A Queen Comes to Power: An Heir Comes to Rise Book 2 Page 41

  He always played out the same nightmare after reeling through the memories in her white-and-gold mist. Every time she saw her friends killed by his hand, it ripped open her heart, and she struggled more and more to bring herself back to reality the following day.

  Faythe stood watching the small white bird. It offered no entertainment and very little movement at all, but she focused on it, afraid to blink in case it disappeared again. But even as her eyes strained and stung, she couldn’t be certain it was real. She couldn’t be certain what was real anymore.

  The cellblock door opened, and she knew it wouldn’t be Caius. There had been too many days since her last playdate with the captain, and she stood, anticipating it had come around again. She stopped feeling the initial fear. She stopped feeling anything at all. Faythe didn’t turn around as she heard the door to her cell swing open and two guards come up behind her. One roughly unchained her, and she kept her eyes on the bird for as long as she could, holding onto the small, blissful distraction.

  Until she was dragged out like routine.

  Then she stopped taking in her surroundings and instead focused on her conscious breathing so as not to give in to the panic that rose with each step closer to the room of torture. Still, her trembling was the physical betrayal of her nerves at knowing she was soon to relive the same vivid vision of her friends’ brutal deaths. In her mind, it wasn’t an illusion. In her mind, every soul-obliterating replay was real.

  The captain was sitting in his usual chair when they brought her in and strapped her down. His predatory grin never failed to douse her with a wave of cold terror. Her head was pulled back, and the single drop of ability-stifling serum met her tongue, filling her with the same dread she would never get used to.

  Before she could drift off completely, the captain leaned forward in his chair. “We get to forgo the boring run-through of your memories and skip straight to the fun this time.”

  Faythe dared to turn and meet his eye. He nodded, smile widening, as if he knew the silent question her horror-filled eyes held.

  “Yes, Faythe. We have your human friends. I’m sure the king is dealing with them through his own measures as we speak.”

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even fight against her restraints as the serum started forcing her into a deep, dark sleep. Varis lay back in his seat with a sinister chuckle, reaching for a different sleep tonic to meet her in the nightmare.

  “Tonight is just for fun.”

  Her lips parted to respond, but the waves of sleep weighed down her words. Then the darkness pulled her under all at once.

  Tauria was the first face she met, watching on in amusement as Faythe sobbed on her knees in front of the king she stood next to like a trophy. The wickedness and malice looked so out of place on her delicate features and perfect golden-brown skin. She wondered how she could have been tricked so badly not to see this side of Tauria under the angelic mask. Faythe didn’t want to believe the fae she’d grown so close to over the past months was an accomplice to the murderous king standing before her.

  Marlowe sobbed at her side, and Faythe looked to her broken friend. “This is all your fault!” the blacksmith cried.

  Faythe’s heart tore from her chest. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Her tears blurred her vision and streamed down her face.

  They were all about to be executed, and it may as well be Faythe who brought the sword down on their necks.

  “Faythe.”

  She looked up at the voice and found the prince looking down at her from just below the dais. Unlike his father and the ward, he didn’t hold the same taunting, cruel expression. He didn’t hold any emotion at all as he stood still and straight. Something about him was…odd.

  Then she heard the captain’s footsteps storming closer, a familiar sound that haunted her waking thoughts. She knew he would be headed with his blade poised to end the lives of her friends. Faythe began to sob in a frantic panic.

  “It’s not real, Faythe. Look at me.”

  The prince’s voice sounded above everything else in the scene around her, and she realized what was different about it. He wasn’t talking out loud—not like Marlowe had. No. His voice was closer. Too close considering his position a few meters away.

  She tore her eyes from Jakon’s executioner and met the emerald orbs once again. Then she felt it—felt him. In her mind.

  “You have to fight it—the serum. It’s just a trick. This is your mind, Faythe. Take back control.”

  She replayed the words over and over in her head.

  It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

  Take back control.

  Realization dawned, and she became aware of her surroundings, the illusion of the captain’s making. Yet even as she made the distinction between reality and trickery, she found herself unable to move or change anything about the captain’s cruel nightmare.

  “You can fight it. You need to. It won’t be long until he senses me here.”

  Faythe found it a miracle he was able to be here at all, never mind remain undetected by the other force in her mind. He could even talk to her—and only her—without Varis’s knowledge, it seemed, as the captain still approached Jakon and lifted his sword. She knew the prince was powerful in his ability, but this…

  It should have been impossible.

  A dull headache formed, warning Faythe she wouldn’t be able to stand the force of two entities in her mind for long. Especially if the captain became aware of the prince and they fought to be the one who remained.

  Varis prepared to drop the weight of his blade down on Jakon’s neck, and Faythe knew exactly what came next. She’d never been able to look away, and now she knew why.

  She couldn’t watch her friend die.

  She wouldn’t.

  Her head pounded harder, but she fought with everything she had to take back control. The sword began to fall, and just before it met Jakon’s neck…

  Faythe twisted her head.

