Page 4 of A Flame of the Phoenix

For now.

Every shift moved the metal tearing the flesh of his wrists. So he kept still. Arms splayed and bare-chested, kneeling in dried pools of his own blood. He tunneled far away into his mind. He didn’t care how much time had passed. He wasn’t wishing for it to be over.

To keep Faythe from Marvellas, Reylan would kneel there and bleed until the final darkness claimed him.

There were times a part of him hoped for death, if only to keep his mate from the path that would lead her to him. He prayed to every damn God that was still out there she wouldn’t find him. And that Marvellas wouldn’t find her.

A cobalt fire blazed at his back, but the warmth hardly reached him from the far end of the quaint home. The chill still seeped into his bones, and he figured the fire was only a measure to dull the sharp cold from killing him.

They began his test of endurance with lashes. The scores across his skin were familiar, if distant, from a past that made him able to tolerate them now. They left hours in between lashings so he’d heal enough for them to start again and not have him bleed out too much.

Marvellas came frequently, attempting to slip into his mind each time he got close to the limit of his pain tolerance. Reylan would forget every slice of flesh, every ounce of blood spilled, to delve into his mind and block her violation with everything he was.

He couldn’t lose Faythe—the memories of her that Marvellas tried to pluck from him one by one. He didn’t want to live should she succeed in erasing Faythe entirely.

She won sometimes.

Faythe’s smile…it was gone.

Though not entirely.

He couldn’t remember the image, as Marvellas had gone straight for the things he treasured most about her. She’d been unrelenting in her attempts to erase Faythe’s smile this past week. Reylan bowed his head in defeat at the triumph she’d gained.

He remembered how it felt. That when Faythe smiled, it awakened something within him and cast a light through the shadows of his mind. He knew what a smile looked like on another person. Marvellas’s mouth curled often, but her smile was one of cruelty and amusement.

Faythe…her smile was a token of liberation. A streak of light breaking through angry clouds. It was his beacon home.

Yet when he tried to picture it, all he found was her mouth firm. Often troubled and frightened, and though she masked it well, it spoke to him in her eyes.

He’d been suffering worse than any physical pain since her smile was taken.

The hut door creaked open, and he squinted at the brightness flooding the dark. Outside the wind howled and flurried the air with snow. They had to have taken him somewhere high—a mountaintop, perhaps—for the snow to be so thick and the air so bitterly icy.

He knew her by the scent that triggered the first inkling of any feeling in days—or weeks—of deserted misery.

Rage.

“Not so mighty, White Lion of the South,” Marvellas drawled, taking steps so slow and predatory toward him.

She crouched when he didn’t lift his head. To lock eyes with her golden irises made him conflicted with heartache and fury. Though they couldn’t contend with Faythe’s, the color never failed to slice him with yearning.

Marvellas gripped his chin. With the Magestone shackles draining his strength daily, he had to preserve what he could, so he focused on his breathing and allowed the repulsive touch.

It left him with no choice but to meet her gaze. He’d seen the ethereal brightness before, when Faythe harnessed her powers and became a breathtaking spectacle. The same glow was ever-present in the Spirit’s eyes, indicating she was a force to be reckoned with even in her perfect calm form.

“I wondered for a long time if I should have come for you sooner. Killed you back then. But I believe in the Order, Reylan, and now I see it has brought you right to where I need you.”

“You’re going to fail, Marvellas,” he said, his tone dripping with venom.

Her head canted while two fae unlatched his chains from the wall.

“You’re not going to let that happen,” she sang.

Reylan remained in his shackles but gritted his teeth against the burning sting when his arms fell, shooting fire up his stiff muscles. The cold had numbed him enough, and with her so close…

His hands had barely risen a fraction to lunge for her when she invaded his mind and halted his movements—an impulsive error as the damn Magestone stripped his resistance, leaving him to her mercy. He channeled the heat of his vengeance through his eyes.

“It’s too perfect, us being together now. I believe there is a God on my side to have granted this alliance. Your reluctance only makes this painful for you.”

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