Page 9 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Faythe

F aythe stood around the table in a war tent littered with maps and figures. With the commanders and generals gathered, her concern for Commander Livia Arrowood came back to the surface of her thoughts. They hadn’t seen Reylan’s cousin since the Battle of Ellium.

In these past weeks, Faythe was focused and determined to learn all she could about Rhyenelle’s armies and strategies, and to get to know the leading commanders and generals at each war camp she traveled to with Kyleer.

Knowledge that would take years to learn had to be crammed into as many hours as she could spare for the battle efforts now. It kept her mind on two tasks at once, so as not to be idle or hopeless while they searched for Reylan. He wouldn’t want her to waste time focusing solely on him. This way, they were making plans to take back Ellium, possibly pivoting to aid High Farrow and Fenstead now, and all the while they had every resource on finding any information on where Reylan was being held.

“Our legions in the east have been discovered despite our diligent efforts,” Commander Leon informed them.

A map of Ungardia spanned the table in the camp’s meeting tent, with various figures placed to mark their legions, armadas, and potential threats that had been scouted. Faythe was becoming familiar with all the terms and strategies for movement, defense, and stakeout.

“How is that possible?” Kyleer said, leaning his hands on the table and observing it as if the enemy would pop up and tell him where they were coming from.

Another commander added, “They weren’t prepared. We lost half. It’s like they knew not only exactly where they were, but also our entire protocol for ambush and defense.”

Faythe’s spine stiffened. She whispered, “Like Reylan would.”

Everyone’s attention snapped to her.

She didn’t want to be right. She added quickly, “He would never give it willingly.”

Her throat tightened until she could hardly draw air, but she kept still and poised, hands clasped behind her back to keep her composure. But thoughts of what Marvellas would have done to him to get that information from his steel-guarded mind racked her with tremendous fear and pain.

“Shit.” Kyleer straightened, keeping his sights on the table, and Faythe could practically hear the cogs working in his brain to figure something out.

How to outsmart their best.

“If that’s true, we have no chance of moving our forces anywhere General Arrowood wouldn’t know,” Leon said, dread now surfacing.

“High Farrow,” Nik interjected. He stood beside her, observing attentively but patiently. “Rhyenelle and Fenstead forces would be safe in High Farrow. If Reylan’s knowledge is compromised, that won’t be a strategy they’d find out.”

“You mean to harbor the entirety of our armies within your borders?” another general asked.

Nik nodded. “It will be a stretch of resources, but in times of war, we have to adapt.”

“And when those resources run out?” Kyleer asked. “As soon as they discover that’s where our forces have gone, they’ll attempt a siege, locking us all in there and starving us out of food and materials needed to fight back.”

“It’s not a foolproof suggestion, or even a favorable one for anyone. But the alternative is risking more attacks on unwitting legions and losing invaluable warriors for nothing,” Nik said.

“I’m in favor of this plan,” Faythe agreed.

She could feel a shift in the tent. A brewing disagreement infused the air with dominance and frustration.

A Rhyenelle commander named Cale spoke. “With all due respect, Your Highness, we need to consider this more carefully. Our army positions right now have been carefully considered over centuries. There are many strategies that hinge on retaining these positions for our best chances of reclaiming the kingdom if it ever fell.”

“You’ll address me as Your Majesty now,” she said calmly. “You’re right. I don’t know as much as any of you here, but I am the Queen of Rhyenelle.”

“Not while Malin Ashfyre sits on the throne as king,” someone said.

“He’s a false king,” Kyleer warned. “If anyone in this damned camp has even the slightest disagreement with that, you’d better make it known now.”

The tension grew thick enough to cut. Faythe might have buckled, were it not for her pillars of strength: her friends. She wasn’t born into this, had barely had the time to grasp what being a ruler meant before she was thrust into a war—not just for her kingdom, but for the entire continent.

She knew there was resistance to her sudden status. In the wake of the king’s death, no one had been given time to grieve or to adjust to the shifting crown. So Faythe understood, but what she wouldn’t tolerate, like Kyleer, was doubt about her right to rule over Malin.

“We will not win against Dakodas.” Faythe’s voice rose. “She is the real threat in our kingdom, not Malin. But we are not enough to consider any advance on Ellium.”

“So we hide,” Cale said sourly.

