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

by C. C. Peñaranda

  Faythe offered a small smile to shadow her dark, growing remorse. “I’m sure you noticed the missing ruin from the podium in the temple. She wants me to get it back.”

  “Did she say where it is?” Tauria asked.

  Faythe glanced briefly at the emerald orbs of the prince to check if he showed any recognition of the item she mentioned, but he looked at her with the same curiosity as the rest of them. She fixed her eyes on the ward. “Within the castle.”

  Everyone’s eyes widened slightly, their shoulders slumping at the same time. Nik and Tauria looked to each other as if silently communicating their mutual fear and confusion that it was within the walls of their home. Faythe didn’t know why the exchange bothered her so much.

  “It’s my bargain—I’ll find it myself,” she said, dismissing their assistance in tracking it down before it was even offered.

  To her shock, it was Marlowe who snapped. “When are you going to stop trying to do everything yourself?” The sharp tone was completely out of character for the blonde. Faythe opened her mouth to respond, but the blacksmith continued. “We’re not going anywhere, so the sooner you accept our help, the quicker we can get this done—and anything else in future since, knowing you, Faythe, there’s likely to be more situations you’ll wind up needing our assistance with.”

  Even the others in the room looked to the soft-spoken blonde, taken aback. Anger wasn’t an emotion that surfaced in the blacksmith often, and Faythe recoiled, embarrassed at the gibe. Jakon shifted, an arm subtly going over Marlowe’s lower back in comfort. The movement stirred something dark and ugly from the depths of Faythe’s mind. It raced ahead of all kinds of hideous thoughts.

  All she could think when she looked at them was that Jakon didn’t need her anymore…

  None of them did.

  A response so cold and resentful burned in Faythe’s throat, and she had to bite down hard, teeth clashing to prevent the sour words from spilling over in her humiliation and worthlessness.

  Without her, everyone would be safe. Both pairs in front of her would be happy.

  A steel guard built around her mind, sealing her emotions before they could recklessly consume her. Instead, Faythe’s face fell hard, blank, as she stared back at Marlowe’s frown of frustration, so out of place on her usually cheerful, bright face.

  At the risk of saying something she might regret, Faythe tore her eyes from the blacksmith without responding and focused her attention on Tauria. “You might be able to feel the ruin like you did tonight if you get close enough.”

  Tauria’s gaze held sympathy, and Faythe could hardly stand to look any of her friends in the eye. The ward gave a nod in response to the knowledge Faythe shared.

  “We should be getting back,” Nik informed them, cutting through the tension that had built.

  Faythe kept the sulking off her face, not even knowing how long had passed since they left Caius and Tres.

  Nik and Tauria left through the small front door after saying a short goodbye to Jakon and Marlowe. Faythe paused when the fae were out of sight, turning back to her human friends.

  “It’s time to move on,” she said quietly, looking around the worn wooden walls of her old home of ten years. “We all need to let go of this damned hut.” She met eyes with Jakon when she couldn’t shift her gaze to Marlowe, still picturing that quick look of anger in the ocean of his irises. She couldn’t bear it. “Move to the cottage. Live comfortably. There’s nothing left here for any of us.”

  “I miss having you with me every day,” Jakon muttered, and she didn’t stop him when he pulled her into his embrace.

  She had no choice but to catch her gaze on Marlowe at his back, and she wished she hadn’t, for something far worse than anger glittered in her irises. Something akin to pain and sadness. Faythe had to swallow the marble of grief and apology that she couldn’t form into words.

  As the tears pricked her eyes within Jakon’s arms, she cowardly closed her eyes and savored the moment wrapped in his woodsy scent.

  Faythe loved Marlowe unconditionally. She loved Nik and Tauria. But for just a few seconds of sorrowful reflection, she couldn’t help but think back to when it was just herself and Jakon. Without danger or intrigue. Plain routine, but joyous memories. When he needed her as much as she needed him, because all they had…was each other.

