade. Keep pushing all you can into that wound to stop the bleeding and start knitting the skin,” Nerida said.

She was such a calm and brilliant teacher despite their collective grief and urgency.

“Her heart…” Nik croaked, holding her head to his chest.

Tarly had to shut out Nik’s soul-tearing cries.

“There are a few moments in which the body shuts down but a life force can still be felt within. How long varies per person. You have to keep sealing the wound, but I need you to divide your magick and search for the thread of her life,” Nerida instructed.

She pulled the blade out slowly, and Tarly gritted his teeth. The flow of her blood broke out again just as he felt like he was getting it under control. It was like holding a sphere of water and trying to seal the cracks that split too fast.

He couldn’t let Tauria die.

“I killed her,” Nik whispered, absolutely haunted.

“Keep yourself together,” Tarly snapped. Nik was threatening his focus.

“You have to find her life thread,” Nerida urged.

Tarly gritted his teeth. His whole body trembled and slicked. His first test of magick was far beyond what he should be capable of thanks to the Phoenix Blood. If there was consequence…he didn’t care. Saving Tauria was worth anything. He pushed into the well of magick deeper with a pained cry.

“You’re doing incredible,” Nerida said, placing her hand over his in comfort.

It helped. Having Nerida there, he could pretend it was both of them working magick within Tauria. He wasn’t alone with her life in his hands.

Tarly closed his eyes and focused on finding the thread. He saw darkness and many threads, but they were all gray and snapped, floating within an empty space.

“The life thread is silver,” Nerida said gently into his ear. “It will be severed too, but if you can reach it, there’s a chance to reattach it, and the rest will follow.”

Tarly pushed himself through the decaying web of Tauria’s life. When the first flicker of anything bright caught his eye, he surged for it.

“I-I think I found it,” he said. Then he frowned when he reached it. “It’s gold.”

Nerida gasped. “The mating thread.”

She stood suddenly, and Tarly gripped hold of the golden thread before he risked slipping his eyes open to see what she was doing. Nerida cut Nik’s palm without asking and placed it over the wound.

Tarly jerked at the rush of energy that attacked him.

“Hold on, Tarly,” she said, coming back around and dropping beside him. “The mating thread can bring her back if you can join it to Nik’s severed thread. It’s a miracle it’s still there, really. It would have died completely eventually, after being severed by Marvellas, but some bonds are particularly stubborn. But Nik…”

Nik’s red, tear-stained eyes met hers.

She said, “By doing this, it might bring her back, but only because it will link your life thread to what’s left of hers as the only way to save her. It means if one of you die, both will die. There will be no other loophole, no other possibility to bring one or both back, when you only have half a life thread each.”

“Do it,” Nik said without hesitation.

Nerida nodded.

“I can’t hold it much longer. The resistance is growing.”

“We have thirty seconds at most. Find the other half of the gold thread. Nik’s half. With his blood in her, Tauria’s should help guide you toward it.”

Tarly listened. Instead of pulling on the gold thread, desperate for it not to slip out of his grasp, he relaxed and let it guide him.

He tried not to count the seconds, but they drummed in his mind.

Then, there it was: another frayed golden thread floating in this darkening space. Tarly strained, pulling Tauria’s thread toward it, but the distance felt too great for the ends to meet.

“Help me,” Tarly gritted out, pushing his magick harder, but he needed Nik to reach back.

“I’m trying,” Nik said desperately.

His thread inched closer. So close. Tarly panted, giving everything he had, until he could grip onto Nik’s thread. Then, with a strained cry, he pushed himself a final time to bring the ends together and fuse their connection.

Energy erupted . It cast him out abruptly, which severed his magick output. Tarly was slammed back into his surroundings, caught by Nerida. It was like something physical had pummeled into him.

His right hand pressed to the floor, feeling the cool stone beneath it.

My right hand.

Tarly looked down at the sling he’d pulled his bad arm out of instinctively to catch himself. He lifted that arm that had lost all feeling and mobility, but…not anymore.

He examined his hand and flexed his fingers. The skin was still gray, but he could feel again. Maybe it was only temporary with magick still coursing through him, but Tarly rubbed his chest, feeling lighter than he had since the bite first happened.

“Your arm…” Nerida noticed.

She took his gray hand, running her gentle touch over the skin, and smiled.

“Nik…” Tauria’s voice was weak, but at the sound of it…

Tarly and Nerida turned their incredulous attention toward her.

