Page 116 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“How would they know? Valgard might have them beat, and it remains a mystery.”

Kyleer huffed, finding a bucket of water to wash the blood off his hands as best he could.

“You’re dark fae—an esteemed one at that, unless that was a lie—and you’ve never been east across the sea where your people came from?”

“I’ve never had reason to.”

He hummed curiously, drying his hands and returning. He picked up the bite-sized aforementioned irresistible fish pie and threw it into his mouth.

“Still, I would have thought you curious.”

“My curiosity doesn’t matter. I was a soldier—you know how it is. We go where we are stationed.”

His eyes lit up as he chewed, and he immediately retrieved another pie. Two of them, in fact. One he offered to Zaiana. She wanted to refuse out of nothing more than pettiness, but since she’d stabbed him, she supposed she could be a little nicer.

“You have wings. Surely you could have flown over at least once in your lifetime.”

In truth, she’d never really desired to. Zaiana ate the fish pie in one mouthful, and the flavor explosion on her tongue surprised her. She’d never been one to admire food—it was just sustenance and often short in supply for most of her years under the mountain. But for the minute it took her to chew, she thought of nothing but this simple pleasure, wondering if there would ever come days to enjoy such trivial things for longer.

She found Kyleer watching her, with a pleased smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Your face told me all,” he said.

Zaiana hopped off the counter. “You should get that wound dressed while you have the chance. I’m sure your fae admirers would gladly aid you.”

“Not one to clean up your own mess?”

“You are not my mess. You’re nothing to me.”

Those words were icy, and it wiped any kindness from his expression. Every time she was the cause of his upset, it twisted within her. Infuriating.

Zaiana made to leave. “If you’re not here when I get back in ten minutes, that wound will be the least mess I make of you.”

“I could take that in far more enticing ways.”

He didn’t see her glower since he invested his efforts into inhaling the plate of food. Zaiana left him, passing the kitchen staff and lingering her warning on them too.

Zaiana just needed a moment to breathe away from the commander. After weeks forced to be close to him, she felt his presence like a layer of skin. He was all over her even when he’d hardly touched her. The worst thing about it was, she was beginning to grow antsy that he wouldn’t be her problem anymore soon. Even though all they did was argue, she had to sever the threads of attachment that were linking between them again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Faythe

Faythe couldn’t reach the last of her dress ties on her back. She arched and struggled, growing frustrated and ultimately letting go. Her head bowed, hardly able to stand the unnecessary spectacle she was being made to wear.

The gown was ruby-red, with crystals that glinted like spilled fresh blood down her bodice. She couldn’t shake the ominous thought. Her hair had been pinned back with dozens of red-jeweled hairpins too.

She let her sight drift over the bright, snowy mountain and cityscape through the single wall of glass in this room. Her breath was stolen every time she glimpsed such purity and innocence—a vision of peace or a tragedy of obliviousness, Faythe couldn’t decide.

Faythe’s sight snapped back to the mirror when fingers brushed her back. She found Reylan in the reflection, resuming the ties she’d abandoned. He didn’t hide his appearance anymore, and while she was glad, her heart permanently ached to watch him so emotionless.

“Why hasn’t Marvellas greeted me yet? I thought she’d be most eager.”

“Youshouldn’t be,” he said, his voice stripped of any feeling.

Faythe swallowed down her grief. “She’s masterful at hiding,” she said, watching his face to catch any hint.

“She has to be.”

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