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

  “Smile. Engage.”

  She wisely followed his instruction and forced herself to appear present while the prince sent her a private conversation. Her mind reeled over why he thought it necessary. She looked at him to send something back.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked in cold anticipation.

  “My father knows.”

  His words echoed, and she swayed with the weight of them. The dance helped to disguise her quickened breathing and uneven footing, but it also added to the beading on her forehead as she became clammy with sweat.

  Just like that, the hunter had become the hunted. Perhaps she was a fool to ever think she could get there first. But it was not too late.

  Nik’s arm tightened around her as if sensing her intentions. “He planned to bring in Marlowe and Jakon.” Her eyes widened in trepidation, but he quickly added, “Caius warned them in time. They should be long gone by now.”

  She thanked the very bones of the fae guard. She owed him more than he could possibly know as he had responded to their dire need far more times than she cared to admit.

  “What does he know?”

  “I can’t be certain. All I know is that he plans to have you detained and will use your friends to get the information he wants. It’s not hard to guess.”

  She couldn’t hear the music from the ringing in her ears and could barely feel the movement as she continued to dance and twirl with the prince. Her eyes knew exactly which direction to turn to meet those of the general who watched her from the side of the hall. She tried to keep her face neutral though it filled her with horrible anxiety to see him there—for him to be in High Farrow at all right now.

  “You have to warn Reylan,” she said quickly. If there was a chance the king also knew about his involvement, he wouldn’t hesitate to have the general killed.

  “Caius is taking care of it.”

  Sure enough, when she looked over again, she spied the young guard approaching Reylan to engage in seemingly boring conversation.

  “We need to get you out—tonight.”

  She tore her eyes from Reylan to meet those of the prince. “I can’t go. Not yet.” Not before she achieved what she set out to do. She wouldn’t run—not when she was close to releasing the evil grip on High Farrow.

  When she glanced back across the hall, Reylan was gone. She only hoped he had the good sense to flee back to Rhyenelle where he would be safe. He, Jakon, and Marlowe would be far out of the king’s reach. It was a huge relief. Now, she only had to pray to the Spirits there were enough fae remaining in the evil grip to spare the lives of the king’s son and ward should they be outed for their involvement too.

  “It’s over, Faythe. You’ll only be fighting a lost battle.”

  With the next turn in the dance, she and the prince switched sides. Her eyes met those of the king then, standing and staring right at her with a wicked smile. Nik was right. With him alert to her intentions, she wouldn’t be able to get within five feet before she would be stopped by the guards who stood poised around him. Orlon had her, and he knew it.

  Her blood boiled. She almost snapped and forwent the deadly consequences of reaching for her dagger, which had become a dead weight against her thigh, and taking it to the heart of the king against all odds. Feebleness gripped her instead.

  “What do I do?”

  Every ounce of confidence left Faythe. Strength bowed to panic, and she felt completely and utterly lost and helpless. She had failed.

  “You live to fight another day.”

  When she locked onto Nik’s emerald eyes, they were flooded with sadness under the smile he wore for the crowd around them—for the king who stalked their every move.

  “Caius has a horse and supplies ready for you to leave immediately.”

  “Where will I go?” she said desperately. She had nowhere to go, and her friends were already on the run with no indication of where they might be headed.

  “Far from here. To where you’ll be safe.”

  The song came to an end, and they stood facing each other as the couples around them bowed down. She forced herself to blend in with the revelers, though all she wanted in that moment was to fall into the arms of Nik. Would they even get a proper goodbye? She couldn’t leave him like this—not after everything they’d been through and all that they meant to each other. He smiled sadly as if he could read her thoughts. Then he came close, taking her hand and leaning in as if to thank her for the dance.

  “Be happy, Faythe. Take the back exit. Go slow, stop and engage, and don’t look back. Tauria is distracting my father as we speak.”

  Faythe dared one last glance toward the dais. True to Nik’s word, the king’s attention was now fixed on the ward who kept his back to her.

  “Caius will meet you by the stables. Go—now.”

  Time raced forward, and she begged for it to stop to allow her a few more minutes with the prince. But time was not her luxury tonight, and she met his look with distraught eyes.

  “Thank you,” she whispered before adding to his thoughts. “Goodbye, Nik.”

  She didn’t look at him again as she slipped away, leaving her heart in pieces where she last stood. Her only option was to concede. But the fight was far from over.

  She wove in and out of the crowd, being careful not to walk too fast and keeping her face plastered with a smile for those she passed despite their disgruntled reception. Two guards were at the back exit. Her heart was erratic as she approached them, body flushed and turned rigid. To her great relief, they paid her no attention, and she glided through without being stopped. Then she relaxed for all of a few seconds until she quickened her pace down the empty halls. No one usually ventured these passages, and with the Yulemas Ball in full swing, it was even more eerily deserted.

