Page 261 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“Did you retrieve the dagger?” Faythe asked, hope sparking in her eyes.

Nik’s solemn face spoke all, and her body deflated. The four of them exchanged glances, and Nerida’s head bowed.

“What happened?” Faythe asked, dread-filled.

Reylan had drifted toward her, feeling the spike of her anxiety.

“We should take this to the drawing room. On top of our losses, we have information that requires we make immediate battle movements. Shifting all the forces we have into place.”

Nik glanced between Reylan, Kyleer, and Izaiah at that. The best general and commanders they had. Reylan’s expression firmed, and the weight of impending battle hung heavy in the air.

“This won’t be like the Great Battles,” Nik went on. “This won’t stretch over decades. It won’t be a series of battles to claim land and soldiers piece by piece. This will be Ungardia’s darkest hour, a scale of fighting and bloodshed our lands have never faced before. It will decide the fate of the world.”

They spent hours in the drawing room, watching day turn to night as they all exchanged their losses, information, and small triumphs.

Faythe was livid over the story of Edith, Mordecai’s daughter, for what she’d stolen from Nerida. Vengeance was becoming a familiar pattern thrumming through her blood.

“Where would she be now?” Faythe snapped at no one in this room.

“Valgard or the Mortus Mountains, I’d wager,” Nik said.

Faythe’s gaze slipped to Zaiana. The dark fae’s stare fixed on Nerida, who wouldn’t meet it. She was glad not to be the only one with wrath boiling beneath her surface, though Zaiana masked hers better.

“So we hunt her down,” Zaiana said, her voice like a slither of shadow through the room.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Nerida said sadly. “In the Book of Enoch, it says only the sister dagger can return what was lost. One to take, one to give. She has to be killed with that, or any abilities she takes will just die with her.”

“There’sanotherdagger to find?” Tarly said, leaning back in defeat.

“I wouldn’t know where to start looking this time. It’s not as coveted as the dagger that takes. The Spellthief,” Nerida said.

Faythe didn’t fail to notice how Nik hadn’t stopped staring at Zaiana. The dark fae was beginning to notice too.

“Do you have problem?” Zaiana finally addressed him, cutting off the low conversation of others in the room.

“Are you going to tell them, or will I?” Nik said.

“If you give me a hint, maybe I can decide.”

“Did you know about Edith?”

Her purple eyes flexed. “No.”

“Why would she?” Faythe dreaded to ask.

“Because Nerida and Tauria aren’t the only ones with an estranged sister they were unaware of.”

Faythe’s mind puzzled over what he was implying, but when it slipped together, Faythe’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Tauria said, “I discovered that when Mordecai was first alive, he was the most powerful Stormcaster to have lived. Edith wanted the dagger to take Zaiana’s power and be Mordecai’s chosen child.”

Zaiana’s laughter was eerie at the thick tension in the room. Reylan’s hand hovered over the Ember Sword at his hip.

“I would gladly hand her that title,” Zaiana said.

“You’ve known Mordecai was your father all this time?” Faythe said, surprised by the pinch of betrayal she felt in her chest.

“I only recently suspected it. It didn’t seem of particular relevance to share.”

---