Page 69 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“Where have you been?” he asked—a question that slipped from him with pain and tragedy.

He wished they could have met sooner. That maybe in a different time, they could have been everything.

Nerida’s fingers tangled though his shoulder-length blond hair.

“Wandering…just like you.”

He kissed her deeply. Nerida was something his soul didn’t know it had been searching for until she was here. Every vacant year and every numb decade was worth a day he got to feel alive with her.

“I want you,” he rasped. “So badly I can hardly stand it.”

“Then have me.”

Tarly’s lips trailed down her neck, savoring every note and feel of her. Storing every precious impression she’d made on him since they met, so he would remember until his very last breath there was once someone who’d wanted him in the end. And more than anything before, he wanted her.

“Not tonight,” he said, though it killed him to deny her.

Nerida’s small flicker of disappointment sank him, but she accepted it without pushing.

As they settled back down and she tucked herself into him more intimately this time, he tried to subdue his raging thoughts. How unfair fate was to grant the one thing he’d longed for more than anything…when it was too late.

Tarly left his tent in the middle of the night to relieve himself, careful not to disturb Nerida. His mind was so wrecked, in turmoil, he’d hardly managed to drift off at all.

The sharp air cut across his cheeks. and he missed the warmth of her and the blankets immediately. Before he made his way around, he spied a form sitting alone against a tree, a small blue fire ablaze in front of them. He was compelled to Faythe Ashfyre, not expecting her to be out here so late and by herself.

Her hand moved across the air in front of her, and when Tarly got close enough, he saw lettering, glowing like thin strokes of fire, being drawn by the guidance of her fingers. He was completely mesmerized by such magick, and when she finished, the words came together, amazingly forming a small Firebird that took flight.

Faythe’s head lolled against the trunk as she looked up at him. She offered a small smile of wordless greeting.

“What was that?” he asked, staring after the magick until its embers had disappeared through the canopy of the trees.

“A Fyremessage.”

Tarly crouched to steal heat from her blue fire, fascinated by the concept. He asked, by way of idle conversation, “Can’t sleep?”

“I can. Nerida’s tonic is really effective.”

“Ah. So your waking thoughts are too charged for you to let them go for a while.”

Faythe’s mouth quirked a little. “Care to share yours first?”

He huffed. “I hardly have anything that would interest you.”

“I might surprise you.”

“You have the fate of the world depending on you—everything must seem trivial in comparison.”

“We’re all threads in the fate of the world,” she said thoughtfully, staring into the fire. “The one who hacks down the evil Spirit can’t do so without the warriors who pave the way.”

Tarly had to admit he hadn’t thought much of Faythe when she was a human in Orlon’s court. Knowing what he did now, all that she truly was, he felt guilty for how little he’d noticed or cared. He’d watched them mock her; talk about her like she was nothing when she wasn’t around. It was quite phenomenal, who he was sitting beside now compared to then.

He said, “Considering what you’ve seen and been through, I think you deserve to take the leading credit.”

Faythe’s golden eyes were brilliant with the blue flame marching in them. He couldn’t help but feel inspired, as if he were in the presence of something higher than he could comprehend, yet still so mortal, humble, at the same time.

“I don’t want any of that,” she said honestly, quietly. “I want peace like anyone else. I’ve made and will continue to make selfish choices like anyone else.”

Tarly admired her honesty since it would be easy for her to gloat in all the power she had, and he thought she should take glory, considering all who’d looked down on her before she had any of it.

---