Page 77 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“It’s like…death,” she said.

“I gathered that. I’ve felt like it would claim me several times we’ve tried now.”

She shook her head. “What you feel is your physical body’s limit, convinced it’s dying. You need to surpass that—let the mind push further.”

“Aren’t they one and the same?”

“No. Your mind can wholly convince your body to shut down when it is perfectly well. It is the most powerful thing alive. So if it can kill its own host just by thought and emotion, it can transcend the physical punishment magick will try to convince you is enough to kill you. Take back control of your heart that will race to its influence, cool your blood it will set fire to. Magick can’t be fought physically—it has to be mastered mentally.”

Izaiah’s brows lifted in admiration. He had to admit, she was kind of brilliant, but not aloud.

“How did they teach you that?”

“They didn’t.”

He watched her, an arm folded over herself while the other propped her chin in her hand. It were as if she was in two places at once.

“Want to get off your mind what has you challenging the ground you’re wearing down?”

She seemed to contemplate. They barely tolerated each other as acquaintances, but perhaps down here, they could forget the past transgressions of above.

“Your heartbeat…do you believe it’s tied to your emotions?”

The question was as naïve as it was vulnerable, and at anyone else, he might have laughed.

“It’s nothing more than an organ that circulates blood.”

Izaiah found it somewhat tragic and ironic that someone so in tune with the mind could believe in such a fairy tale.

“I’ve heard it before,” she said so quietly the tension in the room became as fragile as glass. One wrong word, and it would shatter and raise steel to block him out again. “From fae and mortals. They become tricked by love and give each other their hearts. I’ve heard the declaration before.”

He didn’t expect the impact that slammed into him. She believed it. Perhaps Tynan did too. All of them. That their still hearts truly meant they couldn’t love.

“It’s not meant so literally,” Izaiah said, equally hushed, so as to walk on that glass with her.

She didn’t look at him, but he couldn’t stop watching her, so lost in thought he wondered what had brought on this new curiosity.

“Have you ever given yours?” she asked.

“No.”

“Would you?”

He didn’t know how they’d gotten here, but while they would go back to showing their claws to each other above, he kept them retracted for as long as this moment might last.

“Maybe,” he answered. “Though your kind is right about one thing. To give it, to love even in friendship, it is vulnerable. It is a weakness for any enemy to exploit, and the more spots you allow, the easier you are to kill.”

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

“I don’t think that’s what you’re wondering,” Izaiah said, feeling a crack on this rare pane they were balancing on. “You think you have a still heart to blame for all your heinous actions, but you don’t. Regardless of whether you managed to strike abeat in your chest, everything you’ve done is on you. But for what it’s worth…what I do think is that you’ve always chosen survival.”

“Aren’t we all creatures choosing that? Even Marvellas.”

“No. Or at least not anymore. She’s driven by power and greed. Marvellas sees a world not to her order, and she wants to fix it to her vision, no matter the devastation it would take to reconstruct it. It’s not her own survival that motivates her—it’s villainy believing it is heroism.”

Zaiana was silent, with her back to him for long enough he thought their moment was over.

“They’re cursed,” she said. “All of the dark fae. Led to believe they can’t find attachment to one another—can’t love. Shouldn’t mourn and shouldn’t hurt. Because they have no heart to be plagued by such weakness. They’re taught it’s what makes the dark fae superior, that being cold and ruthless is what will win them the land and freedom they deserve. It’s all a lie.”

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