Page 46 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

Nyzaia

I t was as though the Keres heat had evaporated as Nyzaia froze.

She gripped her side and used her other hand to prop her up into a seated position.

Countless times, she had opened and closed her mouth to speak, but what does one say when the captain of their guard saves your life by flying to catch you?

Please do not tell anyone.

That was all Farid said when she turned to find him.

He had said nothing since. Sadness and disappointment brimmed in his pale blue eyes that burned alongside the flamed wings on his back.

Having learned more about her captain’s ways lately and understanding his dedication to her, Nyzaia knew he was disappointed in himself for keeping this from her.

Nyzaia propped herself up and winced at the pain in her ribs, likely cracked from the impact.

Farid winced, too, as she shuffled towards him so as not to strain her side.

He bowed his head when she reached him. Nyzaia frowned, saddened by his guilt, and knelt before him.

Never in her life had Nyzaia imagined she would be jealous of a man, but as she gazed upon the wings protruding from Farid’s back, the feeling consumed her.

He had wings. It was no illusion or trick of the light.

Farid had actual, beautiful wings. Nyzaia reached for them slowly to signal her intentions to Farid.

Still, he hung his head and avoided her eyes.

The flames flickered on his wings and licked her hand as she reached through to graze the deep red feathers.

Her fingers paused at the tips dipped in gold, only visible if you were close enough to see through the individual flames on each .

Farid’s wings were tucked taunt behind his back, the curved tops standing high above his head.

“Show me,” Nyzaia breathed. Farid gulped as her fingers graced another feather.

“Show me, Farid.” she commanded. Farid rolled his shoulders back, and Nyzaia audibly gasped at the magnificence of his wings as he released them.

A soft glow emanated from them and filled the room, his wingspan completely blocking the opening.

Nyzaia had seen wings only twice before: those illustrated in children’s books and on the creatures that attacked Garridon.

But Farid’s wings were different. The creatures were dark, ragged—an embodiment of torment and horror—while Farid’s were magnificent, regal, and warm.

Still, he had kept them from her. Although Nyzaia wanted to trust Farid and felt a connection urging her to do so, she would be negligent not to question if there was more to his wings.

Farid shifted and reached for the sickle blade at his side, offering it to Nyzaia with his head bowed.

“Take them,” he murmured. Frowning, Nyzaia glanced between him and the blade catching the light before looking back to him.

“What do you mean?” she asked gently.

“My wings. Take them,” he said, a firm edge in his voice.

“I betrayed my queen; I kept this from you. Take them.” He offered her the blade, which rested on his open palms. Farid knelt before her, having exposed his closest secret to save her life.

Yet the guilt consumed him so much that he wished for her to slice away a part of him.

Pain flitted through Nyzaia’s chest. She placed her hand on the blade and pushed his hands down.

“Look at me, Farid,” she commanded, igniting her own palms in flames and reaching for his hands.

His shoulders shuddered as he slowly raised his head, his burning blue eyes colliding with the amber flames flickering in her own.

The two knelt before one another, bathed in the fire of his wings and the flame of her blood.

A silent tear rolled down Farid’s golden-brown skin as he clenched his jaw to keep it from wobbling.

Nyzaia grasped his hands and held them on her thighs.

“I will not take what you have used to selflessly save me.”

“They make me dangerous. A liability.”

Nyzaia shook her head. “You saved me, Farid. You saved your queen .” Nyzaia stressed what she knew he deemed most important: his loyalty to her.

“I should have told you,” he mumbled.

“What were you going to say? ‘Excuse me, Your Majesty, I have fucking wings growing out of my back.’” She let out a soft laugh, trying to reassure him.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he squeezed her hand.

“Did one of your parents have…” Farid firmly shook his head before she could finish her question. “Did anyone in your family?”

“It was only me and my parents. I do not know if any ancestor bore this monstrosity.” Farid pressed his mouth into a firm line, and Nyzaia frowned. He truly believes he is a monster.

“I do not like to ask, Farid”—Nyzaia waited for him to meet her eyes and, finally, he held her gaze—“but I must. The creatures… is there anything that ties you together? Any link?” While Nyzaia did not expect there to be a connection, she would fail the other rulers, her syndicate, and her duty if she did not question it, especially when the only other winged creatures she knew to exist had just attacked Garridon.

