Page 59 of Legacy of the Heirs
The flames flickered again and changed colour. The corner of Kazaar’s lip twitched as he looked down at her and their interlaced hands. She felt like a giddy child as she glanced at her feet to hide her smile, which soon disappeared when she noticed the dark tendrils twisting from below their feet. She withdrew her hand quickly and stepped back in the same instant Kazaar dropped his flames. Elisara did not know if he frowned at the shadows or the incomplete effect of his flames on the ice. While the top quarter of the maze had melted, the frozen walls remained.
Elisara took a cautious step forward away from Kazaar, for fear of the shadows returning, though a more rational side of her concluded that they only appeared on occasion when the pair were connected. Vlad rushed to her side, almost tripping as he held out an arm to keep Elisara from walking into the maze. She scoffed.
“I think I will be okay, Vlad,” she said.
“Since when have the commander’s flames been unable to melt something?” Vlad asked, his voice hushed. Elisara shook her head. “Maybe we should consider that there is more to this maze than meets the eye.”
Elisara turned over his words. He was right; there was no chance her father’s or even her grandmother’s power was strong enough to build such walls. Something reinforced its power. Elisara glanced sideways at Kazaar.
“He is right,”Kazaar said.
“Did it feel different? Using the flame on it?”
Kazaar shook his head.“I expected it to have melted when Ireleased the control on my power.”
“Could it be the talisman? If we are nearing such a power source, could it be protecting itself?”
“I suppose we will know when we speak to the other rulers and discover if they faced any defences.”Elisara nodded and stepped into the maze behind Vlad.
“How do we decide?” Vlad asked, glancing between the paths on his left and right and the other two options ahead. Elisara peered down the first path to their left and then the right. Both were identical: long, thin paths with sharp angles where new openings appeared. Nothing seemed special about either. Elisara indicated with a nod of her head for Vlad to check the next. He claimed it was the same as the others. There was no significance to any of the pathways.
“I suppose we just guess?” Vlad asked. Elisara looked at Kazaar to see if he had any ideas. He strode towards the path on the right and took two steps into the pathway; he hardly fit within the space, given the breadth of his shoulders.
“Kazaar,” Elisara called, though he did not acknowledge her. He tensed and tilted his head. Elisara waved a rush of air to kiss his skin, and he turned back to face them, shaking his head.
“I thought I heard something,” he murmured, furrowing his brow.
“It was probably the wind making noises through the narrow pathways,” suggested Vlad. Kazaar frowned but slowly nodded, glancing behind him into the pathway that darkened the further one travelled.
“You’re probably–” Kazaar did not finish his sentence as a wall of ice shot up from the ground and sealed him within the maze.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Nyzaia
It was as though the Keres heat had evaporated as Nyzaia froze. She gripped her side and used her other hand to prop her up into a seated position. Countless times, she had opened and closed her mouth to speak, but what does one say when the captain of their guard saves your life by flying to catch you?
Please do not tell anyone.
That was all Farid said when she turned to find him. He had said nothing since. Sadness and disappointment brimmed in his pale blue eyes that burned alongside the flamed wings on his back. Having learned more about her captain’s ways lately and understanding his dedication to her, Nyzaia knew he was disappointed in himself for keeping this from her.
Nyzaia propped herself up and winced at the pain in her ribs, likely cracked from the impact. Farid winced, too, as she shuffled towards him so as not to strain her side. He bowed his head when she reached him. Nyzaia frowned, saddened by his guilt, and knelt before him. Never in her life had Nyzaia imagined she would be jealous of a man, but as she gazed upon the wings protruding from Farid’s back, the feeling consumed her. He had wings. It was no illusion or trick of the light. Farid had actual, beautiful wings. Nyzaia reached for them slowly to signal her intentions to Farid. Still, he hung his head and avoided her eyes. The flames flickered on his wings and licked her hand as she reached through to graze the deep red feathers. Her fingers paused at the tips dipped in gold, only visible if you were close enough to see through the individual flames on each.
Farid’s wings were tucked taunt behind his back, the curved tops standing high above his head.
“Show me,” Nyzaia breathed. Farid gulped as her fingers graced another feather. “Show me, Farid.” she commanded. Farid rolled his shoulders back, and Nyzaia audibly gasped at the magnificence of his wings as he released them. A soft glow emanated from them and filled the room, his wingspan completely blocking the opening. Nyzaia had seen wings only twice before: those illustrated in children’s books and on the creatures that attacked Garridon. But Farid’s wings were different. The creatures were dark, ragged—an embodiment of torment and horror—while Farid’s were magnificent, regal, and warm. Still, he had kept them from her. Although Nyzaia wanted to trust Farid and felt a connection urging her to do so, she would be negligent not to question if there was more to his wings. Farid shifted and reached for the sickle blade at his side, offering it to Nyzaia with his head bowed.
“Take them,” he murmured. Frowning, Nyzaia glanced between him and the blade catching the light before looking back to him.
“What do you mean?” she asked gently.
“My wings. Take them,” he said, a firm edge in his voice. “I betrayed my queen; I kept this from you. Take them.” He offered her the blade, which rested on his open palms. Farid knelt before her, having exposed his closest secret to save her life. Yet the guilt consumed him so much that he wished for her to slice away a part of him. Pain flitted through Nyzaia’s chest. She placed her hand on the blade and pushed his hands down.
“Look at me, Farid,” she commanded, igniting her own palms in flames and reaching for his hands. His shoulders shuddered as he slowly raised his head, his burning blue eyes colliding with the amber flames flickering in her own. The two knelt before one another, bathed in the fire of his wings and the flame of her blood. A silent tear rolled down Farid’s golden-brown skin as he clenched his jaw to keep it from wobbling. Nyzaia grasped his hands and held them on her thighs. “I will not take what you have used toselflessly save me.”
“They make me dangerous. A liability.”
Nyzaia shook her head. “You saved me, Farid. You savedyour queen.” Nyzaia stressed what she knew he deemed most important: his loyalty to her.
