Page 287 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“We’re not done facing our losses…but we also haven’t experienced the best of our triumphs. We can’t have, for the war is still closing in. Marlowe was so brave and resilient in every effort toward winning, so we cannot lose. For every sacrifice toward this better world, we cannot lose.”

“We won’t,” Tauria’s voice intruded softly.

Nik’s chest eased from the pressure building when he turned his gaze up to her. Tauria sat on his other side. She smiled, lifting some of his burden, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“She deserved so much more than she got,” Tauria said, her voice hushed to keep from breaking. “Marlowe believed in me. Believed in the great queen I would become, and I can’t accept that she won’t be here to see she was right.”

“She already did see,” Faythe said quietly. “She saw the potential in all of us. Rooted for us and guided us in ways we never appreciated, and I fear…I fear I never told her enough how greatshewas.”

The guilt of that speared through him too. He didn’t try to recall whether he’d voiced his own appreciation and admiration to Marlowe, because no matter how many small counts he could think of, it would never be enough. Not for all she’d done. That was a tragedy he would live with forever.

“There you are.” Reylan entered the clearing next.

Faythe stood as he did, meeting him in a tight, comforting embrace Nik glanced away from, helping Tauria up.

“I wanted to visit Marlowe too,” Tauria said sadly. Nik squeezed her hand.

Behind Faythe and Reylan, Nerida and Tarly came through the tree line, perfectly content, and he wondered if there was no trial of fear to enter anymore now the Spirit of Life was not a guardian of their realm.

To his surprise, Kyleer, Izaiah, and Zaiana joined them. Was everyone here to pay their respects to Marlowe Kilnight?

“Thank you for coming,” Faythe said, clearly having not expected the support of her friends, even those who didn’t know her well.

Nik felt them all like pillars of strength. A unity that would keep fighting, keep marching on, because that was the best way to honor their lost.

Together, they walked quietly through the woodland toward the temple clearing, leaning on each other for support.

It wasn’t the sight of the gravestone that weakened his knees and softened the ground he walked on; it was the lonely, lost sight of Jakon, who kneeled before it. Nik hadn’t been aware the human was here, or he would have snapped out of his pitiful state to come sooner. To not have left him alone, dammit.

Nik let Tauria go, approaching ahead of the others. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Jakon was feeling. Nik visualized that tombstone inscribed with Tauria’s name instead, and that was enough for him to know Jakon was holding himself together better than Nik could have. He’d been quiet, keeping to himself. Everyone dealt with grief differently, and he thought silence was the most devastating display.

Nik placed a hand tentatively on Jakon’s shoulder. To his relief, he didn’t shrug him off. He had no words—they all felt insulting to the gravity of his grief. A condolence; a hollow promise. Nothing would ease a fraction of his pain.

“I can’t be there tomorrow,” Jakon said, his voice clipped.

“I understand.”

“We wanted to celebrate our marriage with everyone when the war was over. At least…I was an unwitting fool in that delusion, since I think Marlowe knew we would never get there.”

Marlowe’s death had left so many open questions in her wake because of her gift as an Oracle. Nik himself had been reeling over memories as if he could have missed some sign that Marlowe knew her life was in danger. It sickened him to his core to imagine that kind of terror, knowing death lingered like a taunt.

“Jak…if you ever need anything…you have a home in the castle and a friend in me, always.” Nik squeezed his shoulder and backed up a step.

His eyes lingered on Marlowe’s name, then over the small field of bluedrops spreading around it. Tauria sniffed, hooking her arm through his and leaning her head on his shoulder. Nikcried too. The most silent wounds to cut him a thousand times within.

Faythe lowered near Jakon, not speaking, just joining in mournful silence. Reylan lingered behind her. Tarly held Nerida, who mourned for Marlowe, having gotten the privilege of knowing her for a short time.

Itwasa privilege. Nik would always carry the blessing Marlowe had brought into his life. Offering her knowledge and kindness without hesitation. The kind of soul that was lost in Marlowe…it was rare, and that made her loss all that more tragic.

Zaiana, Kyleer, and Izaiah held back, but their presence helped share the crushing weight of grief in these friends. Family. They were all equal pillars of support, and the only way they would get through what was coming was together.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

Zaiana

Zaiana couldn’t place what she felt staring in the mirror. It was strange how a drastic change of attire could shift the type of person within the silk and lace. She was free to grasp her emotions now, but still they unsettled her. The prickling in her eyes fought against tears, and her mind chastised the pitiful reason she wanted to cry.

Out of joy, perhaps. If that was what the warmth in her was.

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