Page 118 of A Flame of the Phoenix

The table, a proud slate of white marble, was filled with a feast far too much for just two of them, and Faythe had no appetite with her storm of emotions. At the side of the hall, Faythe almost lost her composure to see Kyleer as the first break in the tranquil illusion, a roughed-up sight. Unlike Faythe, who had been bathed and presented, he was still in his Rhyenelle attire, but what quickly threatened her volatility was the scent of his blood. Faythe glanced at his crimson-stained hands clutching a wound on his side, then she targeted an accusatory glare on Zaiana that was met with cool disinterest.

She was already struggling to contain herself, but the queen merely kept eating. It was almost as if Faythe had disturbed her feast and she was used to dining alone.

“Lakelaria is more magnificent than we’re told,” Faythe said, testing the conversation.

Those hazel irises slipped to her, lingering long enough to weigh every word Faythe spoke as if searching for tricks in them.

“This is what peace looks like,” Iana said with pride.

“There are no humans,” Faythe observed calmly.“I didn’t see any on our short venture around the city.”

A flex of the porcelain skin around her eyes spoke of suspicion. “There are some, but you are right. Lakelaria is mostly populated by fae.”

Some.Yet Faythe hadn’t seen a single one.

“I am new to my position. Court and politics. History.” Faythe picked up her drink, needing to soothe her drying throat. “But I had a friend tell me some things about your kingdom once. I am sorry to hear of the passing of your daughter.”

The queen’s chin rose a fraction. “It was a long time ago,” she said coldly.

Everything about her repelled company and conversation.

Faythe pushed a little more. “Around two hundred years ago. She would have only been past her first century. She was to be married right before it happened.”

The pauses between the queen’s engagement raced in Faythe’s chest.

“Yes. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of her.”

Lies.All Faythe could hear was deception, and her composure was shaking.

The queen wore sleeves that extended over her hands, and her neckline was always high on her throat. Faythe watched her hand reach for her goblet.

“The food will be getting cold,” Iana said.

Faythe didn’t respond to that. Instead she had to take a risk.

“Nikalias met you when he was young.” Her nerves were betraying her now.

Iana set her cup down, and there was a hint of suspicion in her pause. “Yes. I believe I visited his kingdom.”

“He seems to recall you had blue eyes. I guess, being in his youth, he might not have recounted the details so well.”

They were hazel, and as Faythe stared right into them, she thought they flicked a brighter hue.

“The young prince was hardly present during my visit.”

Faythe hummed, but her skin prickled. Then she had no patience left and threw all caution to the wind.

The knife in her hand spun through the air for a mere heartbeat, heading straight for the queen…

Thump.

The queen moved her head just in time. The blade pierced the back of her chair, inches from her eyeline.

Faythe couldn’t stop now.

The guards in black advanced, but Faythe yanked the tablecloth, sending everything sprawling from it, before her palm slammed to the table and a flare of her gold magick cracked across the surface, breaking the table apart.

Iana never summoned her legendary Waterwielding abilities.

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