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

by C. C. Peñaranda

  Nik was dumbstruck when her words finally registered. He stared at her with awe and insufferable guilt that he had allowed himself to believe for one moment her golden heart was capable of the brutal murder of an innocent. He realized now that Faythe had given the boy the best possible death with her ability. Though it was a mercy, she would shoulder the burden of that act for the rest of her mortal life. Nik knew this firsthand as he too had been forced to commit such odious acts at the command of the king.

  “Then he got a better end than what he would have done without you,” he said, but he knew it would do little to console her. It never did for him.

  “He was only young. He didn’t deserve an end at all.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  She turned to look at him then, her gold eyes hard and robbed of all glittering joy. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  He frowned, hurt by her rejection and the coldness in her tone. “Why?”

  “Conflict of interest,” she said simply, and her emotionless features twisted his stomach.

  “I’m here at your side, not his.”

  “When he allows you to be. Blood is thicker than water, Nik. I’m not a fool to believe you would choose me over him.”

  “I didn’t realize it was a choice.”

  “Then you are the fool. You can’t be on both sides. Your father is wrong and has to be stopped.”

  The prince shook his head. “You talk of high treason, Faythe, yet you forget where you are; who could quite easily overhear you. I’ve done what I can to keep you out of trouble, but if you’re going to go looking for it, I won’t be able to save you this time.”

  Faythe laughed bitterly. “You’ve only proven my point, Prince. Now, go, like the good little lapdog you are.”

  Nik knew she didn’t mean it—not truly. She was hurting, and he couldn’t blame her for wanting to project her feelings onto him for being the son of the king who had forced her to carry out heinous, irreversible acts. Still, he felt a surge of anger at the comment and pain that it had come from her.

  He let it simmer before saying, “He wasn’t always like this, you know?” Nik didn’t look at her again as he spoke. “Everything changed just before the Great Battles. He came back from a kings’ trip to Rhyenelle, and he was never the same. Then the battles happened, and my mother was killed shortly after. I always thought it was a collection of things that turned his heart,” he admitted, not sure why it was all pouring out of him now. Perhaps this was his campaign to make her understand why he couldn’t turn his back on his father despite a century of disagreement and hating his new harsh and merciless ruling. “I guess a part of me hopes the father I knew, the one I have better memories with, still lives on in some tangible way.”

  Silence fell between them for a long moment. They both sat in each other’s company, reflecting on their own sadness and losses while they looked out over the city lit up like a river of floating lanterns.

  “I’m sorry,” Faythe said quietly.

  Nik smiled weakly. “Me too.”

  “You’re the king these people deserve, Nik. If I were granted one wish in this life, it would be to live long enough to see it happen.”

  His pride swelled, humbled by the comment, but then his heart fell in sadness at the reminder of Faythe’s mortality. As he looked upon her face, he knew his one wish was to see her live for far longer than her human body would allow.

  Nik held her distant golden eyes and was overcome with a wave of immense guilt. Part of him wanted to embrace her, comfort her, but he was pained with the internal knowledge of how he had taken advantage of her before when she was vulnerable. When she was searching for an outlet; a light in the dark that he wanted to be for her.

  He had selfishly given in to his attraction to Faythe even though he’d tried to deny it for her sake. She had become a distraction, an addiction, as he always craved more of her. To know what it felt like to kiss her, to touch her, to know of every strange impossibility that lay within the human.

  The bond they shared and the love he felt for her was real—that had never been a question in his mind—and it had only strengthened with time. But the romance he’d led her into…he knew even then that it would never last.

  If time didn’t tear them apart, his heart would, for it had always belonged to another, and the truth that churned his gut with self-resentment…was that he had used Faythe. Used her to feel again when he’d spent decades with a heart so numb.

  Before Faythe, he had not wanted nor desired any deeper feelings with the courtiers he occasionally gave in to flirtations with. He used them too, but at least they were knowing and willing.

  Faythe was…different. In attempting to protect her body, to keep her from the hands of the king—which he’d failed at too—he’d been drawn to her fierceness and resilience, her strong will and need to protect, even when he tried to keep his distance. Now, when she learned the truth, he feared her heart would be damaged as a consequence of his actions.

  It was a thought he couldn’t bear.

  Giving in to his desires for Faythe had also done nothing to ease the deep root of pain he felt from always being so close to the one he longed for but could never have.

  Nik never believed Faythe and Tauria would ever cross paths. Even more, that they would forge their own bond of friendship. It warmed him as much as it pained him to see them together.

  He’d hurt the princess too. Not that she would ever confess to him through her hardened mask of indifference when it came to any of his private affairs. It was better this way. Better for her to think he held no deeper feeling for her. The soul-deep twist he felt every time he caught that flicker of disappointment in her hazel gaze was bearable only in the knowledge it kept her safe.

  All he could do was hope that when he did find the courage to bear all to Faythe, she could find it in her heart to forgive him. Because romantic or not, it pained him horribly to imagine the void that would hollow his chest if she decided he wasn’t worth her friendship either.

  Faythe would never know that she had saved him. From becoming so ice-cold in his silent misery and torment that he feared he would never feel again.

