Page 111 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Tarly thought Callen would take it; try the effects for himself. He set the bottle down.

“Seems like the new king will have to rethink his grand plan if you die before you produce an amount of substantial impact.”

Callen headed for the door.

“You’re leaving?” Tarly said.

“I have better things to do with my time than babysit this poor show.”

“What happened to keeping a close eye on me?”

“I have my ways, but by all means, do something foolish if you think you’re safe. It makes it more entertaining for me.”

Callen didn’t glance back again before he disappeared.

The tension in the room grew awkward. He didn’t know how to place himself around the two humans who continued to study him with bemusement and distrust.

“I can make the potions,” he said. “Then you just have to focus on spelling them.”

“Tauria believed in you,” Jakon threw at him with accusation.

Callen’s threat lingered in his absence. Tarly scanned the corners of the room for eyes.

“Faythe believed in you. I guess we’re all disappointments.”

Marlowe pushed something across the table to him. “We’re glad you’re here,” she said, so kind he didn’t expect it when her husband looked about ready to lunge for his throat.

What lay on the piece of fabric was small cuts of a Phoenix feather. A real one. He could hardly believe it and actually started to build excitement to work with it.

Jakon caressed Marlowe’s shoulder and neck, peering down at her with pain and concern, but she smiled up at him in an attempt at reassurance. That unspoken exchange relaxed Jakon, and Tarly had to admire their close bond.

He took up a seat on the bench, leaning into Marlowe’s warmth. Tarly’s heart ached worse than it ever had before. It reached and strained toward ripping in two from being apart from Nerida. He hadn’t meant to let her burrow inside him so deeply, but now there was no prying her out of his chest. So Tarly began his task, hoping it would distract him from the heavy parting he felt in his soul.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Tauria

Tauria had fallen asleep in Edith’s room for three nights now. She would retire right after supper with Mordecai, who mercifully didn’t subject her to any horrors. He didn’t ask her to sleep with him, but she didn’t want to take the chance of sleeping in her own room since he could infiltrate it at any time he liked.

Mordecai was occupied a lot, and she’d been rallying the courage to try to discover what kept him so busy here, but she was still shaken after his brutal display at their first supper, fearing his strength and unpredictability.

They would be returning to Fenstead soon, and she had to take every chance she had while in enemy territory.

So that night, Tauria dressed in all-black, her lower face covered and her hood tight, to become a wraith of the night. Edith insisted on coming with her, and though Tauria protested out of concern for her safety, she couldn’t deny the asset of having someone who knew the layout of this kingdom and castle.

“We should leave by the balcony,” Edith suggested.

Tauria agreed, as the risk of being seen dressed like this would alarm Mordecai.

“He should be leaving now,” Tauria said with a glance at the clock above the fireplace. Routinely, for the past two nights, she’d watched him from her window exiting the castle and disappearing after taking to the skies.

“Let’s go!” Edith chirped, far too eager for this dangerous venture, while Tauria was sharply on the edge of caution.

Edith had her wings, Tauria had her ability of wind, so neither feared the height nor the precarious climb across the frozen stone and slate roofs. As soon as Mordecai took flight, they would have to race to follow him. If Tauria couldn’t keep up, Edith would fly a little ahead just to keep track of him and act as a marker for Tauria to track.

Though the winter made the task more of an obstacle, scaling and racing across rooftops was a pastime of hers she was excited to test now.

The dark silhouette of the high lord made her tense. Edith was so giddy beside her it was almost concerning.

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