“Nothing,” Farid said firmly. “I knew nothing of them until the ball. When I picture them, I think only of my duty to protect you.” Farid’s voice wobbled.

“You have given me my life, Farid, and for that, I could never trust someone more,” Nyzaia reassured him.

His hand was tight around hers as his lip quivered.

Their hands warmed, and a thin amber thread danced across their palms. They frowned, peering down at their interlocked hands as the temperature climbed.

Farid tried to remove his hand but could not.

“Ah,” Nyzaia winced as their palms burned.

Farid’s wings retracted—there one moment and gone the next—and the glow of his eyes returned to their usual blue.

The burning sensation remained as the threads spiralled tighter around them, binding their hands together.

It was unusual for Nyzaia to feel affected by fire, but it felt like someone pressed a hot iron against their connecting palms. Farid reached with his other hand for Nyzaia’s arm, bracing against their shared pain until it halted.

Nyzaia dropped his hand and peered at her own.

A raised scar etched the centre of her palm.

It was similar in size to the marks on Elisara and Kazaar, though she did not recognise the symbol.

It reminded her of something she would find within the pages of Myths and Lies of Ithyion .

Wide-eyed, Nyzaia looked up at Farid. Nyzaia did not need to look at his palm to know the truth.

She felt an immediate awareness of his presence, but looked, regardless, to where a matching scar sat amongst the other scars on Farid’s hand.

“But I do not… We do not—” Farid began.

“No shit,” Nyzaia said, staring at their palms. While they were not connected like Elisara and Kazaar, the scars on their palms were a clear sign.

“We are tied,” Farid breathed. “How?”

Nyzaia leaned back, and Farid mimicked her, crossing his legs.

“The book is missing pages, but the only passage about the celestial ties says they are bestowed upon two individuals who share a destiny.” Nyzaia recalled the passage from memory.

“It is a bond only presented by the Celestial Gods when two beings finally acknowledge their connection to one another and allow their essences to merge.”

“Is that what the threads were?” Farid asked. “The essence of our power?”

Nyzaia nodded. “I assume so.”

The two sat in silence, the weight of another presence weighing heavily on their souls.

“The passage said that some were granted access to one another's powers, memories, and minds,” Nyzaia finally said, breaking the silence. Her eyes lit up with hope. “Do you think that means I can have wings?” Farid scoffed.

“It is not as easy as it looks.”

Nyzaia refrained from smiling at Farid’s attempt at humour and imagined what she would look like with wings and if they would be the same deep red as Farid’s.

“Memories and minds,” Farid said. “Does that mean we can do what the queen of Vala and her commander do?”

Nyzaia leaned forward and frowned, trying to send a thought to Farid. She did not know how the pair did it, but she doubted it was an arduous task.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and Nyzaia shifted again.

“I guess we do not share minds in the same way,” she said, though a part of her wished they did. She had so many questions for Farid, like how long he had wings, and why he kept them hidden.

“Ask,” said Farid.

“So, you can hear my thoughts? Nyzaia asked, but Farid shook his head. He rested his elbows on his crossed legs and propped his chin on his fists.

“It is more like I can sense what you are feeling. I can feel that you have questions.”

“Is it difficult for you to talk about?” she asked, and he nodded.

Nyzaia did not wish to pain him. “Perhaps you could try showing me?” She reached for his hands.

While they may not share minds like Elisara and Kazaar, perhaps they could share memories.

“Take a deep breath, and think about it,” Nyzaia said calmly and waited for Farid to close his eyes before she closed her own.

Nyzaia steadied her breathing and allowed Farid to focus.

The darkness in her mind shifted and morphed until she saw the inside of a small bedroom.

“He is an abomination, Sanaa!” yelled a voice outside the closed door. Nyzaia stepped forward. The voice was familiar, a sharp tone that presented as polished and noble despite the gruff lilt sneaking through certain words. She pressed her ear to the door to listen .

“He is five! You cannot call him an abomination simply because he looks different!” a female screamed back.

“He is either an abomination, or you are a whore, because those are not my eyes, Sanaa!” His fierce tone tugged at Nyzaia’s memories.