Page 222 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Zaiana’s newfound heart skipped a beat of trepidation. “What have they done to Acelin, Kellias, Drya, and Selain?” she dared to ask.

Nyte’s caramel eyes flexed around the edges. “I hope they weren’t dear to you. They were executed by people called the masters.”

The weight of that knowledge slammed into her, and she ripped out of Nyte’s hold.

“What’s wrong?” Kyleer asked, worried.

Those four dark fae had been Zaiana’s trusted team of the best. She’d selected them herself, watching each of them for many months before she’d brought them into her close circle. Their bond had forged over centuries, and they were the only people she knew with absolute certainty their loyalty to her was true. That they would lay down their lives for her.

The masters had killed them. Killed them simply for what they meant to her.

“Did you find out when?” Zaiana asked, hardly present when the reel of the masters’ faces turning in her mind grew her need for bloody retribution. She could hardly think straight.

“Many months ago. They weren’t exact.”

That meant they’d killed them not long after Zaiana left the mountain on her first endeavor to capture Faythe Ashfyre—a quest given by Mordecai. Was he behind their murders too? Was it another cruel lesson for her to receive when they believed she would return?

Zaiana had to turn away, tipping her head back in horror over the wetness that pooled in her eyes and threatened to spill. She willed them to turn to glass and cut, to add to the scars she carried within, because this was her failure. Their deaths were on her conscience.

Though one thing became absolute in the cold darkness Zaiana paced within in her mind: the masters would pay, and it would not be quick nor merciful.

She had nothing to lose anymore, and the more she pictured her spree of blood and vengeance against them, the more determination trembled in her bones to get out of here.

“Marvellas sent me for you,” Nyte informed her. “Do you have a plan to get out of this? I need to know, because I’d like to be escaping with you and could prove useful if you tell me.”

Zaiana didn’t have a plan. She’d asked Nyte to get a message to the inner circle she’d left behind in the Mortus Mountains, hoping they’d make it here to assist when she inevitably made a lot of commotion to escape. All she had now was her intuition she hoped would collide with her drive for violence when a moment to escape presented itself.

Had she known the information about her inner circle before now, she might have considered a more stealthy plan of escape before Marvellas decided to summon her, if only to exact her revenge on the masters first, in case she never made it out of here alive after facing the Spirit for punishment.

“If you have any ideas, I’m all ears,” she said under her breath as Nyte began leading her out.

“Take me as well!” Kyleer yelled.

Nyte slipped a look to her in question.

“Please?” she asked him, not accustomed to the sour taste of begging, but she had little advantage here.

If Zaiana managed to create a moment for escape, even if she couldn’t make it out herself, she hoped Kyleer would.

Nyte obliged.

He led with her, escorting them to the glass throne room, where the flaming red hair of Marvellas stood out starkly, surrounded by snow beyond the transparent walls.

This castle was beautiful. A true observational masterpiece.

But entirely fragile.

Maverick was here, observing silently by the throne Marvellas spilled herself over. She couldn’t read him. His expression remained more cold and distant than ever. They had been rival allies before Zaiana’s traitorous actions. Now they really were enemies.

The hall was weighted with judgment, and Zaiana didn’t know what to anticipate. One thing remained certain in her chest: she would not submit. She would fight with her last breath for herself, and for Kyleer.

Right now, she had to forget the commander shackled beside her and hope he’d remain compliant until Zaiana achieved what she needed.

They were pushed down roughly, and she gave no sound, though her knees felt close to shattering against the marble floor.

Then, silence. Chilling, tense silence fell in the stare-down between Zaiana and Marvellas.

There was something more savage in those glowing amber eyes—something out of place about her usual impeccable composure.

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