A Queen Comes to Power: An Heir Comes to Rise Book 2 Page 31

  “How in the Spirit’s name did you come across this?” he asked, passing the sword back to her.

  Looking through the pommel, she said, “It’s a long story.” And once again, she rushed to finish the last sketch before the symbol disappeared from memory.

  The doors groaned inward a fraction after a short pause, and she looked to Reylan expectantly. When he didn’t immediately move, she jerked her head toward the stone doors.

  “You can’t very well expect me to push them open while you stand pretty.”

  While he was here, she may as well make use of his strength.

  Reylan gave her a faint scowl, and she couldn’t hide her light amusement this time. He wordlessly stepped forward, pushing the doors in with little strain. She didn’t pay him any attention as she passed to go inside, but now she was here, she was starting to lose her nerve.

  “Dare I ask, what is this place, and why are we here?” Reylan commented, scanning the open temple with an edge of caution.

  She too looked around, growing bored of the recurring sight. “It’s the Light Temple,” she answered simply as if it were a mere market stall. “I happen to have dealings with the great Spirit of Life.”

  The general looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. She smirked at his response. It was exactly what she expected, and she didn’t blame him for thinking it insane. Little did he know, she had barely scraped the surface of the impossible yet.

  Faythe stepped into the dreaded pool of light and held the pommel of her sword firm between both hands until the beam shot through the Riscillius.

  “What are you doing?” Reylan stepped closer. Before he could decide whether to enter the sunlit circle, she gave a crooked smile.

  “See you on the other side.”

  The light met its mirrored stone target, and the glare of its encasing cast out the image of the general’s wide-eyed look. Faythe lowered her sword and used it to prop herself up casually as she waited for the Spirit to appear.

  But it was not Aurialis who materialized to greet her this time.

  Faythe straightened instantly, staring in shock at the glowing form that appeared in front of her. She trembled as instead of the white-haired beauty…

  Her mother stood before her with a warm smile.

  “Is it really you?” she asked in disbelief, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  Her mother’s ghost nodded, and a small sound left Faythe’s lips. “My dear girl,” she said sadly. “We don’t have long.”

  Faythe had so many questions, so many things she wanted to tell her, and so many words that had been left unspoken since the day her mother was cruelly taken. All of it circled in her mind at once, and she almost swayed with the surge of thought.

  “I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become,” her mother continued.

  A silent tear rolled down Faythe’s cheek. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted, overwhelmed with emotion and wishing so desperately to release all the worries she would have brought to her mother over the years if she were still alive.

  Her mother stepped forward, and it took everything in Faythe not to fall into the arms of her ghost. “You’re exactly where you need to be,” she reassured her softly.

  Faythe whimpered. “I miss you so much… I’m so sorry—”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was wrong. I should never have kept you from your destiny. The world needs you, Faythe, but you are not alone. Never alone.”

  Faythe shook her head. “I can’t save anyone.”

  “I’m sorry this fate falls on you. I tried to prevent it, but I fear I only hurt you more. I denied you the chance to know the other half of your lineage. I will never forgive myself for the relationship you lost. Both of you.”

  Faythe’s stomach dropped at the mention. “My father?” she breathed, unable to brace herself for the knowledge she was about to receive.

  Her mother’s face fell. “He is good and honorable, and we loved each other fiercely. It was my own selfishness and misjudgment that tore us apart and ultimately ruined the bond you could have had. My only wish here in the Afterlife is to see you have a chance to rebuild it now.”

  Faythe’s breaths came harder at the new information. He was alive, that much was confirmed, and it calmed a raging, gut-wrenching thought that perhaps he was the opposite of how her mother described him.

  “Where is he?” she dared to ask.

  The ghost smiled. “You may have been born in High Farrow, but you will always fly with the Phoenix.”

  Faythe frowned deeply, about to question the riddle. She didn’t get the chance though as her mother continued.

  “I wish we had more time, Faythe. You came here because you have doubts about the Spirit of Life, as did I. I’m here to tell you she is on our side. Trust her guidance as much as you trust those closest to you. Find the temple ruin.”

  Her mother’s form started to dissipate into the light behind. Faythe’s panic surged.

  “Wait! That’s not enough time!” she pleaded, desperate for even a few seconds longer with her.

  “I am always with you. Do not be afraid.”

  “I am afraid,” she choked out through the painful tightness in her throat.

  Her mother smiled sadly. “You are brave, Faythe.”

  With those last echoing words, her image faded.

  And faded.

  And was gone.

  A tear slid down Faythe’s cheek without a blink. She kept her eyes fixed on where her mother stood, her mind clinging to the vision even once she was gone completely. Faythe imagined her soft features, her brown, wavy hair, her slim figure. Even when the circle of light fell and her eyes burned in the contrasting dark, Faythe didn’t blink.

  Gold eyes turned to the deepest blue. Reylan stared back with shock and concern outside of Aurialis’s symbol. But Faythe wasn’t present, didn’t even register the general taking wordless, tentative steps toward her. She was her nine-year-old self again. Around her was not the gray stone walls of the temple; Faythe was in a forest so dark and frightening. Silence filled her mind. Silence in anticipation of her mother’s scream. She had been taken from Faythe then just as she was now.

