A Queen Comes to Power: An Heir Comes to Rise Book 2 Read online

  King Varlas nodded respectfully. “Wisely said. I look forward to seeing you in action then.”

  When everyone’s attention had dispersed, the thought dawned on her. She was an awful hunter. What was worse, she had hopeless aim with a bow and had never even ridden on horseback before.

  Faythe tuned out of all conversation after her impulsive statement, eager for the gathering to be over so she could retreat back to solitude and work out the mess in her head.

  The most concerning thought…was that the week had barely begun.

  Chapter 19

  Tauria

  “Lady Tauria?”

  The king’s ward snapped her head back to the Prince of Olmstone. Her cheeks heated as she realized she had missed what Tarly said completely. Even more embarrassing was that he followed her line of sight and caught on to exactly who had distracted her.

  Prince Nikalias sat across the room, engaged in conversation with the Rhyenelle general and his companions at a table farther down the games hall. She had more than once caught his glance in her direction while she sat alone with the Olmstone prince. Every time their eyes locked, she felt her stomach flutter and cursed herself for paying him any attention at all.

  “Forgive me—it’s getting a bit stuffy in here. Care to accompany me on a walk in the gardens?” It was the best excuse she could come up with, and she knew the prince would appreciate her offer of alone time.

  He nodded with a smile, and they rose from the chaise longues. Tauria took the arm he extended in offering, and the pair strolled from the hall. She dared one last look at Nik and quickly averted her gaze, lifting her chin when she found him to be tracking them as they left.

  Prince Tarly was more pretty than handsome, with his blond hair and brown eyes that made him look elegant and delicate. He was charming, if a little boring. Tauria could imagine a happy, content life with him. It would be a suitable match for their kingdoms’ alliance after all. Yet even at the mere prospect, she couldn’t help but feel her stomach drop as if her heart already belonged to another.

  Tauria sat in an armchair by the fire in her rooms after a delirious day of talking politics with Tarly. She felt guilty because her boredom had less to do with the prince’s company and more to do with her brooding need for solitude. To occupy her mind, she retrieved a book about the Spirits from the library and splayed the pages over her knees, becoming quickly lost in reading. She had been alone in her rooms for over an hour since supper with the Prince of Olmstone, and she was glad for the peace.

  Since their guests’ arrival, Tauria had not resisted any offer to spend time with Tarly. She knew it was in her own best interests to explore the possibility of the match that was obviously favorable with his father and King Orlon. Love—well, she supposed that was always destined to come second to duty with the role she was born into. Her parents were not mates but had learned to find deeper feelings. All Tauria could hope for was the blessing of the same when the day came for her to sacrifice her hand for the good of her kingdom. She tried not to dwell on the idea, feeing her mood grow somber every time she did.

  As much as she was grateful to the King of High Farrow for opening his home to her in a time of desperation, she didn’t like that it now seemed as if he held her fate in his hands. As if her choices weren’t always entirely hers to make, and this was only now coming to light as the price of his refuge all that time ago. She refused to be anyone’s property and only explored the union with Tarly for herself with her own kingdom’s future in mind.

  Five knocks sounded at her door in a specific short sequence. She pictured the familiar face and head of inky black hair before he twisted the handle and welcomed himself in.

  After over a century of living in the same castle, Nik and Tauria had settled into a natural routine with each other and quickly abandoned all formalities and etiquette when it came to visiting each other’s rooms. She’d arrived a broken female, having lost everything. Nik was the single thing that kept her together and brought back her will to keep on living. Then, when the prince lost his own mother, she was right there for him as he had been for her. They were undeniably bonded.

  “What are you reading?” he asked by way of greeting.

  She knew he wasn’t really interested in the pages on her lap as he took up the armchair opposite. “A volume on the Spirits, to see if there’s anything I can find out about the ruin,” she answered anyway.

  “Hmm.” Nik braced his forearms over his knees. “Good idea.”

  Tauria waited patiently, watching while he stared at the cobalt flames in silent thought. When he didn’t explain his visit, she asked plainly, “Why are you here?”

  His emerald orbs turned back to her. “Do I need a reason?” he countered, and she caught the note of hurt in his tone.

  She took a long breath. “We have guests. You know it’s not proper for—”

  Nik cut her off with a single dry laugh. “Is this about Tarly?” It was horribly out of character for him, but her temper flared at the insinuation.

  “That is none of your business,” she said firmly.

  He straightened. “He’s only interested in you for the prospect of gaining a foothold in your kingdom.”

  Tauria slammed her book shut, also sitting upright. “I don’t need you to look out for me. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you? Flaunting yourself around him like some possession to be won?”

  She shot to her feet and cast her arm toward the door. “Get out.”

  Nik rose from his chair but made no move to do as she commanded. “I only came to warn you.”

  “Is it really so inconceivable that someone might actually like me for me and not just for political gain?”

  Nik scoffed. “In the game we play, I’d expect you not to be so naïve.”

  He may as well have struck her as his words and bitter tone stung far more than a physical blow. Her eyes burned, but she would not let a single tear pool to the surface.

