Page 35 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Nik swore, glancing at Faythe. “Do you know if he’s still in your castle?”

He was the last person Faythe had considered with all that was happening. The last time she saw the lord was when she’d rejected his dance and he’d been silently infuriated.

Faythe shook her head. “We haven’t had contact from inside. Their defenses around Ellium are strong—likely anticipating I would try to return. I haven’t been able to Nightwalk to Jakon, Marlowe, or Izaiah. But someone like Zarrius has no more to gain there, like my hand in marriage. It would be wise to assume he’s set his sights back on High Farrow knowing you’d be absent to go after Tauria.”

Nik pinched the bridge of his nose. “That bastard won’t quit in his pursuit of a crown, and this has all opened up in his damn favor.”

“Would your council really be so swayed by his authority?” Tarly asked.

Faythe was familiar with Zarrius’s attempt to gain Nik’s kingdom with Samara as his pawn. She didn’t doubt Zarrius was cunning enough to try again.

“He’ll have lost credibility by now, I believe, but he’s cunning. With me away from my council, I have no doubt he’ll try to weasel his way through their minds,” Nik said. He paced a few steps in thought.

“I’ll go back,” Samara said.

Everyone’s surprised looks targeted her, and she shrank into herself.

“You’re not going back to him alone,” Nik said firmly. “Not after what he’s done to you.”

“Agreed,” Faythe said.

“I’m the only one he’ll let get close to him. He’ll believe I’ve come back with nowhere else to go, and he likes to hold that kind of power over people,” Samara said, finding more determination in her tone.

“Get close for what?” Livia asked.

“To kill him.”

They all knew it was what had to happen. Zarrius was too unpredictable and would always pose a threat with his drive for power, but it was unexpected to have the task posed by the gentle high-born lady.

“Much as I like the sound of that, one suspicion and Zarrius wouldn’t hesitate to killyou,”Livia said.

When Samara glanced up at the commander, a blush fanned across her pale cheeks before she resumed picking at the hem of her sleeve. “I appreciate everyone’s concern despite what I’ve done. But I don’t have much other purpose here. After I achieve his assassination, I can flee. I want to do this,” she said.

“What you’ve done is forgiven and in the past. I won’t let you become a fugitive for murdering a lord,” Nik said firmly.

He’d come to care for Samara, and from what Faythe knew of her story, she could understand her actions somewhat, even though she’d made an attempt on Nik’s life. If he could forgive it, Faythe could try too. It was all Zarrius’s manipulation.

“I can escort her and make sure the careful movement of our armies is on track,” Livia said.

That eased Nik and Lycus’s concern.

Faythe shifted a glance to Tarly Wolverlon. He was looking paler by the day. It was clear his days were numbered, and Nerida wouldn’t leave his side. The healer spent all her time with her herbs and her journal, fussing over Tarly when he tried to assure her he was well. He was anything but.

She exchanged glances with Nik, who, despite his typical adverse feelings toward the Olmstone prince, bore his own concern.

“We’ll leave tomorrow night,” Livia settled on. She crossed the space to Nik, unsheathing a small dagger and passing it to him. “You can Nightwalk to me to stay informed about HighFarrow. It’s in everyone’s best interests to avoid any unnecessary conflict on the inside of our last stronghold.”

Nik frowned at the dagger—a belonging of hers that would allow him to Nightwalk the long distance to her—but something else was on his mind. He reached for something hidden inside his jacket, and Faythe’s eyes caught on the blade he produced with a missed beat of recognition in her chest.

“He’d want you to have this now,” Nik said. “He gave it to me before we parted in High Farrow for the same reason.”

It was Jakon’s. Faythe would never mistake the aged, worn wooden handle of the first thing she’d ever been able to afford to gift to her best friend. Faythe took it vacantly, and though she was glad to have this piece of him with her, the blade that held so many memories in its steel split open a hollow void in her. She wished then she had another dagger—the one Marlowe had gifted her before her first fight against a fae—to have a piece of them both with her while they were parted. She hoped with every ache in her that they were staying safe in Rhyenelle’s castle.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Nik wordlessly slung an arm around her shoulders.

Everyone was beginning to find their role in the march toward the end of this war, and every breath was held in the hope they’d all be standing when it came.

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