  Before that chilling sound she would never forget could pierce through her mind…

  Calloused palms took her face, and Faythe snapped her head up.

  “What happened, Faythe?” Reylan’s voice came into focus, his expression alarmed by whatever he read scanning every inch of her face.

  Faythe stumbled back a step, and his hands fell. She held in her whimper at being brought back to her real surroundings. Her hand subconsciously rubbed her chest at the tightening pain that constricted her, as though the seams of an old, deep wound were straining to burst with a new wave of world-shattering grief.

  It made it real. Seeing her mother. She was in the Afterlife. It was both the liberating closure she so desperately needed and an agonizing realization. There had been a hideous, hopeful part of Faythe that believed in a chance her mother was alive, having never seen her death—never in the final sense of the word.

  While trying to gather the words to respond to Reylan, she turned around, and upon spying the podium behind him, she slowly walked toward it. Trembling fingers came up to graze the hollow shape of the ruin she was tasked with finding. Reylan followed but said nothing as he observed her.

  She took a deep breath. In through her nose, and out through her mouth. She repeated the motion until she felt collected enough to explain what she could to the general who waited patiently.

  “She’s gone.” Faythe’s brow pinched together. “She’s really gone.”

  Somehow, Reylan knew exactly who she meant. “You saw your mother,” he said, so tenderly soft.

  All she could muster was a tight nod, unable to look at him while she fixed her eyes on the sad, dark stone, focusing on its gritty texture under her fingers to distract from the tears she fought against. Reylan moved around the podium, and Faythe wiped her wet cheeks. He sto
pped behind her, and she felt his hand gently come to rest on her shoulder. She felt the touch beneath her skin like a pulse of strength and comfort. He said nothing. He didn’t need to. She appreciated his silent consolation—savored it. And with a new breath, she straightened, determination returning to her for what she needed to do.

  Reylan’s hand left her as she turned to him. “You should walk away now, save yourself from becoming tangled in a web of answerless questions, impossible notions, and dangerous propositions,” she warned. Yet she knew. Even before his mouth curled with faint humor, she knew his answer.

  “I’ve faced worse monsters, Faythe,” he said with an unexpected but soothing warmth. “Let me help with yours.”

  Chapter 37

  Faythe

  The three friends stood armed to the teeth within the hidden alcove in the library. Though two of them had the added advantage of immortal senses, Faythe tried not to see herself as the weaker in comparison.

  They waited patiently as there was only one last-minute addition to the ensemble to arrive. Reylan had been adamant to know everything, and whether she trusted him or not, she could only see the advantage of informing him about everything she knew of the Spirits and ruins thus far in case he could add any insight. He couldn’t, and she had confused him more than educated him on the matter. Still, he listened, focused and attentive, and not once did he condescend or doubt any of her claims. It was refreshing to speak so freely without judgment or question, and she actually treasured the few tender hours they spent on the front steps of the temple, forgetful of time, fear, and worry. There was only one fact that remained confined in her mind as even she was still uncertain of what it meant: that she was an Heir of Marvellas.

  Reylan’s silver-white hair was like a beacon as she spotted him approaching down the dark hall. There was no dissuading him from accompanying them to the forgotten cave below the castle when she told him where they planned to go looking for the temple ruin. Especially once she mentioned it was once home to a mutated, ghastly creature they’d narrowly escaped. She trembled where she stood to think they could face another like it tonight. But they were ready this time, with both wits and steel.

  He came to a stop before them, acknowledging Nik and Tauria but letting his gaze linger on Faythe, offering the most subtle reassurance in the faint dip of his head. He read her emotions so easily it was unnerving, yet she thought she had done a commendable job of maintaining a hardened exterior to mask her great fear.

  “All right, demon slayers united. Let’s go,” Nik said, stealing her attention. When she twisted to him, he was already pulling back the tapestry to reveal the hidden door.

  Tauria was close behind as they walked the passageway, and behind Faythe, Reylan became an obvious presence she tried to push to the back of her mind—unsuccessfully.

  They came to the Magestone-lined cell. Nik and Tauria hastily walked straight past, but she noted Reylan wasn’t so close behind anymore and paused to turn to him. He stared with a furrowed brow into the cells. Faythe didn’t say anything and didn’t know why she felt the need to hang back for him when her friends had pressed forward.

  “This is worse than I thought,” he mumbled quietly.

  She wasn’t sure if he expected a response, but she felt riddled with dread at Reylan’s deep concern. “I don’t think it’s been used in a long time,” she commented anyway.

  The general stepped inside one of the cells, and Faythe sucked in a sharp breath, lunging forward a step. He hissed in pain, face contorting as he fought against some phantom effects of the stone she couldn’t comprehend. He raised a hand to his head but made no move to step back out. Without another thought, she grabbed his arm and pulled with all her might to drag the brute of a warrior the few steps back out of the cell.

  Reylan released a quick gasp of air, blinking as if he couldn’t believe a full-grown fae could be rendered almost immobile in a room lined with the mineral. He turned to her with raised eyebrows.