  Catching her skirts by the slit, Faythe swept them to the side as her walk verged on a slow jog. She pictured the back exit through the servants’ quarters she would take, and in her urgency, the distance seemed so much farther than she remembered. A cruel taunt in her mind that she would never reach it. Every step felt weighted with internal mockery that she was too slow to get there in time. Just a few hallways more… She twisted and turned down dark passageways, counting her breaths as a distraction from her fear the king would have noticed her absence and sent his vultures on her tail by now.

  She was so close to her destination, seconds from being outside the castle, but her breath of relief choked like ice shards when a voice from behind froze her still.

  “Where do you think you’re off to, spymaster?”

  Her spine straightened with a dark coil of dread, fingers curling to tame the trembling as she turned slowly.

  Captain Varis’s eyes danced with a wicked gleam.

  She didn’t even try to respond with an excuse as her words were gripped by terror. Two guards flanked him, and she could see in his face that this was not a chance encounter. Footsteps caught up behind her, and she turned her head just enough to see the further four guards approach and block her path to freedom. Too many of them. Her ability was completely useless, and she had no way out as they herded her like cattle.

  “How fitting a title. Only, you haven’t been entirely loyal in your work to the king now, have you?” he asked in taunting malice.

  Knowing what she knew now, Faythe wondered what kind of male the captain would have been before the evil grasped his heart. She struggled to believe such a sadistic, violent personality was completely the result of Dakodas’s spell. Heightened, perhaps, but she suspected the captain likely always had some evil in him to call upon.

  Faythe lifted her chin, determined to hold onto the dregs of courage she had left. “How fitting that the king should send his prized hound to do his dirty work,” she sneered.

  The captain chuckled darkly, the sound churning her stomach. “Oh, I volunteered.” He stepped closer, and she flinched a step back, her fear overcoming her bravery. “But don’t worry, Faythe. The king has many things planned for you.” He leaned i
n so close she had to force back her nausea. Then he pulled away with a wild grin. “Now, are you coming along like a good little girl, or—?” He paused in mock deliberation. “Actually, you don’t deserve a choice.” His hand lashed out and grabbed her arm, and she couldn’t bite back her cry of pain at his excessive pressure and sudden movement.

  Another guard stepped forward, adding just as much brutality as he took hold of her other arm. When Faythe snapped her head to him, her fight faltered at the face she saw. She recognized him and racked her brain frantically for why his features struck her with immediate fear.

  Then she remembered where she’d seen him before…

  In the human boy’s memory. The one she was made to kill.

  He was one of the guards who had terrorized High Farrow’s civilians for information—not about the castle’s defenses against Valgard, but to get them to find the Riscillius for King Orlon. Everything started falling into place, and she slowly began to crumble.

  All this time, the young boys, Reuben, the guards in the town—they had been purposely made to impersonate the enemy, to make the people believe it was Valgard to fear and not their own king. Then Orlon was killing them when they failed to accomplish what he asked to maintain the guise he was keeping them safe from traitors.

  It was heinously, treacherously brilliant.

  The captain and the guard dragged her with undue force. She couldn’t fight—not physically, and in her spirit…she felt that fight failing too.

  Chapter 48

  Nikalias

  The Yulemas Ball came to an end at last. Nik had barely registered any of it. At least, not since he watched Faythe disappear through the exit. His heart broke to think it might be last time he saw her.

  The prince stood from his throne beside his father. He had been quietly desperate to leave for the past hour, wanting to find Caius and make sure Faythe made it out of the city walls.

  “Stay, Nikalias,” his father drawled with chilling calm.

  Nik halted. The command rattled his nerves awfully. He slowly turned back to the demon wearing the king’s face who motioned for Nik to take a seat once more. Reluctantly, he did. He was still the king in masterful appearance, and to disobey him would be a grave mistake. Nik didn’t know how much of his real father still remained and didn’t want to test whether it was enough to spare the life of his son should he step out of line.

  He looked to Tauria who sat terrified under her faltering mask of impassiveness, feigning pleasantries as partygoers bid her good night.

  As the party ceased and more of the revelers casually left, completely oblivious to the thick, growing tension between the three royals overlooking them all, the hall grew quieter. Nik watched each and every fae leave the hall as if they were the seconds counting down to a deadly confrontation.

  Then silence fell.

  Nik heard the approach of the guards before he saw them close in, lazily surrounding the dais in the ballroom. He looked over the ensemble—and fell into ice-cold dread at the first thing he saw. Their uniforms were stripped of all hues of High Farrow blue. They stood in all-black instead, robbed of the Griffin crest. To his horror…he recognized none.

  The king stood and walked a few paces forward but didn’t turn back to them as he spoke. “I’m disappointed,” he began, and Nik held his breath in anticipation. “My own son, a traitor.” His father twisted his head to him then. Cold, expressionless. Nik didn’t yield a reaction either.

  “I don’t know what—”

  “Let’s not play games, Nikalias. I raised you better,” Orlon cut him off swiftly.

  Nik’s eyes flashed in rage at being spoken down to. “You didn’t raise me,” he snapped, rising to his feet. He stared into the black, foreign depths in challenge. “You are not my father—not anymore.”

  He had all but signed his death sentence anyway.