  She didn’t hear the thump of Jakon’s beheading this time. The captain had paused. Daring a look back around, she found Varis’s face was livid. Faythe rivaled him on that emotion as it all came rushing back to her. It was still a struggle as she fought against the serum’s hold. But with great resistance, she straightened her back and slowly pulled one leg from beneath her, then the other, before rising to her feet against the weight that wanted to hold her down. She didn’t take her deadly glare off the captain once.

  “Impossible,” he spat, and she felt him attempt to pull himself out of her mind in case she regained full control.

  Something else held him there, preventing him from retreating. Not her mind, but Nik’s. She felt him draw near, and when she turned, he was within arm’s reach, holding a hand out to her.

  “Together,” he said.

  She didn’t question it or hesitate to slip her palm into his.

  Then she felt it.

  His power exploded through her, and she gasped as it merged with hers. No longer was he just another invading force; he was part of her mind, two conscious entities becoming one. The serum didn’t hold her back anymore, and she breathed deeply with the wave of release.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, still not believing he was truly here and helping her.

  He smiled back and gave her a small nod. Then they both fixed their attention on the captain who wore his growing rage clear on his face.

  “I can still kill you both.” He seethed.

  His force remained strong and dominant. With her ability still partially stifled by the serum, Faythe only had Nik’s borrowed power. It was enough, and it pulsed through her like an electric current. They didn’t have long. It would burn Nik out as much as it would kill her if they didn’t take down the captain soon.

  Varis changed the scene around them. Every other person dissipated into total blackness, dark, angry clouds closed in overhead, and thunder cracked loudly above them. He still had his sword poised in his hand, and she was about to conjure
a mirror of Lumarias when Nik stepped past her, carrying his own blade to face off with the captain.

  He was stronger than she right now, so she let him go—the darkness facing off with the light in a dance of storms.

  Just before Nik moved to attack, she sent one last thought to him through their internal link. “The killing strike is mine.”

  She felt his agreement through that connection. Then steel met steel in the confines of her mind.

  Thunder cracked louder, and lightning illuminated the duo with every high-pitched symphony of connecting blades. Clouds weaved angrily around them, and she felt every ounce of hatred and malice from the two of them. Her head pounded sickeningly with the battle that raged on in her head. She held on desperately, trying not to fall into the void of nothingness that threatened to pull her under. She knew if she did, it would not be blissful sleep that greeted her on the other side.

  She couldn’t stay on her feet any longer and dropped slowly to her knees while keeping her eyes fixed on the pair in front.

  Nik was valiant in his efforts. It was impressive to watch him fully engaged in battle as he homed in on the captain and unleashed his full fury. She could feel it, mixed in with her own hatred for the monster who tortured her. Nik must have heard her thoughts as he pushed harder against the captain who started to falter against the force of the prince.

  Faythe was becoming too dizzy to bear it anymore. She felt heavy…so heavy. It was too tempting to give in to the need to completely shut down.

  “Hold on, Faythe,” Nik said desperately.

  She gripped onto his words, his lifeline, held it with her entire being so she wouldn’t fall into the dark abyss that clawed at her. It took all her focus, and she couldn’t make out the blurred bodies in combat or tell who was winning anymore.

  Her palms met the cool ground beneath the mist, her head hanging limp.

  Then she felt a sharp sever in her mind, and in panic that it was Nik, she jerked awake, whipping her head up and frantically trying to refocus her vision.

  It was not the prince who had lost his control in her head. She breathed in elation to find the captain on his knees in front of Nik who poised his blade over his heart. A weight lifted, and she knew Varis was now completely at her mercy—at their mercy, as she still relied on Nik’s power to keep control of her own mind.

  She raised shakily to her feet again, wobbling on weak knees but feeling a new surge of strength thanks to the prince. She didn’t need a phantom sword; Varis’s mind was now hers to play with, and she felt its fragile essence. Felt the anger and despair, self-loathing along with hatred for the world. For a moment…she pitied him. He had no love for anything or anyone—perhaps he never did even before his mind was captured and his will twisted by Dakodas and Marvellas.

  A life without love was to live in darkness without a glimmer of light. An existence with nothing to lose.

  She shuffled over to them, and when she came to stand by Nik, the demon’s black eyes snapped to her in a feral rage. Yet he was powerless now, and her fear of him reduced to nothing.

  “Get it over with,” Varis spat out.

  She shook her head, deliberately slow. “You don’t deserve a choice.”

  Faythe reached out her hand, and Nik passed over the sword. Though she could hurt Varis without it, the blade held meaning.

  “Just like old times,” she said, holding the sharp point to his chest. Her voice dropped, eyes turning hard and cold. “You should never have challenged me in that cave.” She applied pressure and felt the tip of the sword pierce through as if it were real. She made it feel real—to him, and to herself.

  The captain cried out in pain.

  “You should never have gone after my friends.” Another inch sank into his chest. The feeling was both sickening and liberating as Faythe finally stood to slay the demon that plagued her. “You should never have tortured me.” She plunged the blade in farther, and he coughed blood through his choked scream of agony. “And Varis…you should never have underestimated me.”

