Page 315 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“How could you wish that kind of pain upon your own child?” Nerida said in horror.

Tarly answered, “Because I wasn’t his child anymore.”

Nerida’s grip tightened, then she stepped forward in a rare flash of anger, pointing a finger though the bars at his father. “You never deserved him,” she said angrily. “You don’t know half the amazing things he’s achieved and all the great things he is. You didn’t care to discover your son had healing magick within him. Despite everything, he is the most considerate person you had no part or privilege in raising.”

Tarly let go of her hand to circle an arm around her waist, drawing her to him. “You saw everything before I could even see it myself,” he said, low and close to her ear.

Her anger dissolved, relaxing her body into him.

“Everything was worth it to make it to you. My mate. My one and only remarkable mate.”

“You-you have healing magick?” his father croaked. Though it wasn’t out of any pride when he followed with, “Will you help me…please?”

His father tried to shift, but it was like his body had decayed into the stone where he sat.

Tarly’s jaw locked. “Yes, Father. I will.”

He leaned down to Nerida’s pouch, retrieving a vial. Nerida exchanged a look of surprise with him, but she didn’t object.

The bottle rolled across the stone, hitting his father’s leg. He scrambled for it as if it were his first drop of water after days through the desert.

He drank the small potion eagerly, letting the bottle slip from his clumsy grip afterward, and it shattered.

Tarly wandered over to the front of his cell, wrapping a hand around a thick bar and leaning his head to the cold metal. He closed his eyes, tuning in to the shallow beats of his father’s heart. Nerida closed in after a few seconds, laying her head against his back in solace.

No one moved. No one spoke.

His father’s last breaths where wheezes and chokes. The tonic he’d consumed was an anti-inflammatory, but since that wasn’t a correct diagnosis for what his father was going through, it would slowly decrease his heart rate until it stopped.

The silence that settled after the final beat declared Tarly the King of Olmstone, but still, he would not take that crown when the war was over. For now, he would do what he had to do.

Zainaid returned at last just as Tauria woke up, still weak and disorientated, but coming around stronger each hour.

“You shouldn’t have come here now,” Zainaid said, his tone hushed. The chief’s eyes skimmed over to the dead king, and he winced, casting a knowing look at Tarly, who gave no reaction.

“We didn’t have a choice. Now tell me what’s going on here,” Tarly demanded.

“This is one of Dakodas’s strongest fortresses. She’s stationed much of her army here from Valgard, with more arriving every day. They’re planning to move onto the fringe soon.”

“We know this,” Nik said. “What we’re wondering is if you’ve decided to save yourself and join them truly.”

The chief’s expression flexed. “They expect me to lead what’s left of Olmstone’s army into battle with Valgard. I’ll admit, I was running out of options until you showed up. Foolish—you were never getting through Olmstone without being detected by the spies that crawl this place—but we need you, Tarly. These soldiers are afraid and will follow me into battle even against what they believe in. Unless they see a Wolverlon still lives—still stands to fight against the enemy and will not yield.”

“Why can’t you lead them against Valgard?” Tarly asked.

“You royals are a symbol to the people. You have the strength and abilities like many common folk, but it is your legacy they believe in. The name that has led them through every trial and change of history for generations. Not every heir born can live up to the expectation that weighs on a crown… Can you, Tarly Wolverlon?”

He looked to Nerida, his pillar of strength and belief. The Queen of Lakelaria who, against her fears, had declared herself and become the symbol needed for the rebellion on the grand island to act against Marvellas for the first time. Now it was his turn.

Tarly lifted his chin. “What do you need me to do?”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

Faythe

Faythe flew with her wings of Phoenixfyre while Reylan took the form of an eagle. They landed on in the Fire Mountains for rest before they would press on over to the Niltain Isles.

When her feet touched ground, her wings singed away immediately, and she caught herself on her thighs, exerted from the flat-out day of flying.

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