Page 17 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“Did anyone…?” Zaiana shouldn’t care, and she hoped it came off as an inquiry about their triumph. “Did everyone make it?”

Maverick paused with his hand on the door. “For now,” he confirmed. His black eyes lingered on her like he was yearning to stay and explain, but something was dominating him to leave. “Faythe escaped, Marvellas has the general though. Truthfully, I don’t know what they’re planning for now, but I think we should all brace for the Nether that’s about to be unleashed by that one.”

Zaiana’s gut twisted at the notion. If they captured Faythe’s mate…

A dizzy spell threatened to collapse her back down, but Zaiana couldn’t rest another moment.

She’d wasted too much time.

“They don’t expect anything from you until you’re fully recovered. If you were smart, you’d consider drinking human blood to heal faster despite your long abstinence.”

Zaiana’s mouth fell open with a denial she didn’t get to voice, because Maverick didn’t look back as he left. How did he knowshe hadn’t indulged in human blood for a long time? Or was he merely guessing, since she’d refrained on their quest together?

It didn’t matter. She had far bigger problems to face, and she would prove she didn’t need the help of human blood.

Zaiana clenched her teeth, maneuvering to sit with her legs off the bed. Bracing a hand on the headboard, she forced stability through the sharp pains to stand.

Her footing stumbled at the tilt of the room. Zaiana caught herself on whatever object she could. The bedpost. Then the dresser. Where were her clothes? She only wore a black silk nightgown.

She decided to try the closet. Within it, she found suitable combat attire and had to wonder who’d left it for her. Now her mind had started to come back, she gathered the right sense to be irritated by Maverick watching over her like hecared.

He’d saved her. Zaiana’s fists clenched with the notion it could hang over her, a life debt owed.

If he’d let her die, she would have been out of his way as the most favorable dark fae in the ranks. She didn’t want to believe it was out of his own will, his want. No—she couldn’t allow him, or herself, to fall into a trap of caring whether the other lived or died.

With the world cracking into war, and with their fates to lead on the front lines, entangling their emotions with each other would only get them killed sooner.

Fully dressed, she found her metal guards on the nightstand and slipped them onto her middle and pointer fingers. Her body ached, adjusting slowly with small movements she hardly had the patience for, and she despised her short, lethargic breaths.

Zaiana’s brow slicked as she paused to lean her back against the wall. To distract herself, she watched her fingers flex, adorned with the metal weight that felt more natural than herfingers did when they were off. Though she didn’t have much strength right now, she had to feel it—her magick.

She reached within herself, touching around for the hum that would rake over her skin in answer.

Zaiana felt…nothing.

She quelled the spike of panic before it could waver her focus. Reaching again, she searched, diving deeper for the vibrations of her lightning, but it was so still. Zaiana retreated in horror.

Her skin was pale and cold yet beaded with sweat. Her chest remained as silent as always. Her magick…

“No,” she breathed, clamping her eyes shut.

Zaiana braced on her thighs with the sickness roiling in her stomach. Then, with a groan of frustration, she straightened, though it was painful to do so. She walked a few paces and rolled her shoulders.

Her exhale shuddered from her as she felt the weight of her wings expanding from her shoulder blades. Relief flooded her, though it exerted her of far more energy than it should to release her glamour.

She still had her wings.

Zaiana dropped to her knees, clutching a hand to her chest. Her magick couldn’t be gone.

She was just recovering.

Even as she chanted the assurance this had to be a block, a temporary torture, clouds of anxiety filled her mind and taunted her existence. Who would she be without it? It didn’t bear thinking about.

Zaiana was her lightning. Its strength, its unique beauty. If she didn’t have that…

She would be nothing at all.

CHAPTER FIVE

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