He’d done it. He’d really done it.

Nerida whimpered, leaning into him, as the weight of relief bore down on them all.

“Her wound still needs healing,” Tarly said, lifting his hand again even though he felt exerted beyond his limit.

Nerida stopped him and retrieved her pouch. “You need to recover, or you’ll harm yourself. You did absolutely phenomenal work, Tarly. I’ll give her something for the pain, and I have some medicines that will aid natural healing. We need to get her somewhere warm and comfortable. But the worst is overcome, thanks to you.”

Tarly sat back on his knees, in complete disbelief over the power he’d used that had been dormant within him all along. Though he wouldn’t have been strong enough to save Tauria on his own, even if he had tapped into his healing before.

His sight fell on the empty Phoenix Blood vial, and he swiped it up. He was so beholden to Marlowe, yet he would never get to thank her. The loss of her struck all over again, and Tarly pocketed the vial as if it were a token of her he would carry.

Nik lifted Tauria carefully, following Nerida and Tarly out of the room.

He was beginning to let go of the adrenaline that had fueled him—until he was stunned to a halt just outside the door.

Fae and dark fae surrounded them, all clad in black uniforms, no sign of Olmstone purple. Leading them…was Chief Zainaid.

“You continue to find yourselves in perilous situations, it seems,” he said by way of greeting.

Tarly’s spine locked. Last he’d seen the chief, he’d explained his allegiance to Dakodas wasn’t true, but a lot could have changed since then, and his appearance now raised his guard.

“Have you come to apprehend us?” Tarly asked.

“I’m afraid so.”

There were too many soldiers for them to fight their way out. Especially with Tauria wounded and Nerida without her Waterwielding.

Zainaid noticed Tarly’s assessment. “Don’t make this a fight. The full moon rises in two weeks—you will not be held in the cells for long before your Transition. Four royals at once… Dakodas and Mordecai will be very pleased indeed.”

A shudder racked his body. Zainaid played his role so well Tarly was beginning to doubt his allegiance still held to his Wolverlon name.

They had no choice but to follow.

Tarly took Nerida’s hand, interlocking their fingers, as they headed toward the castle of Olmstone.

They were taken to the cells below the castle, and Tarly wondered if it was added punishment that he was pushed into a cell with Nerida, and through the bars in the cell beside them, his father was still fucking alive.

At least, that was what Tarly thought before he stared at Varlas for long enough without detecting movement that he began to suspect it was just a corpse.

Then he took a breath deeper than the shallow pace barely keeping him alive.

Nerida said, “Is that?—?”

“My father. The fallen King of Olmstone.”

Tarly had been sure his father would be dead by now, yet his torturous slow end had been prolonged far longer than he thought. Tarly even felt bad for leaving him the last time he visited. He’d hoped for closure, but all he’d received was confirmation his father had died along with his mother a long time ago.

The scent was pungent, as if he were a corpse. Tarly directed Nerida away from watching the grim sight. Nik and Tauria were in the cell next to them.

Tarly unclasped his cloak, offering it through the bars. Nik looked up, taking it when his own around Tauria wasn’t enough. There would be a time for the words unspoken in Nik’s eyes, but Tarly smiled, knowing what they were anyway.

The cold tensed his body, but it was bearable.

“We need to get out of here,” Tarly said, already calculating with all he knew about the castle layout and escape routes.

“I thought you said Zainaid was on our side,” Nerida said.

Tarly raised a finger to his lips, mindful of the guards loyal to Dakodas that lingered nearby. “I thought he was, but things could have changed.”

“He sure seemed convincing,” Nik said. “And look at where we are.”

Nerida slipped another vial of pain-reliever through the bars to Nik.

“But we’re together, and he didn’t order our weapons to be taken,” Tarly observed. He wasn’t giving up faith in Zainaid just yet.

“Tar-Tarly.” The croak of his voice was barely human.

He approached the bars to his father’s cell. The last time he’d been here and heard every cruel reality his father had told him, he’d broke. Now, Tarly felt absolutely nothing for the male who had all but disowned him.

“You’ve outlasted my expectation,” Tarly said.

“You-you came back, my-my son.”

“I stopped being your son long ago. You don’t get to call me that now you think it might save you.”

Nerida took his hand. She was the reason he found the strength to climb out of the grave he’d allowed a life of hardship to push him deep into.