  Chapter 12

  Faythe

  A soft knock sounded at Faythe’s door, halting her back-and-forth pacing and silencing her reeling thoughts. In her restless solitude, she’d been wearing down the floorboards near the fire all day. She didn’t identify the knock as either of her fae friends or her two handmaidens. Instant curiosity had her striding to answer.

  Faythe blinked in surprise to find a familiar head of disheveled brown hair and a bright, boyish smile standing outside. Caius waited patiently while she stared at him in confusion, trying to rack her mind for reasons why he would visit her rooms.

  “Can I come inside?” he asked hesitantly.

  Faythe realized her pinched face was anything but a warm reception. She relaxed her expression and forced a smile to accompany her nod as she stepped aside for him to enter. Clicking the door shut, Faythe turned to him and crossed her arms.

  “There are no meetings today,” she stated.

  It was near nightfall too, but it was the only conclusion she could draw for him being here.

  Caius glanced casually around the room as he walked in farther, and then he turned to her with a soft half-smile. “That’s not why I’m here. May I?” He gestured to one of the armchairs by the fire.

  Faythe nodded and dropped her arms, strolling over as he made himself comfortable.

  Caius’s effortless presence was what had drawn her to him during her first few weeks in the castle. He was warm and kind, and being around him was like being in a constant embrace. Though they had formed a friendship from their posts in the guard together, it was the first time he had come to her directly off-duty.

  He looked from her to the vacant chair opposite expectantly. Faythe didn’t want to sit. She had barely been able to sit all day with the storm of thoughts and emotions battering her mind. Yet it didn’t loo
k as if the fae guard was willing to talk until she did.

  With a suppressed huff, she reluctantly forced herself down. Her knee began an irritating bounce in place of her need to pace. Caius seemed to notice her restlessness, and his face fell to understanding.

  “I’m sorry for what you were forced to do,” he said at last.

  Faythe had to look away from him, targeting her hard gaze on the amber flames instead while her lips tightened at the mention of the murder she committed last night. It was the reason she had driven herself from sleep to focus solely on reinforcing the barricade on her emotions that strained painfully to burst. She couldn’t afford to break down right now. There was still work to be done, other young lives that could be saved.

  Caius went on. “I know you won’t want to hear this, but it was brave, what you did.”

  He was right: It was the last thing she wanted to hear. Nothing about what she did deserved an ounce of praise.

  “It’s not the act but the intention that separates the good from the evil.”

  Faythe shook her head, wanting to expel his words from her mind. She didn’t deserve consolation; she didn’t deserve for her actions to be justified. Anger made her surge to her feet.

  “Did Nik send you?” she accused.

  “No,” Caius answered calmly.

  “Then why are you here?” It was a snap she couldn’t bite back, the only way she could get him to see how dark and ugly she felt within.

  “You’ve been distant lately, and you haven’t accompanied us on patrol for a while.”

  Faythe waited for him to expand on it, finding it hard to believe he was here out of his own concern for her. Why would he care to notice?

  “I’m fine.”

  He curved a brow, flashing a look at her clenched, vibrating fists. “Really?”

  “Really,” Faythe echoed through her teeth.

  Caius didn’t balk at her dismissal. He folded his ankle across his knee casually. Faythe could only stare at him incredulously and with growing ire.

  “I want to be alone,” she ground out, trying not to release the full force of her frustration on him. He was the least deserving of becoming the target of her indignation.

  “No, you don’t.”

  Her nostrils flared at his defiance however well-intentioned it was. She held his brown eyes—so innocent and warm—and her anger diffused the longer she stared at the boyish face that calmed her wrath, wondering why he would extend his kindness to her. Whatever he read on her face curled a small smile on his mouth. Faythe couldn’t return it. If she didn’t have her anger to overshadow her guilt and grief, she embraced a cold numbness instead.

  “You don’t have to check in on me, Caius.” It left her lips as a whisper, a hushed plea.

  Caius shuffled in his chair, saying casually, “We all need someone.”

  Her brow flinched at that.

  “Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

  He added a smirk, and Faythe did smile then, even huffing a short laugh at his effortless attempt to get her to forget, just for a moment, the darkness that surrounded her.

  With a long breath that felt a little lighter, Faythe once again took up the chair opposite Caius.

  For a long moment, neither of them spoke, simply tuning in to the fire’s dance in their own quiet thought. Having friendly company did help to soothe Faythe’s sharp emotions. Even in silence.

  She slid her eyes to the fae guard. “Don’t you have family waiting for you if you’re not on duty?”

  A flicker of sadness crossed Caius’s expression, but he was quick to wipe it away with his usual quirk of a smile. “It’s just me,” he answered through a long breath. “It’s been that way for a long time, so you don’t need to feel bad for me,” he added with a knowing look, but the shadow of loss, however long ago, lingered on his face.

  Faythe’s throat tightened. “What happened?”

  Caius unhooked his legs, leaning on his forearms, but he didn’t meet her eye as he seemed to travel to the memory she’d stirred. Faythe waited patiently and was about to divert the subject at the dark crease of sorrow on his face. Then Caius spoke.

  “I’m not full fae,” he confessed.

