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

  Aside from her handmaidens, the only person they had mutually confided in was Tauria. She found the prince’s artful ventures to the outer town all those months ago deeply amusing and admirable.

  Nik led the way down two spiral staircases onto the ground level, and Faythe had no clue where he intended to lead her. The passageway she had come to memorize only led to the servants’ quarters. He didn’t give anything away as he ignored her pestering observations and guesses. Patience was never one of Faythe’s strongest traits.

  “If we’re going to be cooking, I think we’re both a little overdressed,” she commented as they approached the kitchens.

  “Can you ever just be quiet and trust me?”

  She was about to retort when he gave a mischievous smile and took a sharp right, passing the culinary quarters and heading straight down another dimly lit hallway. He stopped abruptly.

  “Here we are,” he announced, halting outside a small wooden door. It was closed, and while she stared at it warily, his grin stretched wider. Then he gripped the handle and strolled inside.

  Faythe hesitated at his unusual eagerness then took a few tentative steps forward.

  The room was small and had no windows. It was warmly lit by a fireplace, and some tall candles created the centerpiece of a humble dining table. Faythe walked farther into the room, noting the three table settings laid out, and figured Tauria must be joining them.

  “You brought me all the way down here to have dinner?”

  Not that she was unappreciative of his efforts—the food looked positively divine and already had her mouth watering. In fact, she was glad for the modest setting in place of the grand spectacle of a hall. Perhaps Nik saw the benefit of a little privacy to be themselves without worry of interruption or listening ears.

  “Yes, but not with me,” he said, casting his eyes to land on something behind her.

  Faythe’s eyebrows knitted together, and she turned back to see what caught his attention. At the sight of who stood there, a shallow cry came from her lips. It took a few seconds for her overwhelming shock and joy to subside, but then she ran the few strides before hurling herself at Jakon.

  He caught her around the waist, and she burst into an ugly sob as the weight of missing him for over three months crushed her all at once. She couldn’t let him go, and he made no move to release her as she cried, not quite believing he was physically here and in her arms.

  “I’ve missed you like crazy,” Jakon mumbled quietly into her hair.

  She finally pulled back to look at him, touching his face. “You’re really here,” she breathed with immense elation.

  He nodded with a small smile and released her. Faythe wanted to protest, but then her eyes landed on another wonderfully familiar ocean-blue set to his right, and another whimper left her.

  “Nothing’s been the same without you,” Marlowe muttered sadly, embracing her tight.

  “I want to know everything,” Faythe croaked, wiping her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her gown.

  “You should be safe down here for a couple of hours. I’ll come back at midnight to get you both back to the town,” Nik said.

  Faythe spun around and found the prince standing directly behind her. “Thank you,” she said, though words couldn’t even come close to expressing how grateful she was. He’d risked everything to give her this night with her friends.

  He only smiled and gave a small nod in response. Jakon and Marlowe also uttered their gratitude, and the prince left without another word, closing the door behind him.

  The trio took their seats around the table, but no one moved for the food. Faythe sat at the head so she could be beside both of her friends and spent a long moment simply looking between them as if they might vanish before her eyes. It was Jakon who broke the silence.

  “Looks as if they’ve been treating you well at least,” he observed.

  Though he tried to hide it, Faythe knew him well enough to detect the hint of bitterness at her new status and way of life and how it was bestowed upon her. She didn’t let the hurt show. Jakon didn’t blame her for anything—she knew this—and she didn’t blame him for his hatred toward the fae king who controlled her life.

  “I would trade it all for a night back at the hut,” she admitted.

  Marlowe’s soft voice chimed in. “I’ve been staying there with Jakon since you left. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Faythe looked to the blacksmith, and the sorrow in her eyes told of something unspoken. Her stomach dropped at the sight.

  “Of course not. Though you might want to look into getting a proper bed.” She laughed weakly. Neither of them matched her humor, which only added to her sinking feeling. She dreaded to ask, “Did something happen?”

  Jakon shifted his eyes to meet Marlowe’s, leaving it open for her to choose whether she wanted to explain herself or hand the task to him. The blacksmith’s brow creased tightly as if holding back the pain.

  “My father…he passed away just a few weeks after everything happened.” A single teardrop ran down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. “I think it was the stress. He was complaining of chest pain for months.”

  “Oh, Marlowe.” Faythe took her hand. Her own eyes burned for her friend’s grief and also in anger that she had been confined to the castle walls, completely cut off and unaware of Dalton’s tragic passing.

  Marlowe mustered a small smile. “We were both going to stay at the cottage for more space, but I couldn’t bear going back there yet knowing my father never would.”

  Faythe’s already fractured heart shattered completely then. She squeezed her friend’s hand.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I should have been there.”

  Marlowe shook her head weakly. “It’s not your—”

  “It is my fault,” Faythe cut in before her friend could try to give reason for her absence when Marlowe needed their support the most.

  “It is my fault you were ever taken. It is my fault Dalton went through the terror of your capture. It is my fault both of you went through the horrific ordeal that landed me here, and you out there.”