“Better to wait and gather a bigger plan than lose warriors out of pride that gets us nowhere.”

Her stare-off with this commander turned heated.

“I agree with our queen,” Leon said.

Though it pleased her to hear this, she didn’t allow any relief to quell her nerves.

Cale said, “Aren’t you supposed to be powerful? How can we follow a fable? A Phoenix Queen , who was there as the kingdom was invaded and did nothing to stop it.”

“What use is a mind ability to an army?” another remarked.

A line of lightning shot from her fingertips, cleaving the table but not splitting it entirely apart. Everyone in the tent backed away from it.

Faythe said, “Power doesn’t make anyone invincible. Including Marvellas and Dakodas.”

“Maybe Malin was right,” Cale said. “You may be powerful, but you are untrained and volatile in this role.”

Steel cut through the tent. Kyleer pointed the Ember Sword at the commander’s chest.

“Sounds like you’re declaring a side,” he said like a warning.

Cale’s face twisted in anger. “You would order me cut down, Your Majesty ?”

Faythe debated the order for the mockery dripping in that title alone. “Depends on your answer,” she said.

His glare felt warm over her skin.

“I have been loyal to King Agalhor Ashfyre for longer than you’ve been alive,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yet in questioning me, you question his judgment to declare me his heir.”

“I do not. I’m merely saying you have a long way to go to learn what it takes to lead our people.”

“Watch yourself,” Kyleer said in a deceitful calm.

Faythe’s fingers clenched against the wood, and with a groan, the table pulled back together, the flare of her gold magick filling the crack before dying out, leaving the table and the map perfectly untouched by her violence, save for the knocked-over figurines. Everyone looked over it with confusion and awe.

“Send the order to every general to retreat to High Farrow. They’ll aid in securing the borders and protecting the citizens there,” Faythe said.

“So we abandon our own people?” another commander asked.

Faythe despised what she had to admit. “No. Rhyenelle is still under the rule of an Ashfyre, rightful or not. So long as he’s kept alive, I have to gamble the citizens of his kingdom are safe for now. Malin’s only goal has been to discredit me to the council lords and take the crown. He’ll need the people on his side. So we must shift our defense toward High Farrow, as it’s the last kingdom not infiltrated by Marvellas. If we lose that, we have no stronghold left.”

Faythe exchanged a look with Nik, assured by his single nod.

Kyleer sheathed the Ember Sword but lingered his threatening stare on Cale for a moment longer.

She’d expected resistance and questioning when she asserted herself, and she wouldn’t let it shake her confidence. Agalhor believed in her, Reylan believed in her, her friends always stood by her, and most of all, Faythe believed in herself. It was a road that had taken her a long time to reach, but now she was here, she was not backing down for anything or anyone.

They stayed another hour discussing the finer details of moving the legions one by one inconspicuously, predicting where they might try to infiltrate next and staging their obliviousness to give others a chance to make haste toward High Farrow.

With each movement of figures across the map, the sound of the war drums heightened.

Faythe smiled to Commander Cale before she headed out, but he retained his sour expression.

“You did well in there,” Nik said, following her.

She breathed in the crisp air as they climbed a hill.

“Sometimes I miss delivering apple tarts.”

Nik chuckled then rubbed his stomach. “Marie’s tarts were the reason I started stalking you. Training you was just a cover-up to visit the stall.”

For the first time in weeks, Faythe genuinely laughed, pushing him.

Snow had begun to fall. Faythe reached out a hand, watching the white flurry land and melt against her leather glove with a sense of foreboding she couldn’t explain. She became entranced by the weather, but not for anything good. That was when she stopped walking, recalling the word of the Dresair she’d freed from the mirrors in a Rhyenelle town.

“When snow falls, it will not end until the war is won.”

Faythe sighed, wondering what had happened to the creature…if she’d unleashed another monster onto their land. She couldn’t think about that when she had three more imminent ones to slay.

Marvellas. Dakodas. Mordecai.

“Agalhor would have been proud of you,” Kyleer said gently, catching up with them.

She spoke her gratitude in a heavy smile. “They have a right to be wary of me,” she said. “I have a lot to prove, but I’m ready.”

Pride twinkled in Kyleer’s eyes, and she leaned into him when he slung a large arm around her.

“Where are the others?” Faythe asked Nik.

