Page 286 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“How do you plan to do that?” Zaiana asked. She’d sat in quiet observation of their battle movements beside Kyleer thus far.

Nik said, “We have a wedding.”

Everyone’s gaze snapped to him with the jarring suggestion. Nik grinned wide, taking Tauria’s hand in his and kissing the back of it.

Faythe gasped at the sparking emerald that adorned her finger.

“You werenotwearing that when you arrived—I would have seen it!” she exclaimed.

Tauria giggled. “We married in private before we last left High Farrow. We didn’t want Zarrius or anyone who might have intentions for our thrones to find out and risk a double assassination target on us. But if one of us didn’t make it with what we set out to do, we wanted to make sure, in law and in bond, our kingdoms belonged to the other.”

Faythe teared up. This flutter of joy was such a gift in their dark times.

“Congratulations,” Zaiana said, lacking sentiment. “But having a party for you in the middle of a war seems ridiculous.”

“I get it,” Kyleer said, speaking tentatively. “You want to make it appear like our guard is down and hope Marvellas will exploit our vulnerability.”

“She’s no fool,” Zaiana countered.

“But she’s desperate,” Faythe said, thinking it over. “I agree it’s nothing of a sure plan, but if Marvellas doesn’t knowDakodas switched her ruin, then I’ll draw her here with it. Use its power enough that she’ll feel it.”

“Excellent,” Nik said, staring adoringly at Tauria, delighting in the idea of a proper ceremony for their union.

Faythe’s heart filled watching them.

Even though their day would be used to lure one of their greatest threats, the memories they would capture before the chaos would be worth it. They all needed this. A moment to be with each other. To laugh and enjoy, when they didn’t know who would make it to the other side of this war.

Faythe’s eyes scanned the room though she knew Jakon wasn’t here. She would go to the blacksmiths’ again today as she’d been five times now. Her visits never lasted long. Jakon worked tirelessly, throwing his broken heart and soul into craft after craft. She didn’t know what to do.

Nik stood, guiding Tauria up with him. “We have preparations to make. We’ll have the wedding by week’s end.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

Nikalias

It was the night before the wedding reception, and Nik had been standing by the waterfall in the Eternal Woods for some time. He thought he’d have the strength to wander through it, toward the temple, to visit Marlowe’s grave…but he couldn’t. Nik was in a state of denial he couldn’t confront. To see her tombstone might finally break him.

He was another person who’d failed her. Nik couldn’t understand how the quietest, gentlest of them all had to die. He damned fate and destiny and everything Marlowe had been burdened with.

His palms pressed into his eyes with the sting that kept coming back to them as he reflected on her life. She was one of his citizens, and he promised to honor her memory on these lands for eternity.

Sinking down on his haunches, Nik watched the yucolites chase each other. Could they have saved her? So manywhat-ifsandmaybesplagued his thoughts, feeding the blame he harbored for not being there with her.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Faythe’s voice held a broken note as she approached behind him.

Nik closed his eyes with the slam of emotion that sank him to his knees in the grass. Faythe’s palm slipped over his shoulder. His hand reached back to take hers. He would miss Marlowe, and the utter unfairness of her death would haunt him forever, but he couldn’t fathom what Faythe was bottling inside with the loss of her dear friend.

Faythe sat down beside him. They sat with only the familiar crash of the waterfall filling the void of their silence. Then he scented the salt from her tears and heard her quiet sniff.

“How are we supposed to move on after this? We’re barely holding ourselves together. We’ve lost time and time again, and the worst of them…” Faythe buried her face in her hands.

Her grief broke the seal he tried to keep on his. This time he didn’t fight the pooling in his eyes, letting it spill freely. Nik put an arm around Faythe, and she leaned into his side.

“I don’t know,” he confessed.

Faythe straightened, her gold eyes split with misery and desperation. “You can’t say that,” she croaked. “You’re the one who always has the words to pull us through.”

He didn’t realize his words had meant that much to her at some point or another. Nik swallowed the lump in his throat.

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