Page 169 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Zaiana curled her fingers around one of the bars. “I enjoy flying. I often enjoy killing. Watching you sit in a pitiful heap…I’m not finding much of a thrill, no.”

Kyleer’s smile was a blade, and his laughter pointed the knife.

“What have they sent you here for? To see if my weakness for you is still there? Tell them to skip straight to the physical stuff.”

Her jaw worked. He assumed she was here by Marvellas’s order. Zaiana didn’t correct him. The Spirit was so concerned with Faythe right now that Zaiana wondered if she’d forgotten the leverage she had with him against the heir.

“I warned you not to fall for me,” she said.

“I didn’t. Not really. I fell for your performance.”

Zaiana tried to ignore the tightening in her stomach with that. “Why are you such a fool to have gotten yourself captured?”

“Don’t waste your breath, Zai. You’re far too smart to believe I’ll tell you anything after what you did.”

“I thought you were smarter than this,” she said.

“The truth is something incomprehensible to you.” He stood, and the resounding clank of his Magestone chains rattled a fury in her. “Imagine a loyalty where someone would damn themselves for their friend. Faythe is far more than my queen. Reylan is far more than my general.”

Zaiana didn’t believe that was the sole reason he was here. They were planning something from within, just as Zaiana had in Rhyenelle. She was patient enough to figure it out sooner or later.

“She is alone. Your plan was never going to place you two cozy in a cell together.”

His smile showed teeth, but there was nothing friendly in it. “If you’re to inflict my physical punishment, get on with it.”

Kyleer approached the bars. Zaiana didn’t move, though his proximity flipped her stomach.

“I might even enjoy it, coming from you.”

His large hand lashed around hers, tightening against her instinct to retreat. All he did was hold her with eyes of hypnotizing, deadly beauty.

“Maybe you haven’t been provoked enough to strike your lightning back into your palms,” he challenged.

She ripped her hand from under his. “Is that what you’re trying to do?”

Kyleer’s mouth quirked a fraction. “I’m just bored, I guess.” He took up a side-lean against the wall.

Zaiana could hardly breathe right from the lingering scent of his blood. “Did you get that dressed?” she asked, indicating the stab wound she’d inflicted in his side.

“There was hardly time.”

“If it gets infected from your mortal pace of healing in those shackles, don’t count on the same treatment you offered me.”

“No bath?”

She gave him her deepest scowl.

He paced to the back of the cell. “Terrible hospitality. Anything I can do to get an upgrade?”

“What are you doing, Kyleer?”

“This method of interrogation doesn’t suit you. Try again.”

He was the last nerve of her already thin patience.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Does that concern you?”

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