They’d tried to convince Tarly to come to the meeting, if only to be another allying monarch to their cause, even without an army to contribute. He’d declined, and it hadn’t felt right to insist after his look of reservation and defeat this morning. Tarly had lost his father, was separated from his sister, and had fled his kingdom with no ambition to go back. She didn’t know him well, but she ached for him.

“Lycus was helping Samara figure out our fighting attire. Nerida went into the nearby woodland to find new herbs, and Tarly claimed he needed materials for arrows, so he accompanied her,” Nik informed her.

A large white wolf stalked up the hill behind Nik. Her name was Asari. Faythe had found it amusing how the beast often followed Nik though he had little desire for its companionship. Her twin wolf, Katori, was always by Tarly’s side. A wonder, really, how the sister wolves had chosen two people who could barely tolerate each other.

Between Asari’s teeth were two rabbits, reminding Faythe she’d skipped breakfast this morning.

“She’s useful sometimes, I guess,” Nik grumbled, reaching out a hand to scratch behind her ear. He may voice his dismay, but he couldn’t hide the small hint of endearment in his eyes when he looked at the beast.

They headed back down the hill, deciding to walk into the forest and try to intercept Tarly and Nerida to share their rabbit meal with them.

An hour later, they’d made a fire, cooked and eaten the rabbit, and been found by Nerida, Tarly, Lycus, and Samara.

Faythe gave over to a punishing exertion in her sparring against Nik now.

“I must say, it’s thrilling to finally have you somewhat match my combat ability now,” Nik quipped.

She scoffed, clashing Lumarias to the Farrow Sword, pushing off and twisting right before they could lock still.

“Somewhat?” she goaded. “I’m about to hand you your ass.”

It was the perfect distraction they both needed. While she appreciated Kyleer was always eager to release their anguish through a session, she was rejoicing at the memories being with Nik stirred up.

So much had changed.

Her fae body allowed her to rise against him, and he didn’t need to hold back. No longer did she feel like something was missing.

Faythe tracked his movements without the use of her ability, wanting to expend her full combat abilities to beat him fairly.

“You could have ended this with various maneuvers from Kalsain Seven and Kajac Nine,” Kyleer said to her over their clamor. They were highly effective battle sequences. He stood leaning against a tree, eyes trained on them by habit, assessing the fight.

Faythe only smiled. She didn’t want it to end so soon.

“Don’t pretend you’re going easy on me,” Nik chuckled.

Faythe ducked under his vertical swipe, turning in a crouch, with both hands clamped around the hilt to block his next move. He was fast. Very fast.

“You seem particularly tired today, or were you always this sluggish?” Faythe gibed.

Though she was taunting him to distract him, she had noticed when Nik joined them for breakfast that he looked half-asleep.

“I have to check on Tauria as much as I can,” he answered coolly.

Before she could say anything else, she had to hone her skills when he came at her with more force.

Kyleer was strong, masterfully strategic, and knew her ways; beating him took outsmarting him, which she had yet to achieve. With Nik, her speed was tested like with no one else.

They parried for another minute until Faythe stumbled in her focus because of a pressure in her mind. She tried to shake it off, thinking a headache must be forming from their unrelenting efforts. It grew like a gentle prodding, turning more forceful, and it was then her eyes snapped to Nik’s, forgetting their battle. He anticipated it with a wicked smirk before he disarmed her swiftly and kicked her legs out from under her.

Faythe hit the ground, wincing at the impact, but she didn’t immediately peel herself up.

“Do I want to know how you’re doing that?” she said incredulously.

She partly hoped she was delirious, yet the impression was too damned familiar, and Nik’s hooked brow confirmed what she expected.

He had conscious mind abilities.

“You were right,” he said casually, thrusting a hand to her.

Faythe accepted the help to stand, her thoughts reeling, while Nik dipped inside his jacket. The vial he produced immediately stole her attention for the hum of energy it gave off. Shaking the vial, her eyes widened on the glittering crimson liquid.

“The Phoenix feather was real,” he clarified.

“From Atherius,” Faythe breathed.

“You’re sure it’s from that particular bird?” Nerida chimed in from where she was sitting by a tree, organizing various herbs she’d spent the day gathering. Tarly tied them together, slipping them into a neat pouch, while she scribed what she found in a small journal.

