Page 351 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Kyleer entered inconspicuously through a side door, giving Faythe a solemn shake of his head.

Zaiana wouldn’t come.

She’d refused her title as the Queen of Valgard profusely. The dark fae was grieving still, and though Faythe could harbor no sorrow for Maverick’s death after all he’d done, she understood Zaiana’s loss. Maverick wasn’t her villain; he was herreflection, and in the end…for all that time he’d hidden behind wickedness…her protector.

Above that, Zaiana had gotten no closure for his death, with Mordecai still unaccounted for. There had been no sightings even though they’d all contributed efforts to try to track him. Faythe knew that was what kept Zaiana preoccupied too.

“We can’t stall much longer,” Reylan said close to her ear. He raised their linked fingers, kissing her knuckles.

Faythe smiled fondly at him, still giddy with butterflies in her stomach every time their eyes met so close. He was absolutely breathtaking in his royal black, gold, and crimson wears. A modest gold crown adorned his silver hair, and Faythe would never stop considering herself the luckiest person alive to have him.

“We can begin,” she said, squeezing his hand before letting go.

Faythe glanced over the table, taken by love and pride at the sight of all her friends and allies gathered together with nothing but hope and joy to discuss. The others chatted among themselves, and she basked in a moment longer to watch their happiness.

Nik and Tauria leaned into each other, talking conspiratorially, with such bright grins and soft chuckles. While Nik wore his usual color of deep blue and Tauria had kept her emerald green gowns, they’d merged kingdoms proudly in the deep green sash Nik wore around his middle, and in Tauria’s, which was blue. Their crowns matched, curving up into a subtle peak at the front like antlers. Their kingdom crests sat side by side as brass pins on their ceremonial shoulder cloaks.

Her dear friends were absolutely exquisite depictions of love and royalty.

Tarly and Nerida wore white and gold, appearing so ethereal it stole Faythe’s breath when they first arrived. Nerida wasknown as Queen Amelie Da’Naid to her people but cherished her humble wanderers’ name, Nerida, among her friends at this table. Tarly had stayed true to his decision, relinquishing his claim on the Olmstone throne despite Nerida’s protests. The humble prince wanted to be hers—as her consort, nothing more. He’d given his throne to his sister, Opal, who was too young to rule alone, but her mother sat by her side, reformed and freed from her life by Varlas Wolverlon’s cold side. Both wore the familiar wears of Olmstone in their color of deep purple.

Faythe’s sight lingered on the vacant chair in front of Valgard’s serpent crest carved on the table. The island that was condemned as the villain was no different to them. The citizens, mostly dark fae, wanted peace and connection with the mainland after so long in barren isolation. Their lands still didn’t grow anything natural, and Faythe, along with all the others, was committed to helping them with trade plans. Without a monarch, things were uncertain for the kingdom, but Faythe hadn’t given up hope that Zaiana might return and claim her birthright.

She’d wanted Zaiana to be a part of this day, but as Kyleer had tried to keep track of her, every time he made contact, it was not a welcome reception.

Faythe watched Kyleer make his way silently around the table to stand behind where Faythe and Reylan sat, joining his brother Izaiah, and Tynan who had seamlessly joined Rhyenelle military ranks after the war.

The table was a deep walnut, with the crest of all seven kingdoms burnished into the wood in front of each monarch. Faythe’s fingers grazed proudly over her Phoenix emblem.

“I have a surprise waiting for you,” Reylan murmured. His low tone broke a shiver down her spine.

“Is this you trying to hurry the meeting along?”

She turned her head to him, and he’d leaned his elbow on his armrest, lazily reclining as he watched her. His smile was devious. His fingers brushed her cheek.

“Absolutely.”

Faythe needed no more encouragement. Her palm flattened over the large Phoenix emblem on the table, and her magick spilled into the lines, making it glow. In turn, the others around the table lit up one by one too.

In front of the owl crest of Dalrune, there was no seat but a statue. Faythe didn’t see Maverick Blackfair when she looked at it—the dark fae who’d killed her, killed Agalhor, and killed many to spare the unforgivable deeds from Zaiana. Carved in royal finery, poised bravely, and wearing the crown of Dalrune…was Callen Osirion.

All seven kingdom emblems stayed glowing when Faythe settled her hand back in her lap, and they wouldn’t burn out until the meeting was over.

It hushed the others into attentive silence.

Faythe drew a long breath, leveling her chin. “Before we turn grossly formal as monarchs to discuss kingdom matters, I have to say this…” She had to pause, swallowing the lump in her throat, the emotion of pure gratitude and love. “We fought through the Nether for these lands, and for each other. Ungardia has never been stronger, more united, than it is with us. I hope history remembers us not just as victors and rulers of the darkest hours our world has seen, but as the family we found in each other that kept us strong. That our bonds with each other made sure we could not lose. We all have our kingdoms to rule, but we are one land, one people, and a movement against one of us is a movement against all of us. The dawn of a United Ungardia starts here.”

Nik’s eyes sparkled with endearment while his half-smile turned up in amusement. “For one not raised into this role likethe rest of us, you truly are a remarkable beacon of an example. You couldn’t have done this without us, but we all needed you as much as you needed us.”

Tauria sniffed. “You promised this wouldn’t get emotional.”

Everyone chuckled, and Tauria’s eyes weren’t the only ones glistening. It was difficult to release their breath and settle into their peace after so long fighting.

Tarly said, “I didn’t think I’d be here. For a long time, I didn’t even think I wanted to be. I found reason in Nerida, but I found acceptance in all of you.”

The graying skin from his dark fae bite had never reversed, but he had full function of his arm and his hand. Though she didn’t know him as well, Faythe was glad he’d survived it. Tarly Wolverlon was a hero as much as any of them for his tactics in the war.

“I learned how to grow vegetables!” Opal said excitedly.

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