  Whether he realized it or not, the truth that tore a deep wound within her chest was that Jakon had everything he needed. Faythe was not good for him. Not like Marlowe. She clutched him a little tighter with the painful squeeze on her heart at the thought.

  “I miss you too, Jak,” she whispered.

  Chapter 9

  Faythe

  “You’re joking, right?”

  Faythe stood with arms crossed, staring at the prince from across her room as he kept his distance. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was actually afraid of her reaction to the information he’d dropped on her.

  The idea was ridiculous, laughable even, but had she really built up such a bad reputation for herself that he expected her to lash out with violence? The thought made her drop her arms and relax her posture. She was angry, but not at Nik, and she decided it was best not to kill the messenger this time.

  It was not enough for her to be humiliated standing in the shadows in a guard’s uniform; now, the king wanted to parade her right in front of the vultures who would tear her apart simply for being human.

  The king’s plan made sense. Faythe even wanted to admire the brilliance of it. She would have a lot more opportunity to rummage through the other courts’ minds if she was forced to be among them instead of trying to be inconspicuous from a distance. But the thought of having to suffer their judgmental stares and hear them slander her in their minds while she forced a smile with pleasant chat… It would be a new test of wills for Faythe.

  “He wants me to make sure you’re…prepared.”

  Faythe chuckled without humor. “Prepared,” she mocked. “You mean he sent you to tighten the collar.”

  Nik sighed and finally came closer to where Faythe stood by the warmth of the fire. It blazed at her back to take away the creeping winter night’s chill, a perfect blend of amber since she refused the magick cobalt flames in an attempt to retain some semblance of normality.

  “I’m not here to tell you what to do, but to ask you to be smart,” he pleaded. “This won’t be a simple council meeting with the Lords of High Farrow; these are the powerful courts of Ungardia, and you’d be wise to acknowledge that. Your pride means nothing if you’re dead, and it will be too far out of my hands if you decide to piss off the wrong royal.”

  Faythe heaved a long sigh, but a small, sly smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll behave.” She batted her lashes, and he nudged her arm with a chuckle.

  “Spirits help us all,” he muttered.

  Faythe slumped into an armchair by the fire. She thought Nik would announce his departure—he never did stay long—but he strolled over and helped himself to the chair opposite her. While she studied the flames in the pit in quiet contemplation, she felt him studying her.

  After a short pause, she pondered, “Has the alliance ever extended to Lakelaria?”

  The question clearly took Nik by surprise. His face seemed to fall in understanding, as if he knew her curiosity about the kingdom was fueled by her guilt over her friend Reuben, whom she’d sent there so many months ago. She’d never had closure on his fate.

  “No. Their queen has always insisted she wants no part in the mainland kingdoms’ alliance since it formed after the Great Battles over a century ago. They vowed to take no side and have remained free of conflict.” Nik ran a hand through his black hair. “It’s a completely arrogant way of thinking if you ask me, but they’re almost untouchable with the defenses of the Black Sea along with their fabled warriors who have all kinds of water abilities. I guess they believe they’ll never need our help, so why should they offer theirs?”

  �
��There’s strength in unity.”

  Nik nodded in agreement. “Yes. But some prefer to remain ignorant to conflict.”

  “If they offered aid, perhaps you all could have come together to fight back by now.” It came out as an accusation, and she muttered an apology. Such political matters were outside the prince’s sphere of influence. The drop in his expression made her feel guilty for the remark, as if he agreed, but he also knew there was nothing they could do. “Have you ever met her?” Faythe asked instead. “The Queen of Lakelaria…?” Her heart drummed harder, realizing she was hoping to receive some soothing information about the ruler of the kingdom she’d sent her friend to as a stowaway. She prayed every day that Reuben was safe.

  Nik nodded, and Faythe shifted forward in her seat, her attention piqued. “Once. Over two hundred years ago, when she came to the mainland. I was fairly young.” Nik paused.

