Page 76 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“Where have you been?” Tynan folded his arms with the question. His accusation was enough to smother the mood.

“I didn’t know you needed tabs on me at all hours,” Izaiah brushed off. “You need to find another hobby to keep you distracted. I’m afraid I have other things to occupy my time.”

“You’re an arrogant prick.”

“Flattery won’t entice me.”

Tynan rolled his eyes before heading to the door. “Keep out of trouble,” he grumbled.

Izaiah smiled to himself. It dropped bittersweet in the vacancy of his rooms. Bracing his hands against the desk, his head bowed at the uncertainty that flooded in during the moments he gained alone. His plan wasn’t really a plan as such. Though he’d brushed off Zaiana’s warnings about the ruin, he harbored them truly. He knew the risks and only hoped he wasn’t the coward his father had taunted he was.

The weak, helpless younger sibling who couldn’t do anything.

Didn’t want to fight.

Only wanted the pain to stop, but not for himself—for Kyleer, who took the worst of it for them both.

His fingers curled to a painful grip on the wood.

He wouldn’t be powerless again. Not in this war, when he had the chance to be something bigger.

He couldn’t fight his father for Ky then. Now he could damn well try to fight the world for him. And for Reylan. And Livia. And Faythe. Andeveryone.

Izaiah would do whatever it took to be unstoppable for them.

On his knees, he had to question his sanity to willingly reach for the torture that reduced him to trembling and helpless on the ground. Izaiah panted on all fours, his skin hot and slicked with sweat, while he tried to blink color back into his surroundings.

“I don’t care for your life,” Zaiana said, crouching by him. “But I hope you’re doing this knowing the wreckage it will cause your brother if it fails.”

Breathing was like inhaling ash, but when his locked muscles began to ease from his attempt to merge with the ruin, he sat back.

“If? Careful—it’s beginning to sound like you actually have faith in me.” Izaiah’s eyes slipped closed as he was reminded of his friend in that word with two meanings.

To have Faythe.

To live like death is a game.

He grinned, perhaps delirious in this state while he tempted the dark force.

Love is a prize.

Should he succeed, it would be for them. All of what he was.

And danger is desire.

There was a life he’d lived when he’d cowered from anything dangerous, but that fae had had to die to survive the mines his father had enslaved him to.

“I’m going again,” he said through a labored breath.

“No, you’re not.”

He didn’t expect her to care, but Zaiana slipped the box closed. It wasn’t until the energy silenced with it that he realized how taut his body was at the power emanating through the catacombs.

Izaiah eyed the knife on the ground. He’d just open the Blood Box again.

“How do you know when you’re close tomergingwith it?” he quizzed.

Zaiana paced. Something else was on her mind today, and he’d bit back several instincts to question it.

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