Page 158 of A Flame of the Phoenix

The danger of what she was doing wasn’t lost on her. Nightwalking was not without severe risk, and what she was attempting was against all moral code of the Spirit-given ability. Her magick rebelled in her veins, a scream tore from her throat,but Faythe pulled the threads together. Their frayed edges sparked against each other, each finite strand fusing together.

When it was about to finish, Faythe was slammed into by a force so great she propelled back endlessly. She gasped and flailed to catch herself from drifting into oblivion. The moment she saw her way back—a prominent gold fiber in the web of infinite mental connections—Faythe reached desperately for it.

As soon as she touched her mind link, Faythe was pulled back into her own subconscious, falling to her hands and knees and blinking down at the gold-and-gray mists weaving through her splayed fingers.

Had she done it?

Faythe couldn’t be sure. She had to wake up, but she was so tired, giving in to the weakness of her body as it crumpled in a heap.

Something was tugging her consciousness. The familiar pull of someone trying to wake her up. Faythe resisted for as long as she could, but they weren’t giving in.

With a deep inhale, when Faythe opened her eyes, she was back in her physical body, fully awake. Faythe heard a voice across the room, and her head lolled. She didn’t find the source of the conversation; instead her body stiffened when her eyes fell upon Captain Daegal, whose eyes fluttered open.

Faythe couldn’t move when their eyes met. She waited in anticipation.

Hewinkedat her.

It had worked. Nyte now had full control of the captain’s body, and once he left it…Daegal would be dead.

Faythe couldn’t say she felt an ounce of regret for killing him.

Nyte pushed himself up, his expression turning frightening. He lunged for Faythe, yanking her up by the scruff of her clothing and slamming her to the wall. He was only upon her for a few seconds before he was ripped away. Nyte grunted whenZaiana instead pushed him against the wall, angling a blade to his neck.

Was his violence for show as the captain, or had she been a fool and Nyte’s aggression toward was genuine?

Her mind spun, and her heart raced, staring at the stand-off between Nyte and Zaiana.

They stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Zaiana’s brow twitched, and she scanned his face. Faythe’s pulse was erratic—it had to be her own paranoia that detected the confusion and suspicion Zaiana wore. One second she was ready to slice his throat; the next she’d pushed off him, backing a long step up as if he would burst into flame.

“You’re ruining the fun.”

That voice.

A searing white rage overcame Faythe in an instant, and the moment she saw Maverick Blackfair…all she knew was vengeance. All she saw was him standing behind her father, his sword plunged straight through him.

He took her father from her.

Faythe’s magick left her palms before any rational thought could intervene. Maverick’s blue fire exploded into it, but her light was stronger, blasting him right through the stone wall.

She lost herself to a state of mind she’d only felt once before. The moment Maverick had killed her father. This place sharpened every emotion to a weapon that made her feel unstoppable.

Faythe found Maverick retreating over a pile of rocks, and she didn’t think twice before sending another attack. Over the pulse in her ears and the electric blast of power, she thought someone might have called her name. That wasn’t enough to take even a fraction of her attention off her target. She destroyed another wall, taking them into the body of the castle, where ruins were made of glass and white marble.

She didn’t know how she was moving so fast to keep up with Maverick, who was stillalive.

“You’re a coward,” she roared in anguish to him.

He ran like one. Killed like one. Faythe didn’t care about his life as the Prince of Dalrune, nor that Nik wanted to see him one last time. Faythehadto kill him.

She didn’t expect the dark fae who’d killed her, then her father, to be so bold as to show his face to her again, so closely within reach. What enraged her more was how casual he appeared. His days went on with nothing changed, while her father would never see another. Would never get to spend another withher,rebuilding all they’d lost over their estranged years.

Faythe’s grief was the only thing to dampen the urgency of her pursuit. She lost sight of Maverick, but her power was screaming inside her to find him and make him feel what she was.

“You have to stop!” Zaiana called.

The darkest side of Faythe perked up at her voice. She turned, realizing she didn’t need to find Maverick—the greatest way to hurt him was by hurting Zaiana. When she met those purple eyes watching her with wary disbelief, the first sensation of doubt crept through her.

Faythe needed Zaiana. She didn’t know exactly why—maybe she would never figure that out—but even back when they had the dark fae captive in Rhyenelle cells, Faythe had never celebrated that fact as capturing the enemy but capturing the most unexpected kernel ofhope.

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