  The king looked bored as he dismissed Nik’s anger. “I expected more from you, Prince.” He switched his gaze to Tauria, and Nik held back the impulse to stand between them. “And you, Princess. I give you shelter, and this is how you thank me?” He shook his head with a mocking huff. “Such a waste of talent. Both of you.”

  Neither of them acknowledged their guilt as the king had yet to outright accuse them of anything. Nik couldn’t be sure of exactly what he knew or what he thought their involvement was. He stayed silent.

  The king went on. “It’s a shame we’ll lose an even greater talent thanks to all this treason.”

  Nik’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t be talking of Faythe. She was faraway by now, safe…

  “I rather enjoyed having a spymaster.”

  The room swayed, and Nik struggled to stay on his feet as he felt the ground pull out from under him. His voice dropped into a calm fury. “If you harm her—”

  The king waved a lazy hand that flared his temper recklessly. “I’m afraid your plea for the human’s life comes a little too late. I’m sure Captain Varis has long since disposed of that problem.”

  In a flash of reckless emotion, Nik drew his sword, moving fast, and was steps away from bringing it down on his father’s neck without pause for thought.

  The steel never struck its target. He heard the guards approach seconds before he spun, and his sword connected with another blade. Nik fought against two guards in black who were dangerously quick.

  “Nik,” Tauria’s small voice, along with a quiet whimper, snapped his attention away. He found her within the grasp of another fae, blade poised over her throat.

  He instantly stopped fighting, staring wide-eyed in terror. “Let her go,” he said, failing to sound stern in his desperation. His worst fear flashed before him—one that had tormented him for decades: seeing Tauria’s life hang in the balance…because of him. Nik almost fell to his knees as he breathed, “Please.”

  Nik’s sword was taken from him, and the guards closed in to detain him. His father raised a hand, and everyone halted. The king looked to Tauria with bitter distaste.

  “You let these females make you weak, son.”

  There was no way out—not with both their lives. He didn’t care about his own, but Tauria…

  The king released a long breath. “How disappointing.”

  He thought he had lost. Nik shifted his position and braced himself to fight without his blade—whatever it took. Then Orlon turned to address his guards.

  “Take them both away. Confine them to their rooms. No one is to enter without my knowledge, and they are not to leave without my word.”

  The guards nodded and moved around him. Another four circled Tauria, but there was no longer a blade threatening her life. A small relief. Orlon didn’t plan to kill them—at least, not yet.

  The king cast his black stare back to Nik as he spoke. “We don’t want to cause a scene now, do we?”

  Nik clenched his fists together in a trembling rage, his breathing hard as he stared off with the King of High Farrow. Then, reluctantly, he was forced to concede and willed his feet to move as he stormed out of the great hall. Six guards flanked him on all sides. To fight would be futile against so many, especially unarmed.

  At the corner where he would usually part ways with Tauria to go to their separate living quarters, he stopped. She did too, and their eyes briefly met in a silent promise: She was not going to die. Not while he still breathed.

  Nik was pushed forward, and he shot a lethal glare at the guard who dared touch him. When he turned back, Tauria was already walking away, her usual straight and confident poise reduced to a low bow of defeat.

  In the confines of his rooms, all comfort was removed as his safe space quickly became his prison, his cage. Alone, he was finally left to his own thoughts. And it was perhaps the most dangerous thing the king could have left him with. He’d killed Faythe and threatened Tauria. Now, all Nik had was time.

  Time to plan exactly how he would painfully—and slowly—release his retribution on his father.

  Chapter 49

  Faythe

>   Faythe huddled in the corner of her cold, damp cell, grateful for the many layers of her gown as she folded a few up over her arms for warmth. Three days had passed. She knew this from the small box window she spent her days watching from dusk till dawn. She didn’t know what the king was waiting for. Perhaps to see if the bitter, frozen nights would claim her life and save him the hassle.

  They had her chained to the back wall of the cell, exactly where she had been after her very first day in the castle. It was fitting to think she’d really come full circle.

  The only company she had was the guard who brought her a meal and water once a day. It was never a lone guard as two others were always on standby right outside should she try to use her ability. It had taken until now to realize they were drugging her food or water to send her straight into a pit of darkness and prevent her from Nightwalking. She didn’t mind, welcoming the numbness it brought through the freezing nights.

  She didn’t try to use her conscious abilities, but not because she thought it was a wasted effort. In their haste to lock her up, the fae hadn’t thought to check her for weapons.

  After all, what lady brings a knife to a ball?

  She had a chance—one chance—to still carry through on her plan to end the king. She simply needed the opportunity to get close enough.

  Faythe heard footsteps before the door to the cellblock groaned open. She didn’t bother to move at first. Then she spotted the disheveled, curly brown hair of Caius.

  Her chains clanked loudly as she moved, and her bones ached in protest from her stationary days against the hard stone. As usual, two guards were by the main door as Caius came in with a tray of food. She subtly moved forward as far as her chains would allow. The young fae unlocked the door to her cell and stepped inside.

  The moment their eyes locked, she heard, “Can you hear me?”