Page 31 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

T he two made it to the stables in record time, Tristan mounting his horse first. Rose slipped past her steed to uncover the sword she had hidden in the hay for her training, securing it to her back before climbing up onto her horse.

His eyes widened as he watched her. “Since when did you get a sword? And how did you know it was there?”

“I put it there because I’ve been training with it. Come on. We need to reach them before they get to the boats.”

Tristan still paused, eyeing her like he didn’t know who he was looking at. But he dismissed it; there were more pressing matters at hand.

Rain battered the night sky as they raced toward the front gate, already drenched from the heavy droplets. Though the weather would slow them down, she prayed it would do the same for the phoenix.

Just as they were about to pass through the gates, a servant rushed to Tristan, startling his horse into an abrupt halt.

“I nearly ran you over,” Tristan hissed. “Move!”

“Sir, there is a woman here; she says it’s urgent,” the servant explained.

“I have no time.”

The servant didn’t budge. “But sir, it’s the caretaker of the phoenix.”

Rose’s eyes widened as she and Tristan exchanged awestruck glances.

It was a miracle.

She dismounted her horse at once.

“Take us to her,” Tristan ordered, following suit.

They entered the grand hall just minutes later, rainwater dripping a trail from their cloaks. Rose let out a breath in relief when she saw the phoenix perched at the head table with its caretaker beside it.

The woman had wild, curly black hair, save for the one white streak framing her face, the length of it almost reaching her hips. Her skin was so pale and smooth that it resembled porcelain. Her bright blue eyes seemed to hold the knowledge they would come in haste, unalarmed at their abrupt entry.

“Your Highness,” the woman greeted Tristan first with a respectful bow. “I am Ingrid, caretaker of the phoenix.”

“How did you know we’d need you?” Tristan asked.

“I didn’t.” Ingrid’s light, airy eyes glided to the phoenix. “He did. He wouldn’t let me leave. He sensed that after tonight’s events, he would be needed.”

Rose studied the creature with wonder. They were brilliant, majestic creatures, to be sure, said to roam the skies centuries ago.

They possessed incredible healing and regrowth properties alongside their ability to cut or destroy practically anything.

And, of course, they were best known for being capable of rising from their own ashes, born new again.

The phoenix’s intense, vivid-yellow eyes stared back at her.

“He’s been waiting for you,” Ingrid said to her.

“We need help,” Rose explained, looking between phoenix and Ingrid, unsure who to address. “Tristan’s brother saved him from an arrow dipped in Dragonshade, but it scratched his arm. He’s growing weaker and weaker by the moment. I fear he’ll not last until morning.”

The caretaker knew what they desired. “And you want the phoenix to heal him?”

“Yes,” Tristan said. “Whatever your price, we’ll pay it.”

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. “I cannot speak for the phoenix, as he chooses to do as he wishes. But I can tell you he’ll require something in return. And only he will decide how that debt is paid.”

Rose studied the phoenix with hesitancy. “Does it speak?”

Ingrid nodded once, her mystical eyes glowing. “In his own way.”

Tristan addressed the phoenix now. “Will you help us?”

A heavy silence filled the room, holding their breath. Finally, the phoenix nodded, its brilliant, smooth feathers ruffling gracefully. Its curved orange beak sharpened to a lethal point.

“What is it you want in return?” Rose asked, knowing something so valuable as a phoenix tear would not come without a price.

The phoenix’s eyes rested on her, its essence brushing against her mind. She stepped back involuntarily at the contact.

The phoenix’s smooth, silken voice resonated deep within her mind.

I know who you are, Rosalie Versalles, the phoenix said, even if you do not.

I can see into your past, present, and future; your path is not easy, but vital for our realm.

You and you alone will have to face an ancient enemy to safeguard the future of Vallor.

You are a kindred spirit, Rosalie. For this reason, I require a simple favor.

I grow near the end of my life cycle, and I need you to help me as I am reborn.

Her breath caught. To be a part of phoenix’s rebirth was a privilege only given to individuals like Ingrid, who were sworn to protect them.

She spoke back with her thoughts. I don’t understand. How can I do that?

You see, during my last rebirth, I was caught in a trap and injured during the transformation.

Ingrid saved me, but my wing has never fully recovered.

He lifted his wing to reveal a crooked bone that had healed incorrectly.

I’ve been unable to fly ever since. We are incredibly vulnerable during the rebirth, and if I am to emerge healed and stronger, I will need more than Ingrid’s help. I would ask you to sing as I am reborn.

Rose’s joints locked. She stared into the phoenix’s yellow eyes as if sensing he knew what he asked of her. She hadn’t sung a note since… since her father died. She had promised she’d never do it again. Her voice felt tainted and ugly. Misused and evil.

You want me to sing? How would that help mend your wing? I don’t possess the power you seek.

Sing and find out , was all the phoenix said.

She lowered her gaze. She didn’t know how her voice could make a difference, but it was a simple request, and if singing alone could save Roman, how could she refuse?

