Page 95 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

EPILOGUE TWO

Z aiana sat by Maverick’s grave on the full moon. It had become routine. Every month. She didn’t know why.

She’d buried him under a beautiful willow tree. He probably would have hated it, so it seemed fitting. The pile of rocks that marked the spot he lay under had withstood the near year since she’d arranged them. Not a single one had moved. Stubborn even in the grave , she thought each time she came here.

Zaiana sat in her solemn silence, hugging her knees to her chest, depleted of emotion. “I thought I almost found him last week,” she told Maverick. “But Mordecai remains a snake in the grass.”

Zaiana rested her chin on her knees, watching the glowing orb in the sky. She didn’t miss anyone. Not even Tynan. Because she knew he was living a better life with Izaiah and the others than he would by her side. So she’d made sure he could never find her. She was very good at remaining hidden…

To all but one person.

She didn’t miss Kyleer, because he’d stuck to his own routine of somehow finding her at least once a month despite her efforts to remain untraceable. Zaiana had come to consider it something of a game, trying to elude him every dawn after the full moon. When he would find her, it gave her a small distraction from her relentless pursuit of her father.

There had been little whisper of Mordecai, and she was beginning to suspect he’d fled the continent of Ungardia altogether. She just couldn’t bring herself to cross seas yet. And she knew it was the damn stubborn pile of rocks next to her that felt like an anchor against setting sail.

The rulers of this continent were slowly gaining the trust of the dark fae. She’d noticed some roamed freely on the mainland, welcomed as citizens in various new kingdoms.

They’d tried many times to convince her to take over leadership of Valgard, where most dark fae had chosen to stay or return. She refused to take that throne. Their king still lived, and until he was dead, the clutches of his ghost would always cling to her.

Besides, the idea of a crown on her head and a title of queen was just laughable. Her whole life had been hidden, a companion of the shadows. She wasn’t born to lead the dark fae into the light.

Faythe and the others had taken over Dalrune, Maverick’s kingdom , and she resented it. They’d invited her there for their monarchs’ meeting , as Kyleer last relayed. She couldn’t bring herself to step into the castle of Dalrune.

Until she killed Mordecai for killing Maverick, she couldn’t rest.

In truth, Zaiana feared when that day would come, for after she’d achieved her goal…she didn’t know what would become of her.

There was nothing left for her to do in this world, and maybe it would be better off without her in it.

Kyleer would be better off. She really believed he would have given up by now, since every time he’d tried to touch her frozen heart she’d lashed out with icy bitterness.

He didn’t deserve it. She despised herself for hurting him, but he kept. Coming. Back.

The longest he’d left her alone was two months, and she’d believed then he’d finally let her go. Then, when he appeared in the midst of her killing a string of savage dark fae, her heart might have been glad for it, but her mind resented him for splitting it open anew.

Zaiana sighed, wincing from the ache of her dormant muscles as she stood. The first rays of dawn spilled over the horizon—her signal to leave.

“I will find him,” Zaiana said to the ghost of Maverick that followed her steps of vengeance. “Next time I come, I’ll have killed him.”

She spoke that vow every time, even though not once had it been true.

An hour later, Zaiana crouched on a high rooftop, her hood drawn and a covering over the lower half of her face. She waited, wanting to catch Kyleer before he caught her.

When she detected a presence across the roof behind her, Zaiana spun, bracing to lunge for him, as their regular greeting always exploded in violence.

Except this time, every muscle in her body locked against movement. She was sure her heart had ripped out of her chest and landed in the clutches of her intruder. He smiled, and it was so uncanny it jerked Zaiana straight, even stumbling over her own feet with her backward step.

“Maverick,” she breathed.

“Zaiana, I presume? I’ve been looking for you for quite some time.”

Only when he spoke did she snap out of her trance. It wasn’t nearly the same accent or deep tone. Still, a lump had formed too thick and fast, and Zaiana couldn’t swallow past it.

Her next words were barely a squeak. “Who are you?”