  Neither of her friends protested or spoke out against her statements. Faythe took the silence that settled as their agreement. Jakon and Marlowe exchanged a look, something silent passing between them. Faythe had to drop her eyes to her plate, hating the sharp sting that almost made her wince from witnessing their unspoken language.

  Her mind raced, taunting her to conclude what it meant. It was as though they were reflecting on some past conversation—about her. Perhaps they had been waiting for her to own the blame they had already cast.

  Faythe’s body flushed with guilt and humiliation, but she steeled her face. She fought the urge to shorten their time together and allow them to return to their safe and carefree lives. To spare them from the mess and danger that hovered over her like an angry storm cloud and broke whenever those dearest to her got close.

  Marlowe’s distant voice cut through her dark, spiraling thoughts. “If this is the only night we get to be with you for a while, we should try to enjoy it.”

  Though even as she said it, Marlowe didn’t meet her eye.

  It felt like a carving in Faythe’s chest, as though her apology had been heard but not accepted. Not fully. But Faythe couldn’t blame Marlowe—not after everything. After all, any protest might make her friends’ opinion of her even lower. And with the grief of losing her father still fresh, it didn’t feel right to beg for Marlowe’s forgiveness in that moment. Perhaps it was better to set her insecurities aside and enjoy the moment. There would be plenty of time for self-pitying thoughts when she was alone in her rooms later.

  “Try to enjoy it?” Faythe fixed a smile and met her friends’ eyes. “I’m with my favorite people in the world, Marlowe. Enjoying your company is as natural as breathing air.”

  She was relieved when their features softened and the tension visibly cleared.

  Faythe didn’t particularly care that it was her b
irthday, but Nik had given her the most precious gift she could have asked for, even if she was only seeing her friends for a night. She made a promise to herself that she would figure out a plan to get the king to agree to relax the leash he held and give her some freedom within Farrowhold at least. She would do whatever it took and whatever he asked of her for the chance to be with her friends. Faythe owed them whatever fight she had left in herself. For everything they had done.

  Jakon leaned forward in his chair, rising to grab the jug and refill his cup. He clenched his teeth and tried to hide the hiss of pain, his hand rising to his abdomen as he moved. Faythe’s eyes fell to his stomach, and she frowned.

  “I thought you were fully healed.” She winced at the memory of Jakon’s stabbing at the hands of crooks she’d foolishly fought in the Cave. She had to swallow the hard lump of guilt.

  “I am. But a fatal wound healed by magick is likely to have flare-ups now and then.” He added a chuckle to wave off the pain.

  Faythe’s stomach sank further. “How long has it been hurting?” she pressed, not convinced it was some side effect when he had assured them it had fully healed months ago without any lingering tenderness.

  “Not long—”

  “It comes and goes,” Marlowe cut in, shooting Jakon a look of apology. “But it’s been getting worse lately.”

  Faythe could see the silent scolding in Jakon’s eyes as Marlowe confessed for him. Knowing her stupidly selfless and overprotective friend, Jakon would never have mentioned it at all if he hadn’t slipped up enough for Faythe to notice.

  “It’s honestly nothing of concern,” he dismissed.

  Faythe gave a pointed look to where he still held his hand over the scar beneath his clothes. She had to focus her mind not to flash back to the image of the dagger protruding there and his blood staining his pale skin.

  “It doesn’t seem like nothing,” she accused.

  He removed his hand from his stomach and waved it lazily at her, reaching for the jug once again and topping up his wine. “I’ll live,” he mused with a crooked smile.

  Faythe wasn’t so convinced. He was healed by the yucolites—by Aurialis’s light magick. Faythe’s side of the bargain remained unfulfilled, and perhaps this was the Spirit’s way of getting a message to her. A coil of dark, cold dread knotted in her stomach as a daunting thought crossed her mind: Was it possible for Aurialis to undo the magick of her yucolites? Faythe had been content to ignore her unfulfilled end of the bargain for as long as possible, but if there was a chance the Spirit held the ability to take back her magick…

  She swallowed hard and mustered a smile in response to Marlowe as she tried to divert the conversation to something more lighthearted, noting Jakon’s discomfort at the topic of his pain. But the air remained tainted, and she wondered if they felt it too. The faint essence that left a friction, a divide, between her and her two friends, which she couldn’t shake.

  For the next few hours, they caught up on both the pretentious and painstakingly dull affairs of court life and the same dreary routine of the outer town. Apart from the devastation of Marlowe losing her father, everything was reported to be as bland and somber as she remembered. The young blacksmith had taken over the business full-time and was making it thrive, while Jakon kept his job on the farm, both of them welcoming the distraction from the hollow void that was left behind by Faythe and Dalton’s absence. The only time Faythe could muster any positivity in her voice was in speaking of Nik and Tauria. She told her human friends all about her fae companions on the prestigious side of the wall. Part of her wished they were here so she could see all her friends together and damn the social divide. It didn’t matter to Faythe, and she was confident they too would forget the physical differences and status that set them apart to find friendship if given the opportunity.