  Faythe waited and then realized he was finished speaking. “What was she like?” she pressed, not quite believing he planned to drop the topic there.

  Nik took a long breath as though trying to scramble for loose memories. His cheeks flushed. “Honestly, I was hardly interested in anything political at that age. I don’t remember a lot of that visit as I was usually itching to get back to the training ground or—” He stopped himself, the redness trailing down his neck.

  Faythe’s lips curled in amusement. “Or what?”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “I was young,” he felt the need to reiterate.

  Faythe’s smile stretched to a grin. “Nikalias Silvergriff, what dirty little secrets do you have to hide?” she teased.

  He huffed a laugh, not forgetting he’d asked her the same thing once the first time they lay on the grass in the Eternal Woods and she allowed him into her subconscious mind. Slipping back into his cool arrogance, he said, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Faythe?”

  She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair and folding her legs under her gown. “I think your younger antics with the ladies would hardly surprise anyone.”

  Nik sank back in his seat, one ankle crossing over his knee. “I shall not wreck your innocence with my…antics,” he drawled with the most devious look.

  Faythe quickly extinguished the flames that rose on her face, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. She crossed her arms and matched his stare. “Then I shall not wreck yours with mine.”

  His green irises twinkled in delight. He folded his hands behind his head. “I never did get to ‘sample the full-course menu,’ as you so eloquently put it.”

  It was a playful challenge to see who could concede to embarrassment first. Faythe shook her head, knowing when she was outmatched.

  “You’re insufferable,” she muttered.

  His grin was devastatingly enticing. “Another time then.”

  She ground her teeth, muttering a prayer to the Spirits to soothe her chagrin. “The queen. What do you know of her?” Faythe asked flatly, desperate to change the subject.

  Nik groaned, clearing not reveling in the subject. “She was kind, if a little dull. Stunning, blonde, blue eyes, large—”

  “I’m not interested in the size of her breasts, Nik,” Faythe cut in with a deadpan look when he gestured in front of his chest.

  His smile turned feline. “Large hands,” he finished, flipping his palms around to her.

  Fire ignited inside her body. “Hands?”

  “You should have seen them—big enough to hold four apples in one.”

  She held his stare, the emeralds shining as he reveled in her flustered look at the conclusion she’d jumped to. Then he barked a laugh, and Faythe’s mouth fell open in incredulity.

  “Stupid fae prick,” she grumbled. It only added to Nik’s rolling laughter.

  Faythe sank into her chair with a childish huff. He’d played her for a fool. She had the right mind to cast him out.

  “So gullible, Faythe. We’ll need to work on that.”

  She didn’t look at him, taming her need to take this to the fighting ring below.

  Nik schooled his face before he continued. “The Queen of Lakelaria was exactly like you’d expect of any monarch. It’s said she had a daughter who would have been a little older than me. She was conceived out of wedlock with an unknown father, barely past her first century when she died, but no one knows how.” Nik blew out a breath. “I couldn’t come to care for the queen though—she held an air of self-importance. She’s powerful, and she knows it. Her Waterwielding abilities are legendary, and there are those who believe she commands even the most wicked creatures of the Black Sea.”

  Faythe loosened off her disgruntled posture, her irritation fading in her interest. “Do you believe that?”

  “I don’t think so. Waterwielding is one thing, but taking command of a creature would be more akin to your ability.”

  “Mine doesn’t work on animals.”

  “Exactly. And as far as we know, no other of your kind exists either.”

  Your kind. She hated that the words made her feel isolated. Alone.

  “What of the land and people there?”

  Nik shrugged. “I’ve never been. Though in teachings, we were told it’s perhaps the most beautiful and scenic of all the kingdoms. The water fae are said to be a peaceful people, but absolutely lethal. Water is so variable, a force that can drown, freeze, flood… I wouldn’t want to challenge them, and I’m not surprised Valgard has stayed clear of the great western island.”

