Page 18 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

Nyzaia squinted and tucked her hair behind her ear.

She was uncertain about one illustration in particular, which was either a person shrouded in smoke or simply where the charcoal had smudged.

The second drawing depicted a sword of some form, yet she could barely make out the third.

Flames appeared to gather behind an indiscernible figure.

When a knock sounded, Nyzaia slammed the book closed.

By the second knock it was under the bed, by the third knock, she breathed a sigh of relief, recognising the owner.

“Come in,” she called, pulling her robe tighter and crossing her legs beneath the sheets.

Farid waited for several seconds before entering, and she smiled at his caution.

“That was quick,” she said. Farid lingered at the door and pressed his ear against it.

She frowned, but he brought a finger to his lips.

Trusting his judgement, Nyzaia remained silent and tried to gauge where he had been.

His uniform was pristine; he favoured the red uniform of Keres over the black leathers worn by her syndicate.

Mud lined his shoes, and a sheen of sweat glinted on his forehead.

After a few minutes, Farid drew away from the door and took two steps forward, resuming his usual rigid stance by Nyzaia’s side.

He tucked his hands behind his back. Nyzaia was an excellent judge of character; as queen of the Assassins, she had to be, but she could not read the many emotions swimming in Farid’s pale blue eyes.

She patted the spot on the bed beside her, and conflict plagued his glance at the break in protocol. She patted the bed again with dramatic flair.

“Do not worry. I will not let the syndicate know you dared to break professionalism.” Nyzaia rolled her eyes, attempting to lighten the situation. Farid’s feet were slow as he crossed the room, and she stifled a laugh as he awkwardly sat on the edge, placing his palms face down on each thigh.

“You seem uncomfortable, Farid,” she said. He turned his head to look at her.

“It is not normal for me to be alone in another person’s chambers, let alone my queen’s,” he said, and Nyzaia grinned.

“You have not had many partners?” She regretted the question when Farid winced and looked away. Nyzaia had hoped Farid would continue to lower his walls with her and become a friend, but he appeared to control his approach to others. She changed the subject, relieving him of any awkwardness.

“So, give me your full report,” she said, leaning in. His face lit up at the request and he turned to face her, lifting his leg onto the bed to mirror Nyzaia. She smiled.

“Apologies, my queen. I should in no way be joyful about what I discovered.” He returned to his usual stoicism, and Nyzaia straightened, surprised he had found something.

She urged him to continue. “I followed Tajana like you requested. First, she went directly to the market and picked up the pistachio dessert you like, though I am uncertain if this one is as good as the one you get in Tabheri.”

“It’s better,” she said.

“Noted.” Nyzaia was surprised he noticed what foods she ate.

“I expected her to journey to the tavern to join the others, but she left the city. I followed her as far as Garridon’s border, and she checked no one was following before she ran into Hybrooke Forest. I apologise, my queen, for not following her further.

I didn’t wish to risk a Garridon soldier finding a member of the Keres Queen’s Guard entering without decree. ”

“No, Farid, do not apologise. That was wise,” Nyzaia folded and unfolded the top of the sheet. “How long was she there?”

“Not long. Thirty minutes, perhaps. But when she exited, she was further down the border, closer to the sea. I had to run back to avoid us crossing paths.” Nyzaia nodded, uncertain of what to say.

“It may be nothing to worry about, my queen.” He lifted his hand as though to comfort her but appeared to decide against it, awkwardly lowering his hand to pat the bed. Nyzaia laughed.

“Perhaps not,” she said. “She has been mediating for the Red Stones. It is plausible she was undergoing some business for them, though that in itself is a problem. I cannot have an active member of the Red Stones as captain of my Queen’s Guard.

It creates too many blurred lines.” Farid was silent and stared off into the distance.

“Farid,” Nyzaia said, but he did not move. “Farid,” she said again, more gently this time. He blinked yet was unresponsive. She touched his arm, and he snapped his hand around her wrist. Gasping, Nyzaia snatched it back.

“Gods, Nyzaia, I—” Farid stumbled over his words.

“My queen, I apologise. I did not mean to lay a hand on you.” He stood abruptly and walked to the door, his hands shaking.

Nyzaia rose and tracked his movements as questions raced through her mind.

Did he possess power? After all, he never spoke of his past; perhaps he was an illegitimate son of a lord.

Nyzaia winced as a tingling pain bloomed along her wrist.

“Farid, it is fine. Please, do not worry.” She did not wish to admit he had hurt her.

“It is my past. I—” Farid rushed to the door before Nyzaia could request he stay. “Is that all for the evening, my queen?” he asked, straightening and avoiding her eye.

“Yes, Farid. Thank you.” He abruptly left, and Nyzaia frowned, uncertain what could torment him enough to make him lose control. She moved her hand to extinguish the flame by her bedside, but in the light, she caught sight of the markings on her wrist.

A burn in the shape of a male handprint.