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

  The meeting was fully underway now, and Faythe had already met the eye of all the lords facing her and captured a glimpse into their minds. It was easy enough to project a thought for them to look at her, and once she caught their eye, she no longer needed to hold their stare. Even when they quickly averted their gazes from the strange human standing in the shadows, she would still be riffling around their heads.

  They all noted her presence with a curiosity and distaste that was strongly reflected in their thoughts, loud and clear for her to hear. Their obliviousness was too amusing for Faythe to be insulted by their internal slander. The only humans any of them were used to were the ones who kept their goblets topped up. Faythe no longer felt bad for the invasion of their minds, finding most of the lords to be as imperious and arrogant as the king himself.

  Faythe inconspicuously floated herself around to the other side of the room to stand mirroring her previous position, as she always did, and began probing into the minds of the lords who had been seated with their backs to her. It was deliriously dull, and she was exhausted from her exertion that morning, both in the training room and her wild sprint. Her eyelids drooped a couple of times, and she was jerked awake every time a new voice fought to be the loudest in the room. She didn’t pay any attention to the tiresome affairs they conversed—or rather, argued—about, instead counting the minutes internally with no way of knowing how much time had passed.

  After what she gauged to be close to an hour, the king bellowed over the petty squabbling of high fae, silencing the room immediately. Faythe refrained from slouching in relief as he relayed his conclusion to the rather pointless formal gathering. The only time she ever longed to hear the wicked ruler’s voice was to signal that yet another exasperating meeting was adjourned.

  The Lords of High Farrow stood, chatting idly to each other as they slowly filed out of the room. She watched each of their backs as they exited, far too slow in her impatience. The king and prince remained in their seats, and Faythe didn’t flinch from her position until every other noble set of pointed ears had left and the grand doors were closed once again.

  Faythe visibly relaxed the moment she heard them groan shut, rolling her stiff shoulders before sauntering over the king. She stopped and braced her hands on the back of an empty chair.

  “Anything to report?” the king asked, sounding as bored as she felt.

  She rubbed her right temple. “Lord Devon thinks he’s being very undermined and that his lands are not big enough, if that interests you.”

  The king only scoffed.

  She went on anyway. “Lord Vactus feels your plans for the fortification’s defenses are weak, but he’s too afraid to speak out. Lord Folly detests the sound of your voice. The repetition of the word fool was hard to ignore. But you can’t please them all, right?”

  The king’s jaw flexed at the insult while the prince’s mouth twitched at one corner, fighting back amusement.

  “No one’s planning or conspiring against you as of late. It’s all getting a bit dull, really.”

  Orlon leaned back in his mighty chair, propping an elbow on the velvet-clad arm to hold his powerful jaw in quiet contemplation. He didn’t need the grandeur of a throne to assert his dominance as it radiated across the hall, yet she couldn’t imagine him seated in anything less.

  Faythe stayed silent, waiting for her dismissal, which was usually quick. When he didn’t immediately relieve her of duty for the afternoon, her stomach started to knot with dread.

  Orlon took a long breath before he spoke again. “High Farrow is to host King Varlas of Olmstone and King Agalhor of Rhyenelle next week. They will be staying with us for one week for the kings’ meetings.”

  Faythe’s fingers curled around the wood of the chair tighter out of nervousness. She silently damned the Spirits to burn, already anticipating the dangerous proposition that was about to fall on her shoulders.

  “I shall require your presence to confirm their loyalty in the alliance is true, and I should like to find out their defense plans for their kingdoms above what they might disclose.”

  Hearing it out loud still made her blanch in horror at the thought of prying into the minds of the ancient and powerful rulers of Ungardia. She dropped her limp arms to her sides.

  “With all due respect, Your Majesty—”

  “Let me be clear: It is not a request,” he said firmly, swiftly cutting off her protest. “I hope you have mastered your little mind tricks, spymaster. If one of them discovers you poking around, make no mistake, I will gladly hand you over to them and deny any knowledge.”