“It’s her… I can feel it,” Faythe confirmed.

“That bird is a myth,” Nik said, but when he met her flat look, he seemed to drop his skepticism. “Well, damn,” he mused instead. “Want to enlighten me as to how you can be so sure then?”

“She’s the bird you saw in my memory when you last Nightwalked to me. I…bonded with her.”

She slid her gaze from Nik’s surprise to the healer, whose smile was knowing, and then to Lycus, who gave a smirk from where he was leaning against the tree. Samara sat at his feet by Nerida, disconnected from their conversation as she was fascinated by Nerida’s plants, forgetting the pretty flowers of her own she was assembling.

“Want to tell me how much you’ve taken of that to give you conscious abilities now?” Faythe asked, motioning to the vial.

Nik pocketed it. “One dose. Months ago in Olmstone. I only did so for the threats we faced. It was necessary.”

Faythe pained at the wince he gave.

“Fascinating,” Nerida said, standing now and brushing the snow from her skirt. The way she examined Nik was like she’d found an unsolvable puzzle. “You said neither of your parents had abilities?” She mulled over this. Faythe half-expected her to start scribing her findings about him in her journal too.

Nik confirmed with a shake of his head, sheathing his sword.

“You really are an anomaly. It’s not common for those without magick to produce a child of one, never mind with the strength of it you possess.”

“So I’ve heard,” Nik brushed off, but there was a note in his tone that revealed he’d never settled with the knowledge either.

They were all shocked by a presence dropping from the trees, and they spun, turning their collective attention to the intruder. Faythe’s fight faltered completely at the brilliant auburn hair she spied.

“Liv!” Kyleer was the first to close the distance in a few long strides before enveloping the commander in his large arms.

“How did you sneak up so easily?” Nik admired.

“A particular catlike talent,” Kyleer answered for her with the brightest grin, reaching to tousle her hair.

Faythe smiled at their playful jostling. Her chest lightened a fraction to know Livia’s safety was accounted for when they’d been trying to track her.

“What took you so long?” Faythe asked.

“I’ve been scouting,” Livia explained. “Trying to find what I can.”

“Have you found anything about?—?”

“No.” Livia cut Faythe off before her hope could spark. “Nothing about Reylan yet, but there’s an enemy legion heading toward Fener, and I predict it will settle by nightfall. We’d be wise to move this camp before they get here. They outnumber us two-to-one.”

Faythe asked Kyleer, “Do you think it’s the same one that attacked the other camp?”

Kyleer hummed, his expression shifting with a firm battle focus.

“What direction did they come from?”

“West, it would appear. They were all in black. Valgard soldiers, I believe.”

“Marvellas’s soldiers,” Faythe corrected. “We can’t keep blaming one kingdom when they could be just as much of a puppet as High Farrow was. A nation to take the blame.”

“Even in history, under the rule of Mordecai, who lives again, Valgard has always been at odds with the rest of the continent.”

“Even so. I won’t condemn an entire country for their history,” Faythe said. Then she directed her thoughts back to the impending army. “Two-to-one isn’t that unmatched.”

Livia said, “Our warriors here are still recovering, and we need time to get our generals and our legions in order to fight systematically.”

Faythe didn’t enjoy the itch in her that wanted this battle. To be on the front line and in the thick of it, cutting through Marvellas’s forces like timber. Maybe this could be their greatest lead yet toward Reylan. It was selfish of her to want to fight.

Kyleer said, “We don’t have enough time to move out as one. We’ll have to get word to the other generals imminently to break off and divert. Some may have to stay behind.”

Faythe nodded, accepting his guidance with this. Her anger shook. She felt like the mouse in Marvellas’s maze, forced to scramble and hitting dead ends while the prey closed in.

“I’m staying behind,” Faythe said.

“You’re our leader, not a front-line soldier,” Livia protested.

“Cale was right in that meeting. I’m powerful. People are counting on me, and I haven’t done anything yet to show it.”

“That’s not true, and you know it,” Kyleer said.

“Then I’ve not done enough ,” Faythe corrected. “I was a fighter before I was a queen. I can be both.”

“I’m staying with you,” Kyleer said.

“This might not be a prime concern,” Samara chimed in timidly, “but with the plans to send everything you have to High Farrow, I have to wonder if Lord Zarrius still holds power there.”