  “An amount like that…it’s not only to take away our ability and strength. It’s a means of torture,” he said with no small amount of disbelief.

  She didn’t care what his reasons were for testing it as she hissed, “Don’t do that again.”

  An amused smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Were you worried about me, Faythe?”

  She scowled in response, spinning on her heel to go catch up with the others. “Should have left you in there,” she mumbled under her breath, though he heard her clearly, and his quiet chuckle echoed behind her. She resisted the urge to take her dagger to his chest and cut off the sound.

  They walked out into the large, open, cavernous dwelling, and Faythe shuddered with the haunting memory of their last visit, straining her ears to hear the echoing boom of the creature’s wings as it rose from the pit below. Her companions were alerted to nothing, but she couldn’t relax. Feeling her neck faintly throb around the two small puncture wounds, she lifted a hand to rub the tender spot.

  Though there was no immediate danger, Faythe’s breathing hitched in her throat, and her vision swayed a little. She stopped in her tracks, bracing a hand against a stone pillar, unable to take her eyes off the black, depthless void below. Her breathing quickened with the flashes of grim memory, still so fresh. She pinched her eyes closed, focusing on convincing her mind she was safe from another attack by the foul creature Nik had slain.

  A hand fell on her back, and she jolted violently, pulling her dagger free and spinning around. That same touch curled around her wrist to prevent her blade from plunging upward through Reylan’s neck. A strong arm hooked around her waist, drawing her flush against a warm force and saving her from another plummet into the lair below. She breathed hard, staring up into familiar sapphires in wide-eyed horror over what she’d mistakenly attempted in her flashback of terror. Reylan only looked back at her with deep concern.

  “Sorry,” she muttered through a short breath.

  He released her wrist slowly. “Are you okay?” His voice was gentle, worried.

  All she could muster was a vacant nod while he tried to soothe her panic.

  “Nothing will get the chance to hurt you down here.”

  Holding his stare, she nodded again, appreciating the promise in his statement. She pressed her body to his, the pressure and warmth folding a sense of security around her, enough that she could reel in her racing thoughts. Reylan backed up a long stride from the ledge, taking her with him. Then his arm fell, and he put a step of distance between them.

  Faythe relaxed, rolling her shoulders back, and breathed consciously. She would have thanked him. Admittedly, she found great comfort and protection with Reylan guarding her back, but her thundering heart still choked her words.

  When she turned, Nik and Tauria stood a few meters away at the first gap in the stone, silently observing her embarrassing encounter with Reylan. Her cheeks flamed, and she stormed toward them, determined to forget her outburst of fear-triggered paranoia.

  “You went through a great trauma—it’s only natural to have that kind of response. We shouldn’t have come back here so soon,” Nik said gently.

  “I’m fine,” she snapped and immediately felt guilty for deflecting her irritation at appearing weak. “Sorry, I—”

  “This way,” Tauria called, not bothering to wait for them as she followed a silent beckoning none of them could hear.

  Nik and Faythe exchanged a small smile of understanding before they all rushed to chase after the ward who disappeared around another bend. After a few twists and turns, Faythe’s fae companions contorted their faces in disgust, covering half their faces. Then the smell hit her human senses a delayed half-minute later. She flinched and almost gagged at the nauseatingly foul and familiar stench. It was even more pungent than the last time she was here.

  The black heap came into view around the next bend, and they all stopped to behold the mass of wings and gore.

  “That’s what bit you?” Reylan said.

  She was
about to ask how he knew about the bite, but then she remembered the first night he returned. He’d seen the faint scars on her neck when he got close enough in his act of intimidation. She shuddered as if she felt his fingers tracing along the permanent marking.

  Reylan moved past her, covering his nose as he went to kneel in front of the thing. He examined it for a quick minute before straightening and saying nothing. His brow furrowed in deep concentration before he turned his head to her, and she almost recoiled at the anger in his look—though it wasn’t aimed at her. His eyes were fixed on her neck.

  Faythe shifted on her feet, ridiculously nervous under his gaze. Then Reylan wordlessly stepped away from the decomposing heap. She wanted to question what he made of the creature, but Tauria skipped past him, Nik hot on her heel.

  Faythe and Reylan exchanged a last grim look before chasing after the prince and the ward who were already around the next turn. The few minutes they walked in deafening silence felt far longer to Faythe who was still painfully on edge. Everyone had their swords drawn, and no one dared to speak in case it delayed their alert to any impending danger.

  Faythe was lost in a pool of her own thoughts and would have crashed right into Nik’s back when he halted were it not for the hand that hooked around her elbow. She only scowled at Reylan who smirked at her clumsiness. Her question of why they’d stopped was answered the moment she turned back and beheld the iridescent obsidian rock that lined the walls along the rest of the path ahead.

  “It’s down there. I can feel it,” Tauria said in frustration.

  The end of the passage held a door, yet none of her fae companions could make it across with the amount of Magestone along the walls. Faythe stepped forward, about to push past the prince without giving her nerves a chance to hold her back, when Reylan’s hand caught her arm once again.