  “You really are an asshole, Nik. You can bed as many court ladies as you like, yet when I get the slightest bit of attention, I’m being reckless. It’s a new low, especially for you.”

  The prince’s expression shifted from quiet agitation to guilt that she was right. She was unpleasantly surprised when his sour side took precedence.

  “Just don’t come knocking on my door when the realization sets in.” With that, Nik stormed out of her rooms, closing the door with more force than necessary.

  Tauria remained where she stood, completely stunned by his outburst that was so unlike the gentle prince she knew. When his last words sank in, within the arms of solitude, she allowed the tears to form and fall.

  Her heart ached as she climbed into bed, where she finally gave in to the sadness and frustration that had been crushing her, just for one night. With the new dawn, she would rise and put on her mask of contentment once again.

  Chapter 20

  Faythe

  Faythe was as stealthy and alert as a hawk as she left her rooms after midnight while the rest of the castle slept. She was too aware of the general who dwelled in the rooms opposite and was mindful of his fae hearing when she snuck out. Though she expected most to be soundly in bed by now, it hadn’t stopped him from following her on his first night here, and she didn’t want another encounter like that where she was headed.

  It was coming up to the fourth day of High Farrow playing host to the other kingdoms, and her self-invitation to join the royal courts in a final hunt had not been forgotten. They scheduled it for the last day of their stay, and Varlas had indicated his excitement over her presence more than once in the couple of days she’d spent with him.

  This left Faythe only three days to familiarize herself with a horse and a bow. It would be to her eternal humiliation if she couldn’t even mount a horse, never mind ride one, so her destination for the night was the stables. She figured now was the perfect time. Even though her body and mind longed for restful sleep after endless days of court chatter and
pleasantries, she knew no one would be around to notice her obvious inexperience with the large beasts.

  Faythe was jittery even thinking about trying to mount a horse when it could easily trample her or throw her a mile if it felt like it. She had been a fool to include herself in the event in the first place, but she couldn’t back out now.

  She made it through the castle and out of the servants’ quarters without being seen by a single guard and kept the hood of her black cloak up as she scurried through the grounds toward the stables. The night was eerily dark and bitterly cold. A torch would be an obvious giveaway, but she longed for the light and warmth of one.

  The moon was bright, however, illuminating enough of the space that she could make out the individual horses as they shuffled around in their stables. They were magnificent creatures. Huge and dominating, yet beautiful and calm. One in particular poked its giant head over the wooden gate at her approach. She was struck by its dark perfection, allured as it stared back at her, stark black all over that blended into the darkness of the night. Except it stood out with eyes of glacier blue, and Faythe felt herself drawn to the fantastic beast.

  She walked over slowly, cautiously, knowing one wrong movement could spook a horse and terrify her if they started restlessly shifting. A few other horses turned to gaze at her, but the black beauty remained the most inquisitive. When she reached out a hand, it pushed its large snout out farther as if to meet her touch. Its hair was like glossy satin under her fingertips, and she marveled at the smooth luxury of its coat.

  Faythe had seen horses before but had never gotten the chance to experience such an intimate moment with one. The thought of riding on the back of such an impressive species made her giddy with a thrill but also terrified.

  “She doesn’t usually take to strangers.”

  Faythe jumped back in fright, whirling toward the voice that had disturbed her moment of quiet thought. At the sight of Reylan, she gaped in disbelief. How had he managed to follow her once again?

  “Gods, do you ever sleep?” She scowled angrily.

  His hair rivaled the moon as it seemed to shine brighter in the dark, all hues of gray and silver turned to chalk white. “I happened to be here already. Your weak human senses simply failed to notice.” He stood with arms crossed, looking over at her with stern inquisition.

  Faythe shifted restlessly, no excuse for why she was in the stables in the middle of the night. Though she supposed she wasn’t the only one who needed to explain why they were here in the late hour. Neither of them asked the direct question. Instead, Reylan’s head tilted, and his eyes flashed between her and the mare at her side.

  “Do your little mind tricks extend to animals too?”

  Faythe’s stomach dropped. There it was: the confirmation she’d been waiting to hear for days, refusing to be the first to mention it in the fool’s hope she was wrong. Reylan did know about her ability.

  “So, you do know,” she stated.

  He didn’t respond and instead conjured a bright blue flame before lighting the four surrounding torches.

  “You have quite the mind talent yourself,” she commented, trying to keep her calm.

  “There is a High Farrow guard who is conveniently a Firewielder. He won’t even miss the kernel of power I borrowed,” Reylan said as he admired the dancing flames. It filled Faythe with questions about how his ability worked as she’d felt the complete loss of hers the first night.

  As if knowing what floated in her mind, Reylan continued. “Your particular ability was quite fun, if a little heavy. Having all that power to reach into a person’s mind and take whatever you want, to be able to kill with one thought…” He took a subtle step toward her.

  Faythe couldn’t be sure if intimidation was his game or if this was his attempt to better gauge her reaction. She remained impassive externally.