“My apologies,” he said. The longer she stared and the more he spoke, the more she started to notice how very different this male was to Maverick. “This must be a shock to you. My name is Theron Osirion. Callen was my older brother.”

His hair was longer, brushing past his nape. His eyes were a similar shape but a plain brown. The way he spoke retained the sense of regality Maverick had let fall to cold depression. Then, behind him…Zaiana had been too stunned to notice the small Firebird on another rooftop, watching them carefully.

“Maverick never mentioned you,” Zaiana said, coming back into herself and raising her guard.

“Maverick was not my brother,” he answered with bitter notes of resentment.

Zaiana’s teeth gritted at his disgust. “Then you’ve been looking for the wrong person. Find Faythe Ashfyre if you want the Dalrune throne.”

“I don’t. And I have found the right person. For not long before he died, I received this letter…” Theron retrieved a parchment from inside his jacket. “Signed by my brother, Callen. I want to believe there was a part of him still in the monster he became, and so I’ve come to help you.”

“Help me? ”

“Find Mordecai and kill him. You may seek retribution for Maverick, but I’m owed justice for my brother, my parents, and my country he destroyed.”

“Your country is being restored. You’re the rightful heir and should focus your efforts there.”

Theron unfolded the paper that looked so thin now, as if he’d read the letter many times. He read it to her.

“Fate may have stolen my mate, my family, and my life, but it has not stolen justice. You know who did this. You know what must be done. Do not let my death be the end of this story—let it be the reason Mordecai never knows a moment of peace. Find Zaiana Vesaria. She is the only one I trust to serve adequate justice, but you should be a part of it too. She’s violent, headstrong; she’s the shadow that lingers even in the dark. Please, brother, as my last wish, protect her. For she’ll try to take this path alone, and I fear this is one too dark for her to make it back to the light when vengeance is had.”

The wind blew over a wet trail Zaiana hadn’t felt rolling down her cheek until Theron stopped speaking. She was grateful for her hood and her face covering to disguise her slip of emotion.

“Maverick would never write something so… heartfelt .”

Theron’s smile was a partial wince as he folded the letter again. “Callen would. That’s why I’ve come to honor it.”

“If you cared so much about your brother , then where have you been?” Zaiana yelled. She ripped her mask down to spit her emotions violently. “Where were you while he died in my arms! Believing he was no one . Believing he had no one!”

Misery fell over Theron’s face. “I’ve been in Salenhaven. After the Great Battles…I barely escaped with my life. I don’t recall much of who helped me, nor how I made it across the sea beyond Lakelaria. All I knew was that I wasn’t Theron Orison anymore. I couldn’t be. If I was to survive, I had to start again, and I believed my whole family was dead. Until this letter. I don’t know how Callen knew I was alive and where I was… I guess I’ll never know now, and it kills me. I failed him. But you…you saved him.”

Zaiana’s vision flashed with a white-hot rage. Her hand shook, clutching a blade she’d unsheathed to parry with Kyleer. “Saved him?” she said, her voice as sharp as a blade. “He’s dead .”

“That wasn’t all he said about you in that letter. He’s never spoken about anyone that way who wasn’t his mate. Callen died, but his heart lived on in Maverick…only for you.”

It was like he was giving her praise, and it crawled over her skin so treacherously she wanted to rip off her own flesh to be rid of it.

“You know nothing,” she said coldly.

Nothing of how cruel she was to him. Nothing of how many times she’d hurt him. Betrayed him. And then let him die.

“You’re right. But I want to know everything. You’re the only one who carries the story of Maverick Blackfair. The real story of the monster everyone saw, who had a heart so deeply buried that only you could reach it.”

“Only to tear it from his chest,” Zaiana spat. She may as well have.

“I don’t believe that.”

“I’m not interested in sitting down by a fire with you to exchange tales about the monster your brother became. You’ve wasted your time.”

“You’re looking for Mordecai. I want vengeance against him as much as you. He slaughtered my family and destroyed my kingdom. And I know where he might be.”

Zaiana was about to dismiss him again until that final sentence.

“How could you know?”

