Page 162 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Tarly knew Nik’s ability was strong, but still he wondered if Marlowe had imbued more magick into the potions she’d made for Nik, unwittingly or not.

“Why is he taking it so often?” Tarly asked.

“It’s helping him twist the minds of suspicious council members or reluctant generals. He’s slipping his control. He’s been taking these potions almost daily,” Izaiah answered.

Jakon said, “So our only concern is Malin right now. None of us have access to his council to know what he’s been planning throughout Rhyenelle, and to gauge the extent of his tarnishing of Faythe’s name with them.”

“You’re speaking as if we’re all on the same side here,” Tarly said apprehensively, with a deliberate glance at the two dark fae in the room.

It was Marlowe who said, “We can stop pretending we aren’t. I’ve seen it—that’s all I can say. We don’t need to know the specifics of why, but none of us have switched allegiance.”

“You’re bold to admit that with us here,” Tynan said.

“No, I’m still right. Your allegiance has always been to Zaiana, and you know there’s been a shift coming with her, even if it hasn’t fully locked in her mind yet.”

No one objected to that statement. Everything he’d heard about the notorious dark fae, including his short encounter with her, told him the opposite of Marlowe’s judgment. But what did he know?

“Where has she scuttled off to?” Izaiah asked Tynan curiously.

The dark fae pursed his lips, clearly in turmoil if trusting the people in this room was disobeying an order from Zaiana—or helping her.

“All I know is that she discovered our still hearts are a curse, and she wants answers.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, and everyone knew it. Tynan knewexactlywhereZaiana had gone to start looking. No one pressed further on the answer that was satisfactory enough.

“The threads of Marvellas’s lies and manipulation are starting to unravel, it seems,” Izaiah said.

“Once you achieve what you need here, you need to go to High Farrow,” Marlowe said.

“What does High Farrow have to do with any of this?” Izaiah asked.

“Everything. It’s where it all began, and it’s where it has to end.”

Her words lingered an ominous foreboding between them all.

Izaiah said, “Can we get a when, all-knowing oracle?”

“Don’t mock her,” Jakon warned.

“For all we know, she’s standing there with the answers to all our problems.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“It’s fine, Jak,” Marlowe said.

“It’s not,” Jakon snapped, silencing the room with his anger. “None of you have a damn clue what her ability even means or how it works, so instead of pointing accusations, work on your own plots to get out of here alive.”

“You can achieve it,” Marlowe said, her sight fixed on Izaiah. The fae’s jaw shifted to an answer no one else knew the question to. “But even if you conquer power, the bigger challenge will be not to lose yourself.”

Izaiah pushed off the bench. “Thanks for the advice,” he grumbled, nearly setting Jakon off again.

Tarly stiffened when Marlowe’s gaze shifted to him. “You’ve been deceived as meticulously as the dark fae have about their hearts. I think you know it too. You just have to figure out how.”

Tarly’s chest thumped wildly. She couldn’t mean… No. His mind scrambled, not fully present for her next words.

“There are infinite ends to this war, and few of them are triumphant in Faythe’s favor. She is the one, and if she falls, we all fall. But she cannot rise without us.”

The tale of Faythe Ashfyre was certainly one to rival fiction, but he was somewhat honored to be written into the story, however small. It was why he had to leave Nerida, but also why he was determined to return to her for however many days he had left by the time he reached her. All he could hope for now was to make it to the end, just to see a glimpse of the better world promised by the most unlikely of people.

---