  “Why haven’t you told anyone?” she dared to ask.

  A cruel smile curled at the corner of his lips. “Who do you expect me to tell?”

  It was a taunt. He delighted in having the upper hand, believing Faythe was a mouse in his trap. It made her fists curl to consider herself as such.

  “The king? I don’t suppose it matters which one.”

  Reylan huffed a single laugh, eyes twinkling in amusement. “What would be the fun in that?”

  Faythe turned even colder and was glad for her cloak to hide her slight tremble. Something in the gleam of his look made her fear the general’s idea of fun more than the repercussions of being turned in.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you knew sooner?”

  Reylan shrugged casually. “You didn’t tell me of your ability—why would I expose mine?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I assume the prince warned you. He does seem to have a particular affection for you.”

  It wasn’t a question, and Faythe noticed his eyes flash to her chest where Nik’s gift—the necklace—lay even though it was concealed under her cloak. She didn’t want to ask how he knew of it.

  “What do you want?” she asked, temper rising at his arrogance. He had her, and he knew it.

  His eyes hardened then, amusement disappearing in an instant. “I want to know how a human girl comes to be the King of High Farrow’s spy.”

  “I’m not a girl,” she snapped. “And I’m no one’s spy.”

  Reylan’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward to close the distance between them. Faythe held firm against the white lion who promised a swift death if he found her to be even a slight threat. He assessed her with a fixed stare for a moment longer before speaking again.

  “What if I said you could trust me?”

  Faythe blinked in surprise, her brow creasing in confusion as he skipped from foe to friend, the contrasting twist almost giving her whiplash. “I’d say you wouldn’t trust a lion with a lamb.”

  “I think you’re hardly as feeble as a lamb—despite being human.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Am I?”

  They stared off in challenge, the intensity growing electric between them. When Faythe could no longer stand the hum of the phantom current, she broke first.

  “King Orlon will vow to have no knowledge of my ability. You can out me. I suppose it might win you some favor with your king for a rare find. Either way, I’m already dead.”

  The general hummed, unfazed. “I didn’t take you for one to give up so easily.”

  “If you expect me to grovel at your feet for my life, you’ll be greatly disappointed.”

  “Now, that would be a sight, but no.” He took a few more steps forward, reaching a hand up to stroke the great black beauty’s mane.

  Faythe tried not to pay his closeness any attention, but she couldn’t ignore the shallow fire inside at his proximity.

  “I expect you to own what you are and fight for yourself. So far, all I’ve seen is a submissive pet to the king who holds her leash, cowering at the slightest threat.” His eyes met hers again, stars dancing in them from the infusion of moonlight and flickering flame.

  Faythe frowned, taken aback. It was not what she expected from the Rhyenelle general—someone who held her life in his hands should he choose to share her deadly secret with those with the power to put her down. Yet instead, it was almost as if he was helping her.

  “I don’t have a choice,” she said lamely.

  Reylan clicked his tongue. “How disappointing.”

  Her anger flared, and when he didn’t continue, she snapped, “What?”

  He deliberately left another pause of silence, fighting an amused smile at her obvious impatience. Arrogant pain in my a—

  “Such a weak excuse. I guess I was wrong.” He continued his lazy strokes of the horse’s head and didn’t meet her eye again. “You really are just as pathetic as you appear.”

  Faythe hated that the comment stung. “You don’t know anything,” she hissed defensively.

  “Care to enlighten me?”

  Her eyes narrowed on the gen
eral, and she backed up a step, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked at him accusingly. “If you’re trying to turn the tables to get information, I’d rather you kill me. I may not have love for the king, but I won’t betray High Farrow.”

  Reylan grinned, flashing a perfect set of white teeth at getting the entertainment he sought from riling her up. She cursed internally for allowing herself to react to his bait.

  “You’re sharp, I’ll give you that. And your loyalty is admirable.”

  She waited for the catch.

  “What reason would Orlon have to want you poking around the minds of his allies?”

  If Faythe was honest, she’d admit to him she had the same burning question. Instead, she dropped her arms, appearing bored of the conversation. “He only wants to be sure no one is working against him. Royals can be very insecure.”

  Reylan was far from convinced. “You’ll understand my concerns for my kingdom,” he said as if it would coax her to realize his motives.

  “I’m already walking a fine line to the gallows. I won’t get involved on two sides.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I simply want to be certain your king doesn’t pose a threat to mine.”

  “Royals change their minds faster than clothing. Neither you nor I can be certain what they’re thinking from one minute to the next. I say we let them figure it out for their damned selves.”

  If she didn’t know any better, she’d interpret his look as agreement laced with a hint of approval. Reylan said nothing. Instead, he wordlessly reached out a hand to the lock of the stable, and it came loose with a click. Faythe backed up a few long strides when he swung open the only protection they had against one of the beast’s powerful hooves.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice dropping in fear.

  The black mare took a few steps out, rays of the white moonlight glistening against its sleek body. It stood impressively tall. Faythe balked, feeling silly for thinking the beast inferior to her.