  “No water fae dwell on the mainland?”

  “There are some who migrated, but they’re not common. Lakelaria is famously named for its water channels that run throughout the kingdom as though they were stone paths, like in High Farrow, along with various snow-capped mountain ranges. It makes sense they’d want to reside there.”

  “Hmm,” was all Faythe responded, turning to the fire in quiet thought. The Kingdom of the Water Dragon sounded remarkable, and the small weight of guilt over Reuben’s fate eased slightly as she considered perhaps he was safe and living a whole new life across the sea. She held onto that thought, hoping it was enough to relieve the constant turmoil whenever she wondered if he was even still alive.

  She heard Nik lean forward in his seat. “Your friend will have made it. I don’t believe they would turn away a desperate citizen if he was proven to be no threat.”

  “He was never a threat and should never have been made to feel as if his only option were to flee his home.” She realized immediately that her bitter words sounded accusatory again and snapped her head to him. “I’m sorry—”

  “You’re right,” he interjected, his face full of understanding. “I can’t speak for my father’s actions, but they come from a place of wanting to protect the kingdom.”

  “Reuben did nothing wrong.”

  “He committed treason.”

  “He was scared and afraid.”

  “Isn’t everyone?” Nik said in a way that didn’t exclude himself.

  Even on this side of the great fortification, they were afraid. It made her tremble to think that perhaps the scale of the war was worse than the citizens had been led to believe. She supposed in this case, ignorance was bliss, maybe even a mercy, if the alternative was fear and panic with no sense of ease.

  “What is the punishment for treason?”

  “Death.”

  “For all? No matter the scale?”

  Nik’s eyes narrowed a fraction at her fierce pressing, knowing she already knew the answers. He obliged anyway. “Yes. An act against the crown can’t be met with leniency no matter the person. It would show a weak leadership and open the gates for merciless vultures such as Valgard to strike in full force.”

  “Everyone should have a right to trial, to be heard.”

  “And they get that chance, but the ruling must be consistent.”

  “Do you think Reuben should have been killed?”

  It was a test, and one he’d walked right into. Nik knew it, his face wrinkled with conflicting em
otions.

  “Do you forget I was the one who warned him to flee?”

  No. She would never forget. Nik’s act of mercy had sealed her view of him before they even got the chance to meet. Those emerald orbs she locked eyes with before they spoke—she knew even then that he was different. Nik was good in every sense of the word.

  She amended her question. “If you were king…would you have ruled his execution?”

  Nik’s face looked pained, and for a moment, she regretted the question, knowing it weighed with the burden he would one day carry. Decisions he would be forced to make.

  “Why are you asking me this?”

  To prove I’m right. To know you’re not your father. She didn’t voice the words. Faythe didn’t envy his position and the fate of a kingdom that would fall to him when he became king. But she also couldn’t imagine a more fair and just ruler for High Farrow.

  She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  With the silence that fell, Faythe expected the conversation to be over and for Nik to wordlessly take leave. But then he answered quietly, as though his traitorous confession would be swallowed by the crackles of the burning timber they both stared into.

  “No. I don’t think I would.”

  Chapter 10

  Faythe

  The following evening, Faythe dressed in her uniform after the king requested her presence in the throne room. She nervously walked the halls unescorted, her hands slick at her sides as she was not usually summoned on such short notice. She was always briefed—or rather, warned—well in advance of the king desiring her talents at his congregations.

  “I’m going to enjoy this one.”

  Faythe’s heart leaped up her throat at the sound of the wicked voice that haunted her. Captain Varis fell into step beside her, his face beaming with sadistic delight, which made her whole body tremble at the thought of what awaited her.

  She hadn’t had many run-ins with the captain since she became a resident of the castle—much to his fury that she wasn’t damned to ash instead. She didn’t know enough of Varis’s routine to purposely avoid him and wondered if Nik had made sure their paths would cross as little as possible.