Page 11 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“Marlowe couldn’t tell me why, but she told me she created the Phoenix Blood for Malin, and that he plans to have her spell the others.”

“Then they’re traitors.”

Faythe winced, but she couldn’t blame his observation.

“Her gift is a heavy burden. She can often risk harm more than help should she make the wrong move with what she’s seen.”

Faythe’s heart was split, trusting her two friends while also carrying a sting of resentment. She had to see them and had mulled over the idea of infiltrating the castle again, but their scouts had strongly advised against it with the forces of the dark fae and the new defenses they’d implemented.

Malin knew she was reckless enough to think of attempting a return too soon.

“Why wouldn’t Izaiah have told me?” Kyleer said.

Faythe had no answers, only the fleeting recollection of Izaiah’s last words, which hadn’t been very reassuring.

“Tell Kyleer, for once in our lives, I was one step ahead.”

What was Izaiah planning?

They entered an inn, keeping their hoods up.

The bustling establishment lingered little attention on them as they headed to the front to order a drink. It was exactly what Faythe needed to curb the sharp edges of her anxiety.

They’d barely had time to deeply reflect on all that had happened before they fled Ellium. Kyleer had been as closed off as she these past few weeks.

“What happened—?” Faythe tried carefully. “In those cells, before everything went to shit. Zaiana made me believe she’d killed you.”

The air threatened to choke her at the mere recollection of that grief.

Kyleer gave a twitch of a smile, a wince of his pain, staring into the ale-soaked wood of the bar. “You were right,” he said, detached, but his hurt weaved through her. “You were all right. Dead hearts can’t beat, and I fell for the foolish notion she would yield something different to me.”

Faythe leaned on the bar with him. Her head fell to his shoulder.

“For what it’s worth, I think she did.”

“You don’t have to try to make me feel better about my lapse of judgment.”

“I’m not. When we took to the skies, even through my rage, I believed her true self had surfaced in those moments we were both preparing to go down. I think?—”

“Don’t,” he said softly. “She betrayed us all. I won’t forgive that.”

Faythe sighed with the weight of sorrow they both carried.

She straightened when two tankards were placed in front of them, but as she reached for hers, Faythe’s back curved with a strike of alarm at the prick against her spine. Kyleer hissed with a similar reaction at the threat behind them. Bold, in an establishment so packed. Who would risk confrontation here?

“Please state your name and business.”

Every sound in the room was stolen completely, leaving only those words on repeat. Ones from a distant memory. In a voice she would treasure until the end of her days.

Faythe’s eyes stung.

She couldn’t move. Even when the blade was removed from her back and she knew who she would find. The impossibility of it taunted it was only a trick.

Her heart thumped so hard it stole her breath.

Grief, heartache, yearning—it all threatened to bring her to her knees before she could turn around.

“Faythe,” he said gently.

---