Out of the shadows his father sat in, decaying while still alive, his head lolled against the stone, and Tarly met his sunken eyes. They fell briefly to his hand held in Nerida’s, which tightened his hold, anticipating something cruel and taunting toward the love he’d found.

“I-I wanted to tell…to tell you some-something.” His father could barely push out words. Tarly figured he hadn’t spoken in some time. “A con-confession.”

“If you think it will atone for all you’ve done, it won’t.”

“Isabel was not-not your mate.”

Nerida leaned into him more. Shock clashed through them both, but some part of Tarly knew this. He just couldn’t figure out how he’d felt so sure, and how the rejected bond had felt so real.

“Marvellas thought it would make you…make you stronger. More compliant. After seeing what losing my…my mate did to me, her plan was that if you thought you lost…lost your mate too, you would be willing…willing to become dark fae to forget it all like me.”

The confession drove a spear of betrayal through his heart.

“How could you wish that kind of pain upon your own child?” Nerida said in horror.

Tarly answered, “Because I wasn’t his child anymore.”

Nerida’s grip tightened, then she stepped forward in a rare flash of anger, pointing a finger though the bars at his father. “You never deserved him,” she said angrily. “You don’t know half the amazing things he’s achieved and all the great things he is. You didn’t care to discover your son had healing magick within him. Despite everything, he is the most considerate person you had no part or privilege in raising.”

Tarly let go of her hand to circle an arm around her waist, drawing her to him. “You saw everything before I could even see it myself,” he said, low and close to her ear.

Her anger dissolved, relaxing her body into him.

“Everything was worth it to make it to you. My mate. My one and only remarkable mate.”

“You-you have healing magick?” his father croaked. Though it wasn’t out of any pride when he followed with, “Will you help me…please?”

His father tried to shift, but it was like his body had decayed into the stone where he sat.

Tarly’s jaw locked. “Yes, Father. I will.”

He leaned down to Nerida’s pouch, retrieving a vial. Nerida exchanged a look of surprise with him, but she didn’t object.

The bottle rolled across the stone, hitting his father’s leg. He scrambled for it as if it were his first drop of water after days through the desert.

He drank the small potion eagerly, letting the bottle slip from his clumsy grip afterward, and it shattered.

Tarly wandered over to the front of his cell, wrapping a hand around a thick bar and leaning his head to the cold metal. He closed his eyes, tuning in to the shallow beats of his father’s heart. Nerida closed in after a few seconds, laying her head against his back in solace.

No one moved. No one spoke.

His father’s last breaths where wheezes and chokes. The tonic he’d consumed was an anti-inflammatory, but since that wasn’t a correct diagnosis for what his father was going through, it would slowly decrease his heart rate until it stopped.

The silence that settled after the final beat declared Tarly the King of Olmstone, but still, he would not take that crown when the war was over. For now, he would do what he had to do.

Zainaid returned at last just as Tauria woke up, still weak and disorientated, but coming around stronger each hour.

“You shouldn’t have come here now,” Zainaid said, his tone hushed. The chief’s eyes skimmed over to the dead king, and he winced, casting a knowing look at Tarly, who gave no reaction.

“We didn’t have a choice. Now tell me what’s going on here,” Tarly demanded.

“This is one of Dakodas’s strongest fortresses. She’s stationed much of her army here from Valgard, with more arriving every day. They’re planning to move onto the fringe soon.”

“We know this,” Nik said. “What we’re wondering is if you’ve decided to save yourself and join them truly.”

The chief’s expression flexed. “They expect me to lead what’s left of Olmstone’s army into battle with Valgard. I’ll admit, I was running out of options until you showed up. Foolish—you were never getting through Olmstone without being detected by the spies that crawl this place—but we need you, Tarly. These soldiers are afraid and will follow me into battle even against what they believe in. Unless they see a Wolverlon still lives—still stands to fight against the enemy and will not yield.”

“Why can’t you lead them against Valgard?” Tarly asked.

“You royals are a symbol to the people. You have the strength and abilities like many common folk, but it is your legacy they believe in. The name that has led them through every trial and change of history for generations. Not every heir born can live up to the expectation that weighs on a crown… Can you, Tarly Wolverlon?”

He looked to Nerida, his pillar of strength and belief. The Queen of Lakelaria who, against her fears, had declared herself and become the symbol needed for the rebellion on the grand island to act against Marvellas for the first time. Now it was his turn.

Tarly lifted his chin. “What do you need me to do?”