Page 10 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“Perhaps a drink might help,” Kyleer suggested.

Faythe nodded, trying to reciprocate his smile, but her mouth refused to pretend.

Kyleer glanced down the alley, where quiet whimpers of the wingless dark fae still echoed.

“That’s the third you’ve done that to,” he commented as they turned from him.

“I won’t have her forgetting for a moment that I’m coming.”

There were days she felt her world crumbling. She would walk and walk until her steps stumbled, as if she’d come to a cliff edge, about to collapse. Times when she would wake and gravityno longer felt like an anchor. Moments air refused to fill her lungs, and her mind was convinced she was drowning on land.

Every time, she would remember all over again that Reylan was not with her. That her father, Agalhor Ashfyre, was dead. And her mighty kingdom lay in evil hands.

“Still no luck reaching him through Nightwalking?” Kyleer asked.

Her fists tightened. “No. It’s like he’s…gone.” Her throat tightened with pain. “Or she’s taken him too far for me to even reach a small essence of a clue as to where she might be holding him.”

“It seems our obvious choice is Valgard.”

A chill swept over her at the conclusion they’d circled before. It seemed the most viable option, but her gut couldn’t settle on it. They’d sent spies to try to reach the enemy island east, but none had returned. Faythe had tracked down as many dark fae as she could while they were actively hunting for her, trying forsomereassurance it wouldn’t be time wasted if she went to Valgard herself—a path that, should it be wrong, could cost her Reylan.

At least in remaining here until they could find something to give them hope for a way to him, she was training, leading, helping to keep their armies strong, and strategizing tirelessly for ways to take Ellium back. It soothed a small part of her to be productive in a way Reylan would be proud of until she found a course to him.

“Maybe we should split up,” she suggested.

“That’s not an option,” Kyleer said firmly.

It was a weak suggestion, but she was so tired—and terrified—of choosing wrong.

“We’ll try to hunt more darklings tomorrow for information,” Kyleer said, with an inkling of hope she couldn’t muster anymore.

She gave a nod regardless.

“I miss him,” she said, realizing another absence, a more permanent one, also softening the ground her own grave was being dug in with every footstep. “Both of them.”

The hopeful future she’d dreamed of in her father’s company had always been painted in watercolor, but now it was drowning, washing away scene by scene what would never be.

Her absolute determination not to lose her mate too had become a powerful suppressant for that anguish. The will to do her father proud kept her active and engrossed in battle plans for the kingdom.

Kyleer shared her grief in tangible waves as he said, “Me too.”

There were two halves to the heart of Rhyenelle since she’d laid her claim, and without Reylan, she feared it might be forever lost.

“I would feel if he…? I mean, you said you did?—”

Gods, how could she even ask that of him? Her selfishness silenced the thought, but Kyleer knew what she’d wanted to say.

“Yes,” he answered. Kyleer gave a smile to shadow his hurt from the past. “Even without a completed mating bond, you’ve been forging a tie to him since you met…again,” he added with a quirk of amusement. “I felt it when Greia died. With your bond to Reylan having been formed over more time and stronger, I can’t imagine you wouldn’t, even being so far apart.“

It was the relief she needed in her time of turmoil. Reylan was alive.

“Maybe we should go back to Ellium ourselves,” she said.

“We checked a week ago. He’s not there.”

“The others are.”

She watched the lines on his face firm. Though she didn’t mention Izaiah, she knew it was he who struck him in that moment.

---