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

by C. C. Peñaranda

  “I really wish you could attend the Yulemas Ball. It will be deliriously dull without you.” Tauria’s voice cut through the peaceful silence.

  Faythe rolled her eyes at the ward. She didn’t let it show that she was glad for not being permitted to attend the extravagant event in three weeks’ time given her human heritage. It was a grand ball of splendor and prestige she was far too lowly on the social hierarchy to be granted an invite to. Faythe was relieved more than insulted to be spared a night of distasteful slander and judgmental stares.

  “You’ve survived plenty of them just fine without me.”

  “I don’t want to just survive them anymore. You might have actually brought some enjoyment to the night.”

  Faythe would have appreciated the flattery if it weren’t completely ridiculous and exaggerated. She had other plans anyway. While she had been specifically warned not to leave the castle, as most of the guards would be granted leave for the event, she had little intention of abiding by the king’s rules. She decided weeks ago she would sneak out to the outer town to spend Yulemas on the hills with Jakon and Marlowe, where she’d spent it every other year.

  Faythe and Tauria headed to the stables to seek out the warmth within. The ward rubbed her gloved hands together as she went over to one of the brown mares. Faythe shuddered for heat too now the snow had melted and her wet face was starting to grow numb. She looked around the horses, marveling at their beauty while she blew into her cupped hands in an attempt to warm her cheeks.

  Then she dropped her arms, the ice that froze her having nothing to do with the weather, as she caught a glimpse of the horse occupying the end stall. Its black beauty and stark, contrasting glacier-blue eyes were like no other she’d seen before. There was no mistaking the mare, and she knew it was an impossible coincidence, a chance in a million, for there to be a horse identical to Kali here.

  She slowly willed herself to walk toward the beast, her suspicions only confirmed when the horse stared unflinching at her the whole way. Even though it was foolish, she couldn’t help but think the mare recognized her too. It bowed its head low when she stood in front of its stable, and Faythe raised a hand to stroke her muzzle.

  “She’s a beauty,” Tauria admired as she came up beside her.

  Snapping out of her reeling thoughts, Faythe turned to Tauria. The ward appeared oblivious to who owned the midnight mare. At the thought of Reylan, she instantly felt anxious, sick to her stomach.

  Why would the Rhyenelle general return?

  Every motion set her on edge as Faythe walked the halls of the castle. Tauria left her to go to her own rooms, seeking warmth by the fire and wanting to change out of her damp dress from being outdoors. Faythe couldn’t feel the cold anymore in her nervous state. She wasn’t sure why she was so rigid at the prospect of running into Reylan at any given turn. Perhaps it was the thought that whatever his intentions were for being here, they were likely not in good faith. Not with the threat the King of High Farrow posed to his own kingdom.

  She was about to head back to her own rooms after a futile effort to scout for him, beginning to believe maybe he wasn’t in the castle after all. Then she halted abruptly in the wide hallway, almost jumping out of her skin, when the throne room doors were loudly hauled open.

  The silver-white of Reylan’s hair was the first thing to catch her attention. The sight gave her the conflicted emotion of thrill laced with fear. She tuned in to the end of his conversation with the king who followed him out.

  “I look forward to seeing the results of your labor, General. I’m glad you decided to take up my offer even as a temporary position,” King Orlon finished.

  Her eyes locked on their joined forearms, incredulous.

  “It’s my pleasure, Your Majesty. I hope I can make a difference in High Farrow. We are allies after all.” With this, Reylan turned to fix his sapphire orbs directly on Faythe. A sharp tremor ran through her at their knowing gleam. When the king’s eyes followed, they dropped the handshake, and he turned to her.

  “Ah, Lady Faythe, I was rather hoping to catch you. Will you join me?” Orlon’s tone was unnaturally tame and even held a forced kindness as he addressed her in front of the general. He held out an arm, silently beckoning her to enter the throne room behind him.

  Faythe paled at his deadly stare, knowing the threat of his wrath if she declined. So, nodding sweetly, she gave a small bow of her head, much to her reluctance, before strolling up to the pair and making her way inside. Reylan’s eyes never left her, and she tried not to stare back in response. She had so many questions for him, but right now, she had to dine with a demon.

  When she was fully inside the great hall, she didn’t immediately turn upon hearing the large doors groan shut once again. The king passed by her and twisted around just before the dais.

  “I want you to keep a close eye on him,” he said plainly but quietly. He didn’t have to clarify who he referred to, casting a look behind her as if the general were still behind the doors.

  “You don’t trust him, Your Majesty?”

  His eyes narrowed at the ghost of Reylan’s presence, and he raised his chin in contemplation. “Why should Agalhor’s best and most loyal general leave him if they face threats, as you say?”

  Faythe trembled, realizing this was as much an interrogation as it was a command to spy on Reylan. Nevertheless, she stood firm. “Perhaps there turned out to be no threat after all.”