  Faythe swallowed hard, though it did nothing to relieve the dry pain in her throat.

  King Orlon waited expectantly, and she reluctantly offered a small nod of obedience. A sly, satisfied smile spread wide across his cruel face. The look twisted her gut. Then he waved a lazy hand in dismissal, and she stumbled back a step, bowing her head before twisting sharply to storm for the exit, desperate to leave before the air in the council chamber became too thick to inhale.

  Making haste through the doors, she remained rigid, marching through the halls while her mind reeled over the insanely daunting task bestowed upon her. She had only just grown accustomed to filtering through the minds of the Lords of High Farrow, and she had the protection of the king if she happened to be discovered. He would be able to silence any of them to keep his secret weapon from public knowledge. To spy into the mind of another king, however… There would be no salvation if she were caught, and the consequences didn’t bear thinking about.

  Her hands trembled, and she clamped her fists tight, fingernails biting into her palms out of fear and anger. She felt hot and restricted, unbuttoning her jacket in the hall before her rooms, thinking she might suffocate if she waited any longer. She wanted to burn the uniform to ash—the thing that made her shackles as the king’s slave visible for all to see.

  Barging through her chamber doors, she tore the royal blue coat from her shoulders, tossing it onto the bed and untying the top of her shirt to allow the air to breeze across her chest. Hauling open the balcony doors next, she took a long, deep breath of the bitter winter air that had chased away the autumn all at once last month. Winter was always the longest season, but Faythe welcomed the extended nights and chilly wind. The sun didn’t shy in the presence of the coldest season and still beamed its powerful rays down on the marvelous, impeccable city. The reflections off the tall glass and white stone made it a sea of glittering crystal to look upon.

  Today’s sun offered no warmth, but as a tendril of its light fell on her face when she stepped out farther, Faythe closed her eyes at the comforting feeling. When she opened them again, she thought she could feel the ethereal presence that embraced her through those rays, bringing the Goddess of the Sun to mind. She had not visited Aurialis since her last rocky encounter with the Spirit of Life. Over three months later, that felt like a lifetime ago.

  Everything had changed. Within herself and in her turn of circumstances. While her soul remained bound to the Eternal Woods until she returned the temple ruin—a reckless bargain made in the heat of a desperate moment—her mortal existence had now befallen a different kind of life sentence. A permanent tether to the King of High Farrow.

  She had nothing left to barter with and had recently felt the crushing confinement and hideous notion of not belonging to herself anymore. What hurt the most, and what had kept Faythe in low spirits since the day she signed her life away to the demon in the castle, was the heavy weight of sadness at her human friends being ripped away from her. They were safe, which was all she could be grateful for in the darkness. But it didn’t ease the ache in her heart from their absence.

  To assert his control, or perhaps to torture her further, the king had ordered that she was not permitted to leave the castle grounds even with guards. The stone walls had slowly been closing in on her, close to shattering her spirit completely if she was stuck between them any longer.

  Faythe owed a lot of her re
maining sanity to Tauria. It was amusing to think how they’d met, with Faythe holding a dagger to her throat to get the king’s attention. They’d laughed over it later, after Faythe profusely apologized, guilty at knowing how kind and welcoming the ward really was. The shape of their ears was no more prominent than their different skin tones. None of it mattered to her, and she cherished the comfort and distraction from a certain blonde whose company she pined after.

  Just as her heart began to calm and the air filled her lungs anew, a knock sounded at Faythe’s bedroom door. She groaned out loud, in no mood to see anyone. Without giving her a chance to call out and dismiss the intruder, they opened the door with a creak, and she knew exactly who to expect from the lack of formality.

