Page 142 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“I wouldn’t go as far as that. I doubt Faythe, Kyleer, or any of them would ever trust me as an ally anyway. But I need answers, and I will make her pay.”

“You might not have a lot of time left.”

“What are you planning with Faythe on the inside?” Zaiana asked. Trickles of foreboding slithered through her.

Nerida retrieved two teacups, but the fact she didn’t answer confirmed something to Zaiana anyway. Faythe knew Nerida was here. Had the healer been tracking them since Rhyenelle?

She accepted the steaming cup of tea Nerida offered. The scent relaxed her, with notes of jasmine and honey. The cup warmed her palms while she gave a soft sigh at the gentle caress of the first sip.

Zaiana said, “I get it. You can’t trust me, and I can’t really trust you. But let me tell you, Maverick is here, and he is not one to hesitate with mercy.”

“Callen Osirion,” Nerida said. The alternative name was still jarring to Zaiana, but she nodded. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize sooner.”

“How could you have?”

Nerida dropped her sight into her cup. She changed the topic. “I’ve only been able to get to the cells. I didn’t expect Marvellas would use the tower. Kyleer told me what she did to Faythe. It’s barbaric.”

Even Zaiana agreed. She’d built a tolerance to Niltain steel, but if someone embedded it in her flesh like Marvellas did with Faythe and the Magestone, Zaiana didn’t know if she’d be so resilient then.

Nerida’s gaze turned hopeful when it flicked back up to Zaiana. “If you want to help, you could make sure she doesn’t break Faythe’s spirit. You’re the only one who can check on her for us.”

“I can’t offer anything to keep Faythe from breaking. In fact, my recurring presence might have the opposite effect.”

“You’re wrong.”

“You can’t say that. You don’t know all I’ve done. There is no forgiveness for me.”

“You can’t trust. I understand why, but you underestimate compassion.”

“No one has any reason to offer me that.”

“Compassion doesn’t form from reason but from understanding. Don’t think about them forgiving you—think about how everyone harbors demons and has committed actions they’re not proud of. There are parts of you in them, just as much as there’s part of them in you.”

She didn’t know who they were speaking of anymore. No one at all, actually. Only the good versus the bad, how nothing was wholly either.

“I don’t know how to…help.” Zaiana tasted that word with bitter hope.

“It’s a scale. It balances trust and requires you reach out a hand, or to take the one that’s offered to you.”

Zaiana thought of Kyleer, and for once she didn’t hate herself for it. Even though she’d betrayed him, even in all her attempts to make him see her as a monster, his hand had never fully retreated from her.

Then she also thought of Maverick. He’d killed Faythe in her place, then he’d killed the King of Rhyenelle instead of her. Had she fulfilled her roles, she would be condemned in the eyes of Faythe, Kyleer, and all of them. Instead it was Maverick who’d taken the target of their wrath, and how could she pretend she was any better?

No—Zaiana couldn’t side with them. She couldn’t hide in the shadow of Maverick’s acts.

“A Transitioned dark fae bite on a fae…” Nerida began, her voice reducing with pain. “Do you know of its effects? If there’s a cure?”

Zaiana didn’t expect the question. “I’ve never seen it before, but I’ve heard of Transitioned dark fae killing fae with their bite. There’s a certain poison in it—a lethal consequence of defying the laws nature set, I suppose.”

“What about a cure?” Nerida prompted again. Her hazel eyes were so sad Zaiana pitied her.

“Who was bitten?”

She studied her fingers fiddling with the loose threads of her skirt.

“Tarly Wolverlon.”

Well, that name had unexpectedly slammed her with confusion twice now. She hadn’t cared to get close enough to him to detect anything wrong.

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