Page 51 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Livia quickly added, “No sulking today—he’d be beside himself if he saw it. You’re coming with us.”

She wasn’t in the mood to go anywhere, but Livia anticipated that, crossing the few short strides to her and hauling Faythe up despite her disgruntled protests.

The market she was dragged to was bustling by the afternoon. Nerida and Samara had joined them, and Faythe had to admit it was nice to be in the company of just her female friends as they wandered aimlessly through the stalls, losing themselves to pretty things for a while.

Livia lifted a pink scarf off a table, draping it around Samara. “Pink is definitely your color,” the commander said.

Samara blushed, and Livia’s smile dropped as if she hadn’t meant to be so bold.

“Green is certainly yours,” Nerida said, the savior in their spiral of awkwardness as she plucked a sage version of the same item and held it up. She was right—it complimented Livia’s auburn hair beautifully.

“I’d choose gold for you,” Faythe said, joining in with the lighthearted fun and swiping a golden shawl to wrap around Nerida.

She giggled, and finally, Samara chose one too, grinning brightly.

“Red for our Phoenix Queen, of course,” she said, her tone naturally so polite with the elegance of court imbued in her.

Faythe accepted the deep red sheer material, glad Samara was beginning to ease into their company when she’d arrived quite reserved.

This kind of normalcy made her pine after Tauria and Marlowe a little harder, but she was trying to enjoy the day with the high spirits of Livia, Nerida, and Samara lifting her.

Nerida linked arms with her after they’d purchased the scarfs, keeping them on though they certainly didn’t match the leather Rhyenelle attire they all wore. It was more for sentiment than stylish appeal. Faythe had picked two more—a sky-blue for Marlowe, and an emerald-green for Tauria—in a silly effort to keep them close today.

They stopped to admire some brass trinkets and jeweled daggers. Samara reached her fingers up to rattle a beautiful wind chime. The sound pulled Faythe’s focus, tunneling her away from the chatter of the town. She watched the small metal rods dangle.

A breeze pushed by her, tangled with a presence that pricked the hairs at her nape. Faythe’s sight shifted, finding a tall, hooded, and masked figure about to pass them through thebustling crowds. Her attention tacked onto him, but she didn’t know why—only that her heart picked up, and there was nothing in her senses besides this person and the gentle chime above her.

They passed by Faythe, nearly brushing her arm, and it was then her sight fell again, catching on the quickest glint of ruby where his sleeve lifted.

Her world stopped still.

It couldn’t be…

Faythe was pushing through the crowd after him without a missed beat. The siren in her mind was all that rang now, maybe misleading her into thinking it was the amulet with the Eye of the Phoenix on this person’s wrist.

The one she had slipped onto Reylan’s wrist before they were separated.

People complained about her lack of grace as she pushed through the tight throng, but her heart was desperately reaching after him. She hadn’t been able to see his eyes or much of his face at all, and now he was only flashes of dark clothing escaping her.

Faythe became more frantic, trying to push faster, but when she finally caught a clear breath, the bodies lessening, she’d come to an intersection. She spun, glancing down each path, but the figure was gone. Tears welled in her eyes out of utter frustration and misery.

Had Reylan been right in front of her, and had she let him slip away again?

She couldn’t breathe. Faythe doubled over to brace her hands on her thighs with the dizzy, sweeping overwhelm and the scream she had to bottle. She focused deeply, recalling the familiar pulse of power from the Eye of the Phoenix she’d once worn herself. She searched within for her bond to Reylan. Despite it not being fully claimed, a part of him always resided within her.

“A warning before you run off like that next time.”

Livia’s call of outrage as she caught up to her severed any threads of the bond Faythe was trying to reach. She straightened, forcing back her whimper and tightening her fists, so as not to lash out at the commander.

“What did you see?” Nerida asked—a far more gentle reception than Livia.

She debated sharing. It would only seem like she was losing her mind in her desperation.

“Sorry,” she said in a subdued voice, coming down from her high of adrenaline. “It just looked like someone I knew, but I was wrong.”

“Valgard soldiers could be anywhere now—we have to stay vigilant and stick together,” Livia groused.

Faythe only nodded vacantly. Nerida’s gentle touch guided her again, and the Lakelarian healer wore only a smile of kindness.

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