The creature awaited her answer with bright eyes. She simply replied, Okay .

Then it is agreed. Tears for a song, the phoenix said.

“He’s agreed, but he’s asked for something in return,” Rose said, summarizing the conversation to Tristan.

Tristan’s face contorted, glancing at the phoenix and then back to her. “What does he want?”

“He wants me to sing,” she replied simply.

The phoenix turned to Ingrid, lowered its head, and blinked.

Ingrid nodded, going to a large oak chest sitting on one of the tables.

She pulled out what appeared to be a nest made of various twigs and materials.

Ingrid placed the nest gently on the table and then took a small jar containing what she assumed were ashes.

Ingrid opened the jar and sprinkled the dust over the nest.

Come , the phoenix commanded.

With steady steps, she left Tristan’s side and approached the bird.

He gazed at her, prompting her to extend her right arm.

Slowly, the phoenix perched upon it, its talons gripping gently but with a strength that she knew could rip off her arm if he wanted to.

It took the whole strength of her arm to bear his weight, but she held firm.

His vivid-yellow eyes watched her closely as he blinked expectantly.

What should I sing? she asked.

Something from your heart .

She stopped wracking her brain and took a deep mental breath, closing her eyes to search in her heart instead. The phoenix raised his wings up, revealing his beautiful ombré plumage, while he closed his eyes.

And then she sang a poem she’d read years ago.

In the depths of night,

darkness reigns supreme,

lost in the shadows of a

long-forgotten dream.

But within the quiet whispers of the night,

an ember starts to glow,

from the ashes of the past,

a new life begins to grow.

A radiant glow surrounded the phoenix, becoming brighter with every word she sang.

Rise from the ashes,

phoenix in the sky.

With wings of flame and courage

we’ll watch you soar and fly,

from the embers of your heart,

a new dawn will rise.

Rise from the ashes,

phoenix in the sky,

and reach beyond the clouds.

With every breath, comes a promise

of strength that never dies.

Rise from the ashes,

phoenix, rise.

The glow transformed into a searing flame, so hot it was as if the sun itself had spilled onto her arm, so blinding she had to shut her eyes.

Her arm shook under the weight, but she refused to let it fall.

The phoenix’s flame moved up her arm, engulfing her entire body, its power making its way through her veins—so encompassing, she feared she might burn to ash with it.

But as soon as the blinding light ceased, so did the burning in her veins.

Rose slowly opened one eye to find her arm still in the air, but the phoenix was gone.

She peered down at the large pile of ash that now sat in the nest. A suspenseful silence settled as she stared at the pile of ash in hope.

The ash stirred as a small head appeared, revealing gold feathers and large amber eyes.

The phoenix was just a baby, but every bit as majestic and grand as he was before.

He shook off the remnants of the ashes, leaving the brilliant bird gleaming gold, shiny, and pure.

The phoenix examined his wings as he spread them wide, revealing the damaged wing had healed.

She’d done it.

The phoenix let out a triumphant cry as he flapped his wings, launching himself into the air, soaring as a puff of ashes trailed behind.

A broad smile filled Rose’s face, and she felt lighter than she had in ages.

Free, even. Like she could spread her arms and fly herself.

Perhaps it was the lingering magic of the phoenix in her body, but deep down, she sensed it was something more profound.

The phoenix returned, settling once more on her arm.

Just as you have healed me, you have healed yourself.

Your gifts are not evil; they can be used for great good.

Even in the darkest of times, you must remember that the small choices we make every day reveal who we truly are, not what we are foretold to be. We become only what we believe we are.

She hadn’t even realized she was crying until she felt a warm tear trickle down her cheek.

Your friend needs you , the phoenix said.

With the phoenix still perched on her arm, she turned to Tristan. “We’ll need something to hold the tears.”

Ingrid was the one to step in. “I have something.” She reached into the oak chest and, a moment later, handed a small vial to Tristan.

Despite appearing as if he’d encountered a ghost, Tristan stepped forward, emerging from his daze. He retrieved the vial from Ingrid and carefully presented it to the small phoenix. The creature leaned in, allowing a graceful, glistening silver tear to roll down his cheek. One… two… three tears.

Mix them with water and make sure he drinks all of it, the phoenix instructed.

“Thank you,” she replied.

And thank you. You should go, the phoenix said in parting. Dragonshade moves quickly.

Tristan bowed before the phoenix. “Thank you—both of you. The crown will never forget this.”

“I would thank your friend.” Ingrid’s mystical eyes landed on Rose. “A phoenix’s tears come at no small price.”

With the flask in hand, Tristan made for the door.

Ingrid’s voice stopped her from following. “Whatever the phoenix told you, you would do well to remember it. Advice from magical creatures like a phoenix will bless you if you do.”

“I’ll never forget,” Rose reassured her. She couldn’t even if she wanted to.

Ingrid gave a gentle smile in farewell. “I hope you do; good luck, fair one.”