  The sword passed clean through his chest and out of his back as she moved forward with the final motion. His blood pooled out over her hand and the hilt, but Faythe didn’t take her eyes off his depthless black holes as she took his life. She felt everything and made sure he did too, as if they were both fully conscious and awake, not just inside her mind.

  She wanted to remember what it felt like to finally rid herself of the evil that was Captain Varis. She wanted to remember the day she knowingly—deliberately—took another life of her own volition.

  With the captain still staring at her, eyes bulging and in immense agony, she wordlessly took the last step to shatter his mind from within her own. When she awoke, he would not.

  Faythe felt a new black taint on her soul for killing even someone as evil and malicious as the captain. His body broke off in fragments, floating through the air and turning to dust under her hands as well as the sword that protruded through him.

  Then he was gone completely. Turned to nothing.

  The black clouds faded, and the brightness welcomed them once again. Her white-and-gold mist returned to chase away the final whorls of darkness.

  “He had to be stopped.” Nik’s voice was behind her.

  She knew it was his attempt to console her for the murder she committed. It didn’t work, but she appreciated it all the same. Faythe turned to him, and he was close enough that she couldn’t stop herself when she fell into his arms. He held her tight, and she sobbed—out of relief, out of sadness, out of fear. It wasn’t over. The captain was simply one obstacle less on her way to kill the king.

  Nik held her as her body shook with the overwhelming emotions. She ceased her crying slowly before composing herself enough to step back from him. He wiped her wet cheek with a solemn smile, his fingers lingering a little longer.

  “I thought you were dead,” he said in barely more than a whisper while his eyes darkened at the thought.

  Her face paled, and she took the hand still at her face. “You saved me.”

  He smiled sadly, and then his face turned grim. “We don’t have much time. Varlas and his forces will already be here to join with my father. The war is coming.”

  Faythe took a deep breath, her senses alert to the news, and straightened with a new fierce determination. She had to get to the king before innocent blood was shed for an avoidable cause: a war of revenge and tyranny. She pulled on every last ounce of strength and courage. She was not alone, and Marvellas would not win—not while she still lived to stop her.

  She looked into Nik’s emerald eyes, just as fierce as hers, as she said, “Let’s end this.”

  Faythe’s eyes snapped open. The reek of the room hit her first, like blood and death. Twisting her head, she found the captain slumped in his usual seat beside her. Bile stung in her throat at the sight, at knowing he was no longer simply asleep; he was dead. The other guard in the room would be completely oblivious to that fact.

  She turned her head to him then and found the guard leaning lazily against the back wall, looking half-asleep. “Help,” she croaked, not expecting him to—but all she needed was for him to be close enough that she could take hold of his mind.

  The guard straightened immediately, frowning at her as he made the few steps over. “There is no help for you—”

  As soon as he was within reach, she seized his consciousness. He choked when she did, staring wide-eyed in horror. She commanded him to untie her bonds, and then, when her wrists were free, she sighed in relief, the raw, torn flesh no longer stinging against the tight material. She sat up and wasted no time in relieving her ankles while keeping hold of the guard.

  Faythe hopped off the bench and turned to meet his eye again. He was just as guilty as the captain and the king in some respects, and she hated that the thought of killing him too crossed her mind. She was not that person. She was not a cold-blooded executioner.

  Instead, she willed him into deep unconsciousness with a single thou
ght. Then she hastily made for the door. She swung it open, foolishly not anticipating the guard posted outside. He turned to her, and in the same breath was halfway to drawing his sword, until Faythe instinctively seized his mind, quickly sending him into a deep sleep too.

  She swayed on her feet with the mental exertion, catching herself in the doorframe, still recovering from the painful test of endurance with the captain and the prince. She used the wall to lean upright as she tried to regain her physical strength and burn off the remnants of the serum in her system. Faythe forced her feet to move as fast as they could, not knowing how long it would take for the guards to surface again.

  As soon as they did…it would be a race to the king.

  Faythe breathed slow and steady, finding the strength to stay on her feet finally without aid. She quickened her pace, slowly at first, until the rising panic that she could be too late had her running down the dark passageway and hurtling upstairs. Adrenaline alone dulled the throb of her head and the ache of her bones to keep her moving against physical protest.

  She emerged into brighter hallways and recognized the main routes lined with tapestries and ornaments. She knew the way to the prince’s rooms from here. Though it didn’t matter, as Nik came into view around the next corner, headed toward her. She whimpered in momentary elation at the sight, not slowing her run until they collided. He caught her, and she released a sob at the feel of him. The real him. They didn’t get a chance to bask in the reunion, however, as his grave look when they parted made her stomach drop.

  “It’s Jakon and Marlowe.”

  Their mention brought the world down on her. Along with his words that followed.

  “The king has them.”

  In a gripping flash of desperation, she damned her weak state, screwed the odds, and switched her intended destination. The King of High Farrow would get what he wanted. Along with Faythe’s undiluted wrath and fury.