  A familiar wave of sleek black hair came into view. Nik’s emerald eyes glittered hues of a brighter green as he stepped outside to join her. He slid his hands casually into his pockets, eyes closing on a deep inhale while he basked in the sunlight. Tendrils of light kissed his fair skin while dark lashes cast soft shadows over his cheeks. Faythe looked away from him to lean over the stone railing, unable to silence her tormenting thoughts of how effortlessly beautiful he appeared.

  “I thought my father was about to combust at hearing you call him a fool,” he said by way of greeting.

  Faythe laughed through her nose. “I didn’t call him anything. He wishes to know what his company thinks. If His Majesty is so sensitive to getting his feelings hurt, he should be more specific about what he wants me to filter out.”

  “While that may be true, you should be careful. He might find your usefulness doesn’t outweigh your brazenness.”

  She waved a hand, nonchalant. “He delights in knowing exactly what the people around him think, good or bad,” she said confidently. “Besides, what’s trading one life sentence for another if he does find me redundant?”

  The prince frowned deeply. “Don’t think like that.”

  “How am I supposed to think, Nik? I live by his command, and I’ll die by it too.”

  “You’re not a prisoner.”

  “Because I don’t wear chains of iron? The bonds are still there—don’t tell me you’ve convinced yourself otherwise.”

  His face fell, and she turned back to the city. Her nerves for the week ahead, the looming confrontation with the Courts of Ungardia, rattled in her mind, and she feared she would take it out on Nik if he stayed.

  “You should go,” she said quietly.

  “Actually, I came to tell you to dress nicely tonight. I’ll be back to get you at nine,” Nik said, turning on his heel to return to the bedroom.

  Faythe followed. “Why? What am I needed for now?” she grumbled, crossing her arms.

  He paused at the door and turned to her with a bright smile. “You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?” At her pointed look of question, his grin widened. “Happy Birthday, Faythe.”

  Chapter 2

  Faythe

  Faythe nervously ran her hands down her white-and-gold gown, feeling a little overdressed. She wasn’t permitted outside the castle gates, so whatever Nik had planned for them must be within the confines of her stone cage.

  While she was used to being dressed in pretty ornate gowns to blend in with the ladies of the court, she felt particularly pretentious in the dress that looked fit for a princess. It flowed with her movements, its colors giving her the familiar comfort and illusion of her subconscious mind.

  Faythe found herself sitting in the white-and-gold mists of her mind often, reliving better times of freedom in the outer town with the two people dearest to her. It relieved her pain as much as it caused it. Reflecting on joyous memories was also a solemn reminder that she was banned from making any new ones with Jakon and Marlowe indefinitely. The torture of seeing them without physical touch was only made bearable by the knowledge it was a way of keeping them close while they were far. She realized this was the longest time in over a decade she and Jakon had been apart. Faythe felt as if she were missing a piece of herself in his absence.

  Elise and Ingrid fussed over her hair, styling half of it back in a variety of braids as usual. Pretty as it was, Faythe always looked forward to relieving her head of the tight pressure and letting her fair brown waves loose by day’s end. It wasn’t customary for ladies of the court to have unbound hair, and she was already a far cry from their elegance and poise without defying that rule.

  Faythe stared into the vanity mirror, and it unnerved her that she wasn’t sure who was staring back. It was her face, but she didn’t think it belonged with the diminished spirit inside anymore. The longer she remained a puppet to the king, the more she began to slip from herself. Her thoughts and opinions were silenced in her position of bound obedience. Every time she wanted to scream, cry out, or disagree, it was as if her head were underwater. Not even Nik was able to save her from drowning this time.

  “Maybe it’s a romantic tour of the gardens,” Elise pondered with a giggle while securing a braid.

  “No way. It’s far too cold at this hour! And not to mention dark,” Ingrid countered, fiddling with the stubborn strands hanging loose around her face.

  Faythe rolled her eyes, though it was amusing to watch them excite over what Nik had planned. Their infectious enthusiasm lifted her somber mood.

  “I hate to disappoint, but I can assure you, romance will not be playing a part tonight,” Faythe cut in.

