Page 345 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“Our high king wasn’t convinced by the thought of risking great forces—it is why only a little over a dozen of us defied his order to come. Livia Arrowood made a very convincing case—I had to see the homeland of our beloved Firebirds. This is Ignisra.” Rhiannon smoothed a hand over the feathers on her bird’s wing, and it looked back on her fondly, with a vertical pupil cutting through a core of warm amber.

Faythe wanted to learn all the names of the Firebirds. It gave her a spark of hope for the future to get to see where they’d migrated to and how they lived on triumphantly.

“You’re welcome to Rhyenelle any time,” Faythe offered. Then she thought, “Do you know how the Phoenix eggs are hatched?”

“When they were wild beasts, we’re taught they hatched sporadically, and some never did. It was like they chose when they wanted to come into the world. Since they’ve started bonding with mortals, they wait for a claiming. The egg stays dormant until it chooses its rider.”

Faythe’s eyes darted to Reylan’s with hope for Atherius’s egg.

“Faythe!” Tauria’s voice sounded from the castle entrance.

The Fenstead queen ran toward her, and Faythe jogged to meet her. They collided in a burst of relief, joy, and sorrow. After all the separation, and with all the evil that had chased each of them on their own paths, Faythe squeezed the gift of her tighter, relieved they’d made it to this reunion in the end.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Faythe croaked.

“Oh, Faythe, I don’t even know where to begin,” she whispered back.

“One day at time.”

It was the only way they would learn to move on with their losses.

She spied Nik over her shoulder. When they released each other, Faythe walked to him slowly. Her eyes pricked at the broken sight of him, though he tried so hard to wear a mask of bravery. It was like it all broke apart when they reached each other.

“Jak and Marlowe…” He trailed off, his voice barely audible.

Faythe couldn’t speak, she fell into him instead. Nik’s arms wrapped her tightly.

Nerida and Tarly were here too, and Faythe’s burdens lightened the more people she accounted for from the battle.

She spun, scanning the courtyard twice. “Kyleer and Izaiah?” she breathed from the panic in her throat. “Zaiana?”

“Look up,” Reylan said, slipping an arm around her.

Faythe threw her head back, and spying the stroke of darkness heading toward them stunned her as much as the first time she’d seen the black Phoenix.

The red Phoenixes cried and became restless. Faythe could feel their fear and distress.

“Is that a black Phoenix?” Rhiannon said in terror.

Faythe couldn’t understand their fear. “It’s not what you think,” Faythe said, trying to calm them.

The other birds only grew more upset, knocking into statues and destroying garden beds. Izaiah must have noticed, because he shifted to a smaller bird to soar down lower before landing in a flash of light, revealing himself as fae.

“Am I really that frighting?” he commented.

Rhiannon stared at Izaiah in stupor. “How can you transform into a black Phoenix?”

“That is a grim story.” When his eyes shifted to Faythe, assumption started swirling in her mind.

Faythe glowered at him, and he almost flinched away when she marched to him. She pulled him into a firm embrace. “You might actually be more insane and reckless than I am,” she mumbled. “I’m glad you’re alive, stupid choices aside.”

He squeezed her. “Me too, Faythe,” he sighed.

“The black Phoenix carries a dark legend,” Rhiannon explained. “I always thought it was just a scary story we grew up with, but with the reaction of the other Phoenixes…well, I guess I’m just glad you’re not a real one.”

“What legend?” Faythe asked, her interest piqued.

“From the void, a black wing shall rise, and with its rider, unmake the light.”

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