Nik swore, glancing at Faythe. “Do you know if he’s still in your castle?”

He was the last person Faythe had considered with all that was happening. The last time she saw the lord was when she’d rejected his dance and he’d been silently infuriated.

Faythe shook her head. “We haven’t had contact from inside. Their defenses around Ellium are strong—likely anticipating I would try to return. I haven’t been able to Nightwalk to Jakon, Marlowe, or Izaiah. But someone like Zarrius has no more to gain there, like my hand in marriage. It would be wise to assume he’s set his sights back on High Farrow knowing you’d be absent to go after Tauria.”

Nik pinched the bridge of his nose. “That bastard won’t quit in his pursuit of a crown, and this has all opened up in his damn favor.”

“Would your council really be so swayed by his authority?” Tarly asked.

Faythe was familiar with Zarrius’s attempt to gain Nik’s kingdom with Samara as his pawn. She didn’t doubt Zarrius was cunning enough to try again.

“He’ll have lost credibility by now, I believe, but he’s cunning. With me away from my council, I have no doubt he’ll try to weasel his way through their minds,” Nik said. He paced a few steps in thought.

“I’ll go back,” Samara said.

Everyone’s surprised looks targeted her, and she shrank into herself.

“You’re not going back to him alone,” Nik said firmly. “Not after what he’s done to you.”

“Agreed,” Faythe said.

“I’m the only one he’ll let get close to him. He’ll believe I’ve come back with nowhere else to go, and he likes to hold that kind of power over people,” Samara said, finding more determination in her tone.

“Get close for what?” Livia asked.

“To kill him.”

They all knew it was what had to happen. Zarrius was too unpredictable and would always pose a threat with his drive for power, but it was unexpected to have the task posed by the gentle high-born lady.

“Much as I like the sound of that, one suspicion and Zarrius wouldn’t hesitate to kill you ,” Livia said.

When Samara glanced up at the commander, a blush fanned across her pale cheeks before she resumed picking at the hem of her sleeve. “I appreciate everyone’s concern despite what I’ve done. But I don’t have much other purpose here. After I achieve his assassination, I can flee. I want to do this,” she said.

“What you’ve done is forgiven and in the past. I won’t let you become a fugitive for murdering a lord,” Nik said firmly.

He’d come to care for Samara, and from what Faythe knew of her story, she could understand her actions somewhat, even though she’d made an attempt on Nik’s life. If he could forgive it, Faythe could try too. It was all Zarrius’s manipulation.

“I can escort her and make sure the careful movement of our armies is on track,” Livia said.

That eased Nik and Lycus’s concern.

Faythe shifted a glance to Tarly Wolverlon. He was looking paler by the day. It was clear his days were numbered, and Nerida wouldn’t leave his side. The healer spent all her time with her herbs and her journal, fussing over Tarly when he tried to assure her he was well. He was anything but.

She exchanged glances with Nik, who, despite his typical adverse feelings toward the Olmstone prince, bore his own concern.

“We’ll leave tomorrow night,” Livia settled on. She crossed the space to Nik, unsheathing a small dagger and passing it to him. “You can Nightwalk to me to stay informed about High Farrow. It’s in everyone’s best interests to avoid any unnecessary conflict on the inside of our last stronghold.”

Nik frowned at the dagger—a belonging of hers that would allow him to Nightwalk the long distance to her—but something else was on his mind. He reached for something hidden inside his jacket, and Faythe’s eyes caught on the blade he produced with a missed beat of recognition in her chest.

“He’d want you to have this now,” Nik said. “He gave it to me before we parted in High Farrow for the same reason.”

It was Jakon’s. Faythe would never mistake the aged, worn wooden handle of the first thing she’d ever been able to afford to gift to her best friend. Faythe took it vacantly, and though she was glad to have this piece of him with her, the blade that held so many memories in its steel split open a hollow void in her. She wished then she had another dagger—the one Marlowe had gifted her before her first fight against a fae—to have a piece of them both with her while they were parted. She hoped with every ache in her that they were staying safe in Rhyenelle’s castle.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Nik wordlessly slung an arm around her shoulders.

Everyone was beginning to find their role in the march toward the end of this war, and every breath was held in the hope they’d all be standing when it came.