  She wanted to stay in that small room and talk the whole night away. Then, all too soon, the dainty wooden door creaked open and Nik entered with a sad look on his face, regretful he was the signal for them to be taken away from her once again. Her heart dropped, and she embraced both her friends tightly, promising she would see them soon.

  Perhaps it was selfish of her to need them, their friendship and comfort, after all she had done, but until they gave the word they were wisely seeking distance from her…Faythe would harbor that kernel of hope. Hope that one day, she could offer them something in return other than danger and misery.

  Seeing Jakon and Marlowe sparked the slowly dying embers within Faythe, and she felt the fire rise, pulsing through her veins once more. In that moment, she struck a private oath: that she would not lose herself or allow herself to be tamed, silenced, or controlled within the evil grasp of the king’s desires. For her friends, she had to keep fighting.

  Chapter 3

  Nikalias

  Under the cover of darkness, Nik cautiously a took a route he was all too skilled at maneuvering through undetected. He didn’t forget about the two humans he had the job of leading to safety, and luckily, their dull senses and comparative lack of stealth didn’t prove to be a problem in getting to the hidden drain tunnel.

  Down the dark alley, he spied a figure leaning casually against the wall. Jakon and Marlowe seemed to slow at his back, but Nik detected the stranger as a friend, not foe.

  Caius peeled himself from the stone with a beaming smile when they approached. Nik had asked the young guard for his assistance specifically, observing how welcoming he’d been with Faythe. That, and Caius was one of the very few in the know about his inconspicuous endeavors into the town through the dark labyrinth below. His loyalty was unquestionable.

  “Your Highness.” He bowed slightly.

  Nik cringed at the formality, strangely more so in the presence of Faythe’s friends. He didn’t think they fully forgave him for his months of deceit to her, hiding his true identity while he helped to train her mind abilities.

  “Thank you for this, Caius. It won’t be forgotten,” he said gratefully with a hand on his shoulder.

  The young guard gave a humble nod in response, bending down to haul open the wrought iron seal on the drain hole.

  Nik turned to the humans, feeling a little awkward that he didn’t know how to bid them farewell. It was ridiculous—he was a crown prince, heir to a great throne, yet he was shy in the presence of two ordinary mortals. He cleared his throat and straightened.

  “Caius will lead you out through the underground tunnels. You’ll be safe with him.”

  The blacksmith stepped forward to go first but stopped in front of Nik before she descended the ladder. “Thank you,” she said, soft and heavy with bittersweet gratitude.

  Nik wished he could have given them more time.

  He didn’t respond. He couldn’t make empty promises that they might get to see Faythe more often, as it wasn’t entirely in his power to grant her such movement. He gave a small, tight smile, but his fists curled at his sides at feeling so useless against his father who had deprived Faythe of her most basic right: freedom.

  Marlowe crouched then disappeared down the dark hole. Looking to Jakon, Nik almost recoiled to find him already staring with a contemplative frown.

  “I didn’t want to like you, and I’m still not sure I trust you,” Jakon said, using his whole body subconsciously to try to level with him in dominance. Nik had to admire the human for his bravery, if anything, even though his fae instincts flared at the hint of challenge. “But Faythe trusts you, and that’s good enough for me. She’s strong, but not unbreakable. Keep looking out for her in there, will you?” His tone was almost pleading, a small wavering of his bravado Nik understood.

  Jakon didn’t have to ask. Nik was certain there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t risk to ensure Faythe’s safety against his father’s cruelty. He appreciated that although the human expressed his reserves about the prince, he did trust him to protect the single thing dearest to him alongside Marlowe. Not only Faythe’s life, but her internal well-being while she remained distanced from their comfo
rt and friendship.

  “Always,” Nik promised.

  The next morning, Nik’s father summoned him early, much to his irritation after having little rest.

  Once he’d delivered Faythe’s friends into the capable hands of Caius, Nik had ended up outside Faythe’s door, not entirely of his own conscious decision. As much as he tried to stay away from her, maintaining distance for both their safety, he couldn’t stop himself from checking she wasn’t breaking down at having to be separated from her friends again.

  He was surprised to find she was in the complete opposite mood when she invited him in, and they talked into the small hours of the night about her plans to be granted access to the outer town. While her confidence and bravery was something Nik had greatly appreciated about Faythe from the beginning, he was wary it would be the thing to land her life in peril if she tested it too far against his father. But there was no dissuading her from her course of action, and Nik could only pray the king would see reason.

  Nik acknowledged the guards with a nod of respect as he slipped into the council chamber.

  During Faythe’s first week in the castle, Nik had gone discreetly to each of the guards in an attempt to put their minds at ease about the unknown human telepath in their court. He hoped to convince them she wasn’t a threat and help make her feel at least slightly welcome in a castle full of strangers who weren’t even her own species. It seemed to have worked for some of them; he saw them engaged in occasional friendly conversation with the king’s spymaster.