Page 67 of Legacy of the Heirs
“Larelle,” he whispered when they collided. He embraced her in a way that offered security she had not felt in years.
“Alvan.” She sobbed into his neck, breathing in his scent of forest trees drowning under sea water. His hands were firm against her back, as though he was afraid she might disappear again. She curled her fingers into his sodden shirt as his embrace reminded her of the ocean—home.
“I promised you,” he cried. “I promised you I would always be here.” He pulled back and clasped her cheeks while the falling water paused and spiralled, dancing around them, cocooning them in the safety of their embrace.
“You are here.” She smiled through her tears, resting her forehead against his. “You are here.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Nyzaia
Nyzaia could not remember the last time someone cried in her arms, as Farid did now. Before settling in for the night, she shouted up to the others and articulated her requests with hand signals. The syndicate had endured plenty of precarious situations where they were forced to communicate with only their hands. She instructed Jabir to keep watch and would motion for a rope in the morning, which he accepted without question. They trusted her guidance.
Nyzaia did not mind spending all hours of the night comforting Farid. They sat against a sidewall in the cave, with the flow of lava to their left. Farid’s head was on her shoulder, his breathing even and shallow. Through the gap in the forge's opening, Nyzaia watched the sunrise. She needed to wake Farid; they would need to move before the workers arrived.
“I am up,” he mumbled, lifting his head from her shoulder.
“I am not sure I will ever be accustomed to you sensing my feelings.” She smiled at him as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He grumbled. “Not a morning person?”
Farid glared at Nyzaia, and a wave of his exhaustion washed over her.
“We should get going. How is your rib?” He offered his hand and stood. Nyzaia prepared to wince as she rose, yet felt no pain. Unstrapping her leathers, she lifted the loose shirt underneath to find no bruises.
“Perhaps the tie healed me?” she asked, making a mental note to ask Elisara and Kazaar if they had experienced anything similar.She could not recall seeing either of the pair injured in Garridon, but amongst the chaos, she likely missed so much. Farid hummed as he approached the edge of the cavern and looked up.
“Ready?” he asked. Nyzaia dramatically glanced around the cave.
“Am I blind to the imaginary tools we will use for travel?” she asked. Farid’s head scanned the area below him. There were no sounds from the forge; they still had time. He turned back to her, his eyes glowing.
“We could fly?” he asked, and Nyzaia beamed as his wings emerged behind him.
“You don’t need to ask me twice.” In one swift movement, he scooped her up and cradled her. “I am less keen on this hold, though. Next time, I think I would prefer it if you—AHH!” Nyzaia screamed as Farid stepped off the ledge. It took a second for his wings to propel them upward, and Nyzaia’s scream of terror turned to one of joy as they soared. It did not take long before he veered onto the smaller ledge where she had fallen. It was a tight squeeze for the pair of them, and Nyzaia kept her body flush against the ledge to her right to avoid the lava falling to her left. She examined the metal vein in the rock, a dull grey streak that reached what she believed was the other half of the talisman. The piece around her neck warmed.Confirmation number one, Nyzaia thought as she peered closer to discern the engraved flames and sword matching the half around her neck.Confirmation number two.She reached for the talisman.
“Fuck!” she exclaimed, snatching her hand back. “It’s scolding hot!”
“Try to melt the metal holding it into the wall,” suggested Farid, crouched next to her. Nyzaia reached for the metal above it and let her flames burn for several minutes, but when she pulled back, there was no change. Nyzaia frowned.
“You try,” Nyzaia said uncertainly, inclining her head. “I have seen your wings, Farid, and I know you can wield a flame.” Shethought back to when he accidentally burned her in Khami; she should have known then that he possessed power over fire, but how had his fire burned Nyzaia given she was immune?
“It’s not the same as yours,” he sighed and reached towards the metal, flames bursting from his hand. He was right; they were not the same. While Nyzaia’s flame was orange like one would expect, Farid’s was ice blue.
He withdrew his hand, and metal dripped down the wall. Nyzaia reached for the talisman and flinched again when it scorched her fingertips. She gestured to Farid to take it, and he wrapped his fingers around the top of the talisman, which snapped as he broke off the bottom vein of metal.Does it have something to do with his flames being different or his wings?She could not understand why it would not let a ruler take it. Farid held it out in his open, scarred hand.
“I’m not touching it again!” she exclaimed. Farid’s mouth twitched as he ripped a piece of fabric from his uniform and tied it around the talisman. “You take care of it,” she urged.
He paused, watching for a moment, and she narrowed her eyes. He was trying to sense her emotions. Relenting, Farid tucked the talisman into the hidden breast pocket of his uniform. “What now?” he asked.
Nyzaia shuffled back towards the edge and peered upward. In the faint light of the rising sun, one silhouette appeared above—Jabir keeping watch like she requested. She waved her arm out and gestured pulling down, signalling for the rope. “We could have just done that to get here,” Farid said beside her. Nyzaia’s jaw dropped, feigning shock.
“Andnothave the chance to fly?” she exclaimed, grinning. Her smile widened when Farid rolled his eyes, and the rope dropped behind them, narrowly missing the flow of lava. Nyzaia shifted from a crouch and grazed her head as she reached for the rope and wrapped her legs around it. She gripped it with her knees and feet and began to climb. She glanced down when she felt no change inthe rope’s weight.
Farid stood, watching her intently.
“Are you not coming?” she called, and he shook his head.
“Not until I know you are safely at the top. I can grab the rope—and you—should anything happen again.”
She rolled her eyes. “You better not become too overprotective!” she shouted, turning back to climb. During the final few metres, her hands burned against the rope, reminding her of the scar on her hand.Shit.How could she explain that to those who saw it? A flicker of reassurance ignited within her, yet it belonged to Farid, who must have sensed the emotion.