  She caught the playful discontent in their expressions in the mirror’s reflection. They knew of her history with Nik, had pressed and listened to every detail, and it felt wonderfully freeing to speak of it so openly without fear of the information ever leaving these walls. Faythe trusted them. Though, despite her persistence that whatever romantic feelings she and Nik had shared had been felt and left in the Eternal Woods, when the spymaster and the prince were simply Faythe and the fae guard, it didn’t stop their fairy-tale minds from indulging on the fantasy.

  When the door knocked at precisely nine o’clock, they knew exactly who was on the other side. Elise cast her a teasing look, and Ingrid released a subtle squeal and moved to answer it. Faythe couldn’t prevent the heat that flushed her cheeks at their reaction.

  Nik slipped into her rooms, and the two handmaidens bowed low to him before shuffling to leave. At seeing their fleeting giddy looks aimed at Nik’s back, Faythe had to refrain from scowling as they left.

  When the door clicked shut, she went to stand, but Nik had already taken the few strides over, putting a hand on her shoulder for her to remain seated. A delightful shiver trailed over where his fingers grazed the bare skin near her neck, lingering a little longer than necessary.

  “I see you got my gift,” he said, inspecting her gown in appreciation.

  She raised her eyebrows as she looked down to observe the shimmering fabric. The colors seemed more fitting now as he was the only one who knew what they symbolized.

  “Though, it’s missing one small detail.” His hands came around both of her shoulders with deliberate slowness, and she inhaled a breath. When something cool fell against her bare chest, she released that breath, glancing at the delicate eight-point gold star pendant now hanging there.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, stunned by Nik’s thoughtfulness. She met his eye in the mirror. “Thank you.”

  Faythe stood and turned to him. Nik’s eyes searched hers for a tender moment, and she thought she caught the flinch of his arm, which he forced down as if refraining from touching her. While it triggered a faint pinch in her chest, she knew it was better, safer, for both of them this way.

  “You make it impossible not to love you,” he said quietly.

  Though it wasn’t a comment made about a romantic feeling, it warmed her all the same. “I’m not sure everyone shares your view.”

  “Those who matter do.”

  His attempt to lift her fading spirit worked, and she couldn’t hold back the desire to embrace him for it. It was exactly what she needed to hear after her long months of self-doubt, an
d he didn’t even know it.

  Nik held her tightly with his strong arms around the shoulders, savoring the comfort as he pressed his cheek to the top of her head. When she pulled back, their faces came so dangerously close past feelings flooded to the surface, making her breath hitch. But Nik quickly cleared his throat and stepped out of the embrace completely before either of them could give in to reckless impulses. He smiled brightly, and it dissolved any sad feelings at the lost opportunity for a kiss.

  “We should go. The other half of your gift awaits.”

  Faythe furrowed her brow. “This is more than enough. What else have you done?”

  He ignored her, grabbing her hand to lead her out of the room with a childish excitement she had never seen before. It almost seemed ridiculous to have the Prince of High Farrow escorting and fussing over her.

  Everything was so easy with Nik that she often forgot his high power and status. Forgot he was fae, centuries-old, and heir to a mighty kingdom. None of it seemed relevant with the strength of their friendship. Even though he had lied about his true identity in the beginning, meeting with her outside the city walls under the false pretense of being a mere guard, in hindsight, Faythe was glad he did. It gave her the privilege of knowing him without the stigma of the title and crown he bore.

  Nik dropped her hand when they emerged into the bright open hallway, falling into a casual stroll beside her and maintaining a respectful distance. In the public eye, they remained little more than strangers. His visits to her rooms were few and far between, but sometimes, he would risk visiting in place of sending Tauria to check on her well-being. It was not without careful approach, knowing the guard rotations, and with the help of Elise and Ingrid, so he wouldn’t be seen entering or leaving. For both their safety, it was best they didn’t draw suspicion to how well they knew each other and how close they really were.