“Because he has no allies nor reputation in Ungardia anymore. Trying to conquer here would be foolish with the new alliance of the continent and the acceptance of the dark fae. Someone like Mordecai will seek the next highest power that aligns with his vision, and there’s been a tyrant on the throne of Salenhaven’s capital for too long. There’s been whispers of a new ally in his court, but no one has seen them. It might not be him, but it’s a good place to start looking.”

She considered everything he said, torn between wanting to cast him away and resume her mission in solitude, but if she were to go to Salenhaven…she knew nothing about those lands. Theron did.

Zaiana turned away from him to consider this new venture. Leaving Ungardia…she’d dreamed of it before. When this continent felt damned and beyond redemption, she dreamed of flying far, far away. Perhaps beyond Salenhaven, to discover uncharted lands.

But now this continent was saved, and its prospects were bright. Zaiana didn’t want to flee to escape its terrors. She felt compelled to leave as she was only a dark stain on these lands that were moving forward while she was stuck in the past.

“Fine,” she said at last, turning back to her unlikely ally. The resemblance he bore to Maverick punched her in the gut again, but she focused on the differences that soothed her aching chest. “But I warn you, I won’t be kind, and you’re just a means to an end.”

“Understood.” Theron smiled, and Zaiana wished Maverick had smiled that way. So genuine and happy . Nothing had given him reason to.

With the distraction of Theron, Zaiana had completely forgotten she was scouting for another irritating presence. Until he found her first.

She hissed when a body dropped from the skies behind her and a blade rested against her throat. Kyleer’s warmth seeped into her, and for a second, the threat of the blade was insignificant. His scent filled her nostrils, and she breathed it in. She would spend every month firming her denial that she ever wanted to see him again, but every time he came, it took seconds to obliterate those efforts.

Steel sang, and she found Theron braced with his sword, pinning Kyleer with a lethal look. The Firebird stirred too, its wings flaring and embers skittering off its feathers.

“New friend?” Kyleer said in her ear in a low, seductive tone.

“I thought it was about time I find better company,” she said.

Zaiana hooked her foot around his leg and grabbed his wrist holding the knife. In one swift movement, she slipped out of his hold, and Kyleer stumbled but didn’t fall.

“Who is that?” Theron asked from behind her.

Kyleer’s gaze narrowed on Theron. “Who are you ?” Kyleer said it like an accusation. But then his face relaxed, realizing… “Elaina and Ragnar Osirion had two sons…but you…you’re supposed to be dead .”

“I’m glad I’m not.”

Kyleer rubbed a hand over his face. “What is going on?”

“He thinks he knows who Mordecai might have turned to for an alliance,” Zaiana explained.

That shifted Kyleer’s entire demeanor. He straightened, and his face firmed, tuning in to the commander as if Theron had just announced an impending war.

“Where?”

“Salenhaven,” Theron said.

A muscle in Kyleer’s jaw worked, and his eyes shifted to her. “When are we going?”

Zaiana shook her head. “You’re not coming with me.”

“Like shit I’m not.”

“Ky—”

“When. Are. We. Going?”

“It sounds like you two have to work this out. I’m going to find a tavern to sample Ungardia wine after all this time away,” Theron said. “Find me when you’re ready, Zaiana. My Phoenix, Azarra, should be easy enough to spot.”

When he left, Kyleer wore a calculating look as he stared off to the side.

“It’s been getting rather dull around here anyway. Rhyenelle is doing well. Faythe and Reylan have had little instruction for me. They’ll understand my leave for a while.”

Her teeth ground. “I don’t want you to come with me.”

Kyleer tried to hide his hurt, but she saw it. However negligible, she always saw his pain and felt it as if it were her own. Though he was a master of pretense.

“I’ll save you the torture of admitting you do want me with you. I’ve been dying to see Salenhaven after discovering the Phoenixes have migrated there and beyond. Faythe is going to be so jealous.”

Internally, she groaned. Zaiana knew there would be no dissuading him, and maybe…

Maybe she wanted his warm company for one last perilous quest. For when the wrath of two storms would meet, only one would make it out alive. Father or daughter.