Page 110 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Tarly sealed his lips against that. He wouldn’t divulge any of their whereabouts to this traitor.

Callen huffed with a cruel smile. “Not doing a very great job of convincing me you’re actually here to join our cause. They should have sent a better liar.”

“I don’t know where any of them are,” Tarly snapped.

“Then how do you know about Tauria?”

Shit, maybe he was terrible at this.

“She was taken to Fenstead before that. The word of a returning princess is bound to spread fast. My guess? Nik has gone after her, but I wouldn’t know where he’s been all this time.”

Callen hummed. “Good attempt. Now let’s go.”

He was brought to a room in the far west side of the castle. Guards became less, which was surprising if he was being led to Jakon and Marlowe. He’d have thought Faythe’s allies, as Callen still called them, would be under closer supervision. It made him think they didn’t want the knowledge of the Phoenix Blood to be made public yet.

Callen welcomed himself through a door, and Tarly found a man with dark brown hair and a blonde woman. He’d never really met them before, only seen them briefly when they’d infiltrated the Olmstone castle with Nik to help stop Tauria and Mordecai’s wedding. He’d thought that incredibly courageous of two humans.

They were in one of the kitchens, with the room entirely to themselves for this task. Many vials of clear and red liquids were scattered across the table, along with various herbs, containers, and equipment.

The blonde woman sat at the bench, her eyes lifting at their intrusion, and they were so hollow and tired that he pitied the human, who was clearly being forced to work beyond her magickal capabilities. Her skin was pale and sickly, and the human man didn’t seem much better. Only, his deterioration was purely out of concern for her.

“This is how two people working to grant your side an astronomical upper hand are treated?” Tarly said in distain. He had no emotional attachment to the humans, but their neglect stirred his anger.

“She is the one pushing herself,” Callen countered.

There was broken glass and spilled glittering crimson against the walls and over various counters, as if every attempt she’d failed had ended in a slip of violent frustration. It seemed so unlike the gentle nature he’d heard of, but this was war, and war broke even the calmest of souls.

“What are you doing here?” Jakon directed this at him.

Callen clapped a hand to his—mercifully—good shoulder. “You have yourselves a new eager helper.”

Jakon didn’t shed a fraction of his distaste or hostility. It was no matter—Tarly was well-acquainted with needing to be in places where he wasn’t wanted.

“How are the potions coming along?” Callen asked, weirdly cheerful. He strolled into the room, one hand in his pocket, while the other swiped one of a dozen vials of crimson liquid. When he shook the contents, it swirled like liquid stardust.

“She’s doing all she can,” Jakon said through his teeth.

Callen tutted. “Not good enough, I’m afraid. There’s only so much patience Malin has, and let me tell you, it really isn’t a lot.”

“It doesn’t help that he’s taking vials for himself so often. She can hardly keep up,” Jakon snapped.

Callen shrugged. “This is his operation.”

“How many is he expecting?” Tarly asked.

“Enough to heighten an army of magick wielders.”

Tarly surveyed the amount created—a few dozen. It seemed a ludicrous expectation.

“Aren’t there others with the same magick to help her?”

“We’ve been scouting, but the human mages are a long dead breed. Most never even know what they’re capable of, so they’reimpossible to pick up on. Others are very well adept at keeping hidden.”

Tarly couldn’t understand why the human would accept this task alone. Faythe was adamant Jakon and Marlowe hadn’t truly betrayed her; that Marlowe—anoracle—had a greater plan she had no choice but to trust in. Yet at this display, Tarly was beginning to wonder if that had been a lie and their betrayal was true.

“This one is active?” Callen asked, still admiring the bottle.

“Yes,” Marlowe said, her voice barely a broken whisper.

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