Page 41 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“Just stay alive,” he grumbled, not enjoying the care that was starting to grow roots for them. “For Faythe’s sake. It would be a shame to have her burn everything to the ground if she lost either of you.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tauria

Tauria had been assigned a handmaiden—a timid, young dark fae she’d liken to seventeen human years. She was beautiful, with inky black hair and eyes of the darkest brown. The top talons of her wings just peeked over her head.

“How long have you been in Fenstead, Edith?” Tauria asked while she sat in front of a vanity combing her hair.

The dark fae looked up to meet her reflection with shy surprise. “I was born here,” she said.

That inspired a protectiveness in Tauria. Despite being dark fae—which, in her lifetime and her parents’, had never been born in Fenstead—this made Edith one of her citizens.

“What do your parents do for work?” Tauria inquired.

Edith subtly flinched, sliding a final pin into a braid crowning Tauria’s head. “My mother was killed by my father. He’s…not a very good male. But a very powerful one.”

That slammed Tauria with shock. How barbaric the story of her parents was, even in the vaguest form.

“I’m so sorry.”

Edith smiled, wandering over to arrange Tauria’s outfit on the bed. “I have a good life here,” she said, losing herself in the task. “I have a new purpose—even more so now.” Her dark eyes slipped to Tauria.

“The winter is growing colder,” Tauria said. “Would you mind fetching us some tea to warm us?”

Edith considered this. It wasn’t like servants to refuse such simple requests, but her court wasn’t at all in the expected order.

Tauria planned to rebuild her court—her way. She had a week before her short trip to Valgard, and she was going to make the most of her time in her own kingdom.

When the handmaiden finally agreed and left Tauria, she immediately drifted past the emerald gown and dipped into the closet. Tauria dressed in all-black: a pair of tight-fitting pants and a tunic, with a belt for her staff. Slinging on a cloak, she hurried into the adjoining small dining area of this room she’d chosen deliberately for the escape passage that linked to it. There were several throughout the castle, and her chest squeezed that it was this one she’d taken to escape the day her kingdom was ambushed.

Throwing back the rug by the fireplace, she strained, gripping the latch to the door. Pushing her wind through the gap, she pulled it open, and it came up with far more ease.

Tauria descended the steps, closing the hatch and using her wind magick again to slip through the seal and blow the rug back into place. She felt mildly guilty thinking of Edith’s panic when she’d return to find Tauria gone, but she planned to be back before Mordecai would request she join him for supper.

When the bite of winter caught her cheeks, Tauria took a moment to breathe the free air. No one observed her. No one told her what to do. Tauria embraced this moment of reclaimed freedom back on her lands.

Drawing her hood, she walked casually through the streets. There wasn’t much traffic to lose herself in, so she merely observed the citizens, noticing how no one paid one another any attention. It was such a bleak contrast to the bustling joy she remembered filling these same roads. Strangers would greet each other, wishing good mornings and safe evenings. Smiles would be plastered on all faces, and as a child, she’d often thought Fenstead lived in its own realm of peace and happiness, disconnected from the burdens of the world she’d learned about in her schooling.

Tauria stopped by a shop she’d adored when she was young. It sold flowers and pottery, and every year, her mother brought her here for a treat. She always chose one of the beautifully painted saucers or cups, completely taken by the talent the shop owner possessed in her imagination and her skilled hands to paint such beauty.

Her reflection in the dull, cracked window sank with sorrow at the abandoned and destroyed shop now. How many more innocent places would she find stripped of all life and joy?

She headed inside anyway, out of nothing more than a deep nostalgic pull. Tauria’s boots crunched over foliage that had swept in through the gap in the door, now hanging off one hinge. Then, when she stepped and heard a break, she looked down sadly at the shattered, daisy-painted saucer.

“If you’re looking to loot the place, this is hardly going to trade you much coin.” A smooth, feminine voice spoke from behind her.

Tauria’s back stiffened. She tugged her hood over her forehead a little more and caught a glimpse of the person over her shoulder. “Did you follow me?” she asked.

“I merely wondered what kind of bandit would be interested in pottery. Though now I’m more intrigued as to what kind of bandit would think themselves valuable enough to be followed.”

The fae was little more than a silhouette with the light behind her. She stepped closer, and Tauria could take in more features. She had dark, triangular-shaped eyes and a delicate, bow-shaped mouth. She also kept her hood up, clad in leather combat attire, but her long black twin braids fell above her breasts. Tauria was quick to take note of the many weapons she carried around her belt. Between her fingers, she twirled steel in the shape of a star with lethal pointed edges. The way it spun between her hands without cutting her marked this fae as dangerous.

“I’m no one,” Tauria said—a pathetic attempt to sway this fae’s interest off her, but her mind drew a blank.

The fae smiled. It was the kind of smile that surged Tauria’s wind to her palms before the fae had even moved. When she did move, she was incredibly fast, sending the lethal metal star spinning toward her. Tauria’s wind threw off its trajectory. It would have struck her shoulder. Instead it thumped into the wall behind her.

Tauria stared at the fae, incredulous at the unprovoked attack, and braced again. But the fae didn’t retrieve another weapon. The attack had been a test, forcing Tauria to reveal her ability to confirm who she was.

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