Page 225 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“I’m here,” Kyleer said, beside her now.

His touch on her skin was a lifeline, and she let him peel her upright, leaning into him while she trembled. She caught her breath and braved a look up at the Goddess.

Marvellas held eyes on her, but there was no malice. No rage. Nothing. She looked at Zaiana, but that wasn’t what the Goddess saw.

“Rainyte,” Marvellas said in a ghostly tone. Zaiana glanced sideways only briefly, so as not to give up his cover. “How…where did you see him? What is this trick?”

“You won’t find that answer in my thoughts,” she said. This was her upper hand.

“I will find everything, even if it shatters your mind.”

That threat was so doused in savage desperation that Zaiana shivered, bracing and clutching Kyleer tighter. He shifted as if he would lunge between them. The spirit took one single step?—

Guards came rushing into the room, their urgent steps vibrating under her.

“There’s been an infiltration,” one said hurriedly.

“Who?” Marvellas snarled, slipping farther away from her usual elegance.

“We’re not sure, but she’s a powerful Waterwielder.”

“One fae?”

“Y-yes.” His voice quivered to admit this.

A single person. Powerful enough to make her way across the bridge alone.

Zaiana pictured the brown-skinned, white-haired beauty before cries echoed in the halls outside the throne room. Then a sudden flood rushed past the doors. Zaiana and Kyleer gripped each other, bracing to be swept away in the violent current.

Sharp slices of ice came next, and Zaiana followed the flow of the water in awe as it parted, shooting high in twin waves before freezing in time.

Who stood between them…?

Nerida.

Though her entrance could not be as stunning as the words she followed with.

“You’ve sat for too long on my throne, Marvellas.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Zaiana

Nerida Da’Naid.

The lost heir to the Lakelarian throne. No—not lost. Nerida had always known who she was and where she wanted to be. Or rather, where she didn’t want to be.

It was so clear now. The fae’s elegance, her calm but firm charge when needed: leadership was in her blood, and the way she stood now, facing Marvellas, with defiance in her stance, proved exactly who she was.

Marvellas didn’t answer right away, and the hall fell into a fragile, deadly silence. If Zaiana didn’t know any better…the Spirit appeared confused over the declaration.

“There is no heir for this throne. Iana had one child, and she is dead.”

“As you can see, I’m very much alive. And this kingdom remembers their heir.”

“I saw it in her mind,” Marvellas snapped, clearly despising the mockery she thought this to be.

“You saw her grief and my funeral—that was all true. She didn’t want anyone to know her only heir had run away. My death was an easier acceptance for her.”

---