Page 143 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“He’s your friend?”

“Yes.”

“What’s he hoping to achieve in Rhyenelle’s castle?”

The healer’s eyes snapped up to Zaiana with shock. When she processed what Zaiana said, it filtered from confusion to concernthenanger.She’d never seen so many emotions flick across a person’s face so fast.

“That damn sullen bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

Again, Zaiana thought she was in the company of an entirely different fae for a second, but she quite enjoyed Nerida’s spirited side.

Nerida ran an exasperated hand over her forehead. “I didn’t know that was where he’d run off to. He was supposed to come with me, but the stubborn prince is determined to accept his fate.”

“He’s dying,” Zaiana concluded.

The heartbreak that fell over Nerida as she looked away tensed Zaiana still. She cared for the prince. More than just as a friend.

“He’s not, he’s just…he’s going to be fine.” She sniffed, squaring her shoulders to suppress her grief.

Zaiana felt for her. The worst pain always came from harm to loved ones, not to ourselves. It was once again a reminder of how vulnerable and exhausting love was.

“You won’t like my only suggestion,” Zaiana said, as gentle as she could.

Nerida glanced at her with misplaced hope.

“Have you considered attempting to Transition him to dark fae?”

Her shock and denial were immediate. “No. He would never want that.”

“Want isn’t his luxury anymore.”

Nerida’s eyes glistened, and Zaiana had an unexplainable urge to make them stop filling with sorrow.

“He would rather die. He would rather leave me than become that.”

Zaiana was torn between pity and envy to watch how affected Nerida was by another person.

“Then he’s no survivor, and this world isn’t built for people like that.”

Her words were harsh, but they were the truth. Nerida stood, pacing away.

“He’s survived a lot,” she argued.

“I don’t doubt it. Many have, and they become too tired to keep fighting.”

“What about me?” Her voice cracked, and Zaiana was beginning to despise the prince for upsetting her. “I’m tired too, but I’mhere.”

“If he cared as much for you as you clearly do for him, he would want to keep fighting regardless of the pain.” Zaiana pushed herself up, turning to the fae. “Spare your heart, Nerida. The kind you harbor is rare in this world of spoiled and tainted love.”

Nerida’s face turned determined. “I can’t,” she said firmly. “Iwon’tgive up on him.”

“Some people don’t want to be saved, and there is nothing we can do.”

“We can keep reaching out a hand,” she snapped. It wasn’t just in regard to Tarly now. Zaiana felt the accusation in that statement.

Zaiana let ice form over the warmth that had started to flutter around Nerida. She couldn’t pretend to be good, to decide today that she could forget all she’d done and aid the tragic heroes.

“Then don’t be surprised when the hand that reaches back drags you down instead.”

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