  The king hummed, far from convinced. “I’ll be having his every move watched, and I expect you to get close enough to him to know his every thought too. I don’t care what it takes.” It was a command, and she didn’t fail to pick up on the hidden meaning. It wasn’t enough for her to be the king’s executioner or spymaster; he saw an opportunity to degrade her further by expecting her to be his courtesan too.

  Her fingers twitched, but she fought the urge to clench her fists in fury at the suggestion. Her teeth ground together instead, and it took all her willpower to force a nod in understanding and agreement. It still boiled her blood to have the king suggest she be used in such a way, as if no part of her remained her own anymore.

  She would never let that happen.

  Faythe stood outside her rooms after her short meeting with the king, staring directly at the door opposite. She didn’t even know if Reylan occupied the same chambers as his last visit now his position was to be extended in the castle, yet she couldn’t bring herself to retire for the evening until she found out. She was glad there was no one around to notice her nervous pacing as she’d been deliberating knocking for the past five minutes.

  Without giving herself a chance to back out, she stormed the short distance and rapped twice upon the door. Her heart thundered. She wanted to take it back, silently praying no one would answer.

  Luck wasn’t in her favor.

  A heartbeat later, the door swung open, and Reylan wore a smirk as he stepped forward, crossed his arms, and leaned casually against the frame. “I was wondering how long you would stand out here for,” he said with a wicked grin. “You far surpassed my expectations.”

  She only gaped, caught between wanting to abandon the confrontation completely and whack the smug look off his face. “I told you not to come back to High Farrow,” she hissed with all the intimidation of a mouse in the face of the white lion.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t take orders from you,” he said dismissively.

  She itched to respond in the best way she knew how. Her hand curled around the phantom hilt of her sword, and she longed to swing it at the general in front of her. “I could tell the king everything.”

  His eyes danced in challenge. “You could. I would love to watch you explain how I came to the knowledge of the kings’ plans.”

  She couldn’t out him without exposing herself and what she did to Varlas to obtain the information.

  “What are you doing here, Reylan?” she demanded with no small amount of accusation.

  His head tilted in amusement. “Now who�
�s the suspicious one? A rose is just a rose, Faythe.”

  She didn’t react to his regurgitation of her own words. She lifted her chin instead, determined not to yield victory. “A rose is too pretty for you. You’re more like a blossomless thornbush,” she sneered.

  His smile grew wider. “Because you think I’m dangerous?”

  “Because you’re a prick.”

  He straightened and stepped forward so fast she stumbled all the way back until she met the cold wood of her own door. When he stopped, she saw the flash of his extended canines right before he leaned in close and let his breath caress her neck. His hand beside her head trapped her. There were only two reasons for a fae to bare their fangs: in threat, or in lust.

  Her throat bobbed, turning bone-dry at knowing it could only be a deadly warning. She was too frozen in shock to think or move. Her pulse became a prominent throb in the veins his teeth would puncture. His mouth never made the connection, but the lingering threat rattled the heart in her chest, and his proximity was electrifying.

  “It would be so easy to end you,” he said quietly in a deep, gravelly tone. Faythe shivered, but not in fear. “So many ways your life could be gone in less than a second.” The vibrations from each word rippled over her skin, and she almost forgot where she was. Her fingers flexed and clenched against the wood as if it were a material that could be grasped in response to the tension flushing her body.

  Faythe felt the hum of his touch just before his fingers grazed over her neck above her collarbone, where she knew the unruly scar of her bite wound from the foul beast would remain a permanent marking.

  “Who did this to you?” His voice turned surprisingly dark, and she thought she detected anger in it. But she could barely register his words when all she could think about was the cool gap that remained between them and how she didn’t want it to exist.

  Her heart beat wildly, and she tilted her head subconsciously, feeling his breath become hotter, his mouth closer. She wanted him make contact. Her blood roared, eyes almost falling closed.

  But then something snapped her sense, and she internally recoiled in horror. Bracing her hands on his solid chest, she pushed with everything she had, and Reylan stepped back, though she knew it wasn’t from any feat of strength on her part. He wasn’t grinning anymore as he stared back at her, seeming to return to his own right mind. His gaze held shock as he took a step away from her.

  “Stay out of my way,” she hissed, feeling the fury rise in her with the warning. “You’re not here to play general to a foreign kingdom, one you can’t even stand to be in. You’re up to something, and I don’t care what happens to me—I won’t hesitate to turn you in if I find reason.” Not giving him a chance to belittle her statement or authority, she spun away from him, throwing her door open and slamming it shut behind her.

  Her pulse raced, and her thoughts were erratic. She despised more than anything that she’d allowed herself to be foolishly affected by him like some weak, flustered girl! It angered her, bewildered her, but most of all…it terrified her. Not because she feared him, but because she enjoyed the completely new, unexplainable thrill of such a dangerous desire.

  Chapter 35

  Faythe

  The following morning, Faythe awoke earlier than usual without getting much sleep. She cursed Reylan for being the annoying force that rattled her thoughts too much to get any decent rest. Knowing he was a few steps across the hall, she dressed in her fighting suit and headed straight for the training room to release the frustration and anger he’d succeeded in riling up. What made it worse was that he’d barely even tried to invoke such a reaction.

