Page 263 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“And if it is?” Izaiah supplied.

“If it wants life, I can think of five masters I’m itching to throw through it,” Zaiana said.

“Don’t act on your own—we can’t risk losing you,” Nik said.

Zaiana scoffed. “I don’t need permission from any of you. And to be clear, just because you discovered who my father is doesn’t change a thing about my value. He made nothing of me. Everything I am and that you feared now and before is whatImade.”

Faythe had grown to admire and respect Zaiana. Their relationship might always be prickly and tense from their past—Faythe couldn’t forget the many times Zaiana had harbored the intent to kill her—and she would be a fool to believe that objective would ever fully fade. Despite this, she was glad the dark fae was here as their ally for now.

Just as the room settled, the door burst open, and everyone stood, shifting into defense at the sudden intrusion when the guards were instructed to grant them complete undisrupted privacy.

Those guards now lay on the ground behind the intruders feet.

Nyte’s feet.

“Do you know how long it took me to find where you’d run off to after you destructive display in Rhyenelle?” he said, sounding like the Nether.

Though she was growing accustomed to his dark blond hair and bright hazel eyes, she still saw flickers of his true appearance of midnight hair and eyes of a brighter gold than hers when he embodied the dark side of himself.

“Who are you?” Nik asked, his tone threatening while his hand hovered on his sword.

Nyte canted his head at Faythe, gliding into the room with perfect confidence despite everyone’s brace of hostility. “Do you want to explain, or will I?”

Faythe’s head throbbed by the time she and Nyte had explained all to the others. About him being Marvellas’s son, and his quest to return to his own realm.

“The mirrors,” Faythe breathed when they got to that.

She should have thought of it before, and now they were right above the mirrors below the castle Faythe had once stumbled upon, looking for Aurialis’s ruin. She’d found it. And she recalled the Dresair’s claim of being able to take her throughworldsif she so desired.

“Say that again,” Nyte said, as if he knew what she spoke of.

“There’s a creature that lives in the mirrors below this castle. They might be able to help you make it home.”

Nyte stood. “Take me.”

“Hold on,” Nik said, standing too and pinning Nyte with distrust. “You don’t get to waltz into our world thatyourmother is terrorizing thenleavejust like that.”

“It wasn’t a waltz, I assure you,” Nyte muttered. “More like a drag through hell before being dropped in the worst possible place.”

“Hell?” Izaiah inquired.

Nyte didn’t bother to amend his strange terminology from another land.

Faythe didn’t forget the stunt Nyte had tried to pull in Rhyenelle. She pinned him as she circled the table until she stood opposite him.

“You had no right to attempt to kill Malin,” she said resentfully.

Nyte’s stare darkened on her. “I don’t expect you to understand why I did it.”

“I don’t care. He wasnotyours to kill.”

“I didn’t kill him—you made sure of that.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Because I have another brother,” he confessed. “In my own realm. And I saw everything he could have become in Malin Ashfyre. I guess you could say grim sentiment to end his misery got the better of me. A surprise to both of us.”

“Is he dead?” Izaiah asked darkly.

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