  Faythe’s shock hit her like a physical blow. Caius spared her a quick glance to absorb her reaction, and she pictured her own wide-mouthed bewilderment as it triggered faint amusement in him.

  His face fell into a frown as he continued. “My father is fae, but I’ve never met him. My mother was human but died in childbirth. I was lucky enough that the woman who aided her labor had a kind soul and big heart. She took me in rather than abandoning me to the grim fate so many other demi-fae meet.

  “Despite everything, my childhood wasn’t all that awful. I was housed and fed, albeit isolated. She kept me hidden, and as the years went by, all I could do was watch her age and eventually die, old and frail, while I wasn’t even full-grown in the lifespan of a fae.

  “From then, I had to carve a path for myself when no sure way was laid. That’s when I joined the guard, just old enough to start their basic training. I found friends here, family, and for a while, I thought perhaps life as a demi-fae wouldn’t be so bad after all. You see, the woman who brought me up tried to instil in me the hardship I may face from the world outside our small home.”

  Caius’s face was soft and bright as he spoke of the woman who raised him, but when it fell again, Faythe braced for his story to take a sorrowful turn.

  His features sharpened as the amber flames highlighted the hard mask he had to wear to get through the next part of his life story.

  “There were many for a long time who looked at me as if I were sullied and unworthy of being in their ranks. I was tormented mentally, reading into every sign. I look just like a fae, I have their strength and speed, and I was never behind in training, but it didn’t stop me from feeling like I was always weaker in comparison. I still do sometimes.”

  Caius locked onto her gaze, face full of…understanding. “Even in friends, I thought I saw things that were never there—hatred and disgust. I was different, and I was almost ready to bow down to that fact and accept it was all I would ever be. Different and unworthy.” He took a pause, and hesitation flinched his brow. Faythe kept still and patient though her heart was splintering. “I guess I’m telling you this because I know how it feels…to think you’re a burden and unwanted, even to the people who are close to you. It’s like we always feel as if we have something to prove—to others, to ourselves—perhaps in a longing that our twisted existence will count for something in this world.”

  Faythe swallowed, having no words to respond with even if she could get them past the hard lump in her throat. In the way Caius spoke, connecting them as one and the same though their experiences were separate, she felt a new sense of liberation. To have someone who truly understood. Every dark and desolate thought she’d ever had about herself, Caius had felt it about himself too.

  She never would have known the guard wasn’t full fae. That he was like her in a way. Never in the time she had known him did he appear any different on the exterior. But in his mind, he would always harbor that doubt. She knew this because she felt this.

  “Thank you for sharing that with me,” she finally choked out.

  Caius’s smile turned up on her own face, and she felt a small weight lift from her shoulders.

  “Your differences only make you weak if you let them, Faythe. It’s when you embrace them that you start to live the life you were meant to lead. Not everyone has that strength.” He stood, looking down at her with a hint of challenge. “I believe that you do, but let me tell you, it’s easy to push away those who are there for you. It takes strength to accept help and even more to ask for it.”

  Faythe stood too and felt a new confidence curving her spine and squaring her shoulders as she did. In the flare of Caius’s eye, it was as if he saw the change within her too.

  “You are the brave one, Caius.”

  He
huffed a laugh at that, and when it ceased and they looked at each other, his arms opened at the same time Faythe took a step to fall into them.

  Her brow furrow as she closed her eyes in his embrace. “Thank you.”

  His arms tightened a fraction. “Anytime.”

  When they released each other, Faythe took a long inhale, feeling her mind clear as she began to absorb his encouraging words. They helped her sort through the chaos of thoughts she’d pondered endlessly before he arrived.

  The kings’ meetings were in just a few days, and Faythe couldn’t risk frequent absence to get the boys to safety. It dawned on her there were only two people she could ask, but after their last rocky meeting, Faythe couldn’t stand the thought of bringing danger to Jakon and Marlowe’s door when it was the exact reason she felt the need to distance herself from them.

  But this wasn’t a selfish ask, and when she took her own hideous insecurities out of the mix, she knew both her human friends would want to help if the alternative was letting the boys get captured.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Caius’s careful voice cut through her thoughts, and for once, she felt liberated to open up about the storm in her mind.

  “If I accompany you on patrol tomorrow night, can you get me to Jakon and Marlowe?”

  Diverting from the rest of the patrol group was easier than Faythe anticipated with Caius by her side. The windows of the cottage her friends had moved to glowed with hues of orange and yellow, signaling they were home and still awake.

  A head of smooth blonde hair greeted her, and Faythe stiffened as Marlowe’s stunned face looked back at her. For the first time, she didn’t know how to react in Marlowe’s presence, feeling the mild tension from their last encounter still lingering in the air between them. So many words chaotically swirled at the forefront of her mind but became choked in her throat every time she formed any kind of sentence.

  Faythe realized what she owed Marlowe…was time. To listen to everything she had bottled up inside since they were torn apart. Amid the chaos of her own life and the guilt of wrecking Marlowe and Jakon’s with her mess, Faythe had failed to consider how deeply the events of her capture and their separation might have affected the blacksmith along with losing her father and the burden of her gift.