Page 60 of A Flame of the Phoenix

It wasn’t often Zaiana was disturbed by the presence of death, but something about being in the resting place of someone so ancient and legendary pricked her skin with judgment. In front of the sculpture, there was a sunken tomb.Zaiana gravitated toward it to discover Matheus Ashfyre wasn’t the only person who rested here.

“Should we really be down here?” Zaiana muttered, glancing around as if she would catch a flicker of something that would give away there were spirits around, watching.

“Probably not,” Izaiah said, so chipper it contrasted with her skittish mood. “But no one else can get past the door we came through, and they won’t suspect we can. You’d do best to keep that to yourself.”

Zaiana didn’t take well to warnings, especially when delivered in a threat. Izaiah was impressing his demand that even Tynan and Amaya stay unaware of what they were doing down here.

“So if I kill you here, no one will find you,” Zaiana answered.

“Likewise.”

Maybe she did enjoy the challenge Izaiah offered. It gave her something of a thrill to think she might be the one to end him first, but not before she got what she wanted.

“Where’s the ruin?”

Izaiah wandered over to a sunken grave, crouching beside it.

“You’re not going to?—”

He grabbed a long iron rod, jamming it into the crevice before angling it to pop the stone free. Gods above, this was grim even for her. As he pried it loose and begin to slip the long, body-length stone aside to reveal the remains within, Zaiana noticed there was no given name, only the house name of Ashfyre and two dates, the occupant’s end dating to around the start of the war five hundred years ago.

Zaiana peeked into the depths.

It was empty.

“My guess is it’s supposed to be Malin’s father,” Izaiah said, hopping into the space without a care. “It’s the newest-looking space here.”

“No name?” Zaiana spoke the obvious.

“No body either. Got to wonder why they bothered reserving a space for him.”

As he slid a small box over the ledge, Zaiana eyed the intricate carvings with a rush through her blood. Izaiah hauled himself out of the grave.

“I figured no one else would be twisted enough to go grave-robbing if they did manage to find out we came here.”

“Not above your limits though.”

Izaiah shrugged. “I’ve been trying to figure out what feels off about Malin. His father…there’s very little about him. It’s almost like he’s been erased.”

“Why would someone want the king’s brother forgotten?”

“That’s the wicked question, isn’t it?”

She couldn’t understand how he wouldn’t know about such an important person in the royal lineage.

“I’ve felt the power that comes off this thing. I’ve heard it responds the most to chaos. Are you composed enough for this, little darkling?”

She cut him with a look. “You’re going to die by this,” she warned.

“Perhaps.”

Izaiah pulled a small knife from his side, not hesitating to slice his palm. Zaiana fixed her attention on the box he set on the ground and spilled his blood onto, anticipation tightening in her gut. It had been a while she’d tasted the magnetic, otherworldly power, and all she hoped for was that once it found her, it would drag forth her damned stubborn lightning.

Every shift of the wood and glow of the markings inched her closer,hungryfor the power that would call to her the moment the ruin was free…

The glow diminished, and she listened to Izaiah’s heart quicken a fraction. His fist clenched, and Zaiana…she feltnothing. Dread consumed her. She approached the box only to drop down and knock the lid away to confirm it was inside. Only then did she feel the hum. Only a taunt, as if it knew her ability hid from her and it would offer no help to coax it forth.

“If you think of crossing me with its power, you should know I have an assassin tracking Tynan and Amaya who will act if he doesn’t see me by sundown.”

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