  Nik and Tauria joined her a little later, and she was grateful for a sparring partner to use as moving target practice. She faced off with the ward while the prince observed casually from the side of the large, raised training ring. They used long staffs as Tauria’s weapon of choice, and Faythe relished the opportunity to advance her skills and knowledge of the unusual tools of attack and defense. Every time the two females came down here, their time was spent mostly on teaching as Tauria carefully demonstrated her maneuvers and balance with the long stick of wood. Faythe had gotten enough practice during her months in the castle that she was actually becoming quite good at it.

  She threw everything she had into the session, releasing all her indignation, and even had Tauria retreating instead for once. When the ward was forced off the slightly elevated platform, Faythe stopped, panting heavily. Even Tauria looked out of breath, but not nearly as much as she. In a castle full of fae, Faythe was starting to hate the physical inferiority that came with being human.

  “What’s got you so worked up this morning?” Tauria commented with a hint of concern.

  Faythe turned away from her, walking back into the center and taking up stance to start again. “Nothing,” she muttered through a long breath of exertion.

  Tauria didn’t move, much to her irritation. Her body protested, but her mind was still wild with thoughts, and she felt the burning need to release the pent-up emotions through the swinging of something.

  “Perhaps you should take a break,” Nik chimed in knowingly. He had been on the receiving end of her sword many times when she was unhinged in anger. She winced at the memories, not proud of herself for those outbursts, and took a few calming breaths. Nik was right. Running her energy into the ground wouldn’t do her any favors.

  “Humans and their erratic emotions…”

  At the voice that joined them in the room, Faythe managed all of five seconds before her fire was sparked again. She had yet to even glimpse the general.

  “Or is that just you, Faythe?”

  She didn’t need to move as he came to stand next to Nik and Tauria in front of her with a crooked, taunting smile. She glared at him with the force of her anger as if it could turn him to ash where he stood.

  Nik shifted at the tension, his eyes darting between her and Reylan. “What are you doing here?” he asked the general—and he didn’t mean in the training room.

  Reylan turned to him. “I think you know why I’m here.”

  The prince’s eyes narrowed as he folded his arms. “Are you on orders from Agalhor?”

  She knew they held some kind of friendship. It was clear from the way they engaged at the kings’ meetings. However, she wasn’t confident it was strong enough for Nik to trust him so easily with the rising conflict between their kingdoms.

  “I’m not your enemy, Nik. We’ve fought side by side in battle against those we should all be focusing our attention on.” He spoke to the prince as both a commander and a friend. “I’ll be damned if I do nothing to prevent us from standing on opposite sides instead.” Reylan was fierce in his words, and her dislike for him wavered slightly in appreciation that his loyalty wasn’t mindless to the king he served.

  The prince nodded in agreement and understanding. They had a common goal of trying to stop the Kings of High Farrow and Olmstone in their quest for power. She knew it would be hard for Nik to silently work against his own father. It frustrated her that all of this could be avoided were Nik on the throne instead.

  With their concerns addressed, Reylan turned his attention to Faythe once again. His smile was goading as he drew his sword. She watched the dark gray blade sing free from its scabbard. Niltain steel. It shouldn’t be surprising considering the Niltain Isles lay within Rhyenelle. In fact, she was sure it was more unusual that she owned such a precious metal.

  “What are you doing?” She frowned in annoyance as he stepped up and into the ring.

  “Wood or steel?”

  Her teeth ground as he got closer. “You really want to face off against me right now?”

  He grinned wildly. “Why so angry, Faythe?”

  It was deliberate; he was trying to rouse a reaction. It worked, and she met Tauria’s eye at the same time as she tossed the staff she held back to her. Tauria caught it effortlessly. Nik was already holding Lumarias. He copied her, and Faythe’s hand molded around the hi
lt as she caught it, the sword becoming an extension of her own arm. She flexed it in her wrist, savoring the feel as it awakened a dormant passion, rattled her senses, and honed her mind for combat.

  Now, it was her turn to smile with feline delight as she felt her confidence rise with each twist of her blade.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Nik said warily from the sidelines.

  Faythe’s grin was arrogant. “Don’t worry—I won’t go too hard on him.”

  She wasn’t really foolish enough to think she would win in a sparring match against a centuries-old fae war general. Her pleasure lay in shaking the feathers of the Phoenix.

  Reylan barked a laugh. “I’ve taken down fae thrice your size with little effort.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Though you misjudge my flaws, General.”

  “You can’t get inside my head.”

  “Are you afraid it’ll even the playing field? Or perhaps besting those who are physically inferior is what inflates your ego so much.”

  His eyes danced in amusement. “All right, I’ll let you in. Just the surface.”

  She didn’t let her triumph show as she stepped into a defensive position. Reylan assessed her from head to toe. She thought it was to size her up as the opposition, but a dark look of recognition and then appreciation crossed his face before he composed himself. That was when she realized exactly what had caught his attention.