An Heir Comes to Rise

by C. C. Peñaranda

  She batted his hand away with playful ire. “There’s room for two of us to share that top spot now.”

  He looked at her with love and gratitude, giving a nod of appreciation at the comment. Faythe replied with a warm smile before scooting off to change.

  That evening, Faythe insisted Marlowe and Jakon go out without her, claiming she was too tired to accompany them. It wasn’t entirely a lie—she was tired—but she really wanted to go alone to practice her sword skills in preparation for her first fight.

  It hadn’t fully settled that she was about to face off in a real challenge that could harm or kill her if things went horribly wrong. She could already hear Jakon’s fury if he found out, and it made her nauseatingly guilty for keeping yet another deadly secret from him. But she knew what she was doing, and she didn’t need his lectures on what was best for her.

  Faythe decided to avoid the square, not wanting to risk running into her friends or any of the fae patrol. Instead, she found herself scaling the hills toward the woods, figuring a tree trunk might at least provide her with stationary target practice.

  Her boots crunched over fallen branches on the woodland floor as she passed through the maze of staggered trees, making for the waterfall glade ahead. When she emerged, she got all of a few steps before stopping dead in her tracks at the cold pinch of pointed metal on her back. Not daring to move or breathe, she remained paralyzed to the spot until the assailant on the other end of the blade spoke.

  “Please state your name and business.”

  At the sound of Nik’s mocking voice, her shoulders fell in relief—which quickly turned to annoyance as she spun around to glare at him. “You’re an ass,” she muttered. “What are you doing here?”

  He laughed and lowered his sword. “I believe you’re in my secret hiding spot.” He cocked his head in amusement. “What are you hiding from, Faythe?”

  “Nothing,” she mumbled. “I just came to practice in peace.” She emphasized the last word.

  Nik shrugged. “Don’t let me get in your way.” He sheathed his sword at his hip. “It’s all yours.” He walked past her and took a seat on a large rock near the lake, pulling out a dagger to fidget with and making a show of looking like he wasn’t paying her any attention.

  She grumbled, irked already that she didn’t have the place to herself. She hadn’t considered the possibility he might be here and realized she didn’t know much about him at all, such as what he got up to when he wasn’t being an annoying bastard in their lessons or when he wasn’t on whatever guard duty the king assigned him. She never saw him around the outer town at least.

  Not in the mood to converse, she swung off her cloak and drew Lumarias, trying to block out his presence. Taking up poise with her sword, she began to duck, swing, and dodge, releasing herself to that glorious calm until it was only her and the air she cleaved.

  To her surprise, Nik went a good while without saying anything. He didn’t move from his lazy position on the rocks, but when she stopped to dare a glance at him, she found him studying her intently. It made her squirm inwardly, and she fidgeted, flexing her sword in her wrist. Then he was on his feet, cloak discarded and sword drawn, coming to a stance in front of her.

  “Now, let me correct everything you’re doing wrong.” He smiled arrogantly. She was about to retort when he said, “You’ve got great skill, Faythe, but a load more potential if you have the right person show you.” There was no mockery or insult in his tone.

  “So you’re going to be my teacher?”

  He nodded. “In mind skills, sword skills, and…other skills, if you find yourself lacking,” he added suggestively.

  She gaped, lifting her sword to poke him with the pointed end. He batted it away with his own blade before she could, and the clang of steel echoed through the clearing along with his bark of laughter.

  “You really can’t help yourself, can you?” she grumbled.

  He crossed his arms, still holding his sword. “I’ve never been with a human before. I’d be curious to see if your kind is as…fragile as you look.” He grinned deviously.

  She didn’t hesitate and brought her sword up in a flash reaction, going for his neck.

  Faster than she could blink, his blade was up and connecting with hers once again before it could land. His bellows of laughter resonated through the open space. She only glared at him, her temper flaring.

  “Good. Now, when you left step, be sure to be in a position to cover your right flank from attack.” He demonstrated her error by darting for her side and kicking her feet from under her.

  Faythe landed on the grass with a thud, wide-eyed in disbelief. She wanted to shout that he had caught her unaware and hadn’t given her time to even attempt a defense, but her anger blazed and fused any words, leaving only a burning need to respond with the steel in her palm.

  She shot to her feet. In a burst of blind rage, she swiped for him over and over, in a quick round of lethal blurred steel, until she was panting. He deflected every strike and swing with immortal ease. Tears welled in her eyes out of frustration and fury—or the fact she was realizing she wasn’t as good as she thought or Ferris believed. She was very likely to only embarrass herself in The Cave…or worse.

  “Faythe, stop,” Nik said calmly.

  She didn’t. She continued her onslaught of unfaltering attacks. Every time he effortlessly stepped out of the path of her blade, he only made her blood pump harder and fueled her determination.

  He ducked the next blow and spun around her so quickly she didn’t have time to register the move until she was again falling flat on her back against the cool green floor. She panted and clamped her eyes shut, cursing the tears that escaped.

  “You need to learn to channel your rage, not let it consume you,” he said quietly from above.

  She didn’t know why she was so angry. Or why when she held a blade in her hands, it seemed to open the floodgates of indignation and grief she spent so long holding back with weak fortification.

  “Thanks for the advice,” she said sarcastically, pushing herself to her feet. She walked a few steps away before twisting to him, her sword angled again. “Teach me something of use, will you?”

  He didn’t balk or position himself to fight at the challenge. “Where does the anger come from?”

  She went on the offensive once more, but he still didn’t raise his sword as he ducked from her blade. “I don’t want to be weak,” she spat, thrusting forward. He dodged her again. “I don’t want to be defenseless.” Another swipe of her sword. “I don’t want to be afraid.” He kept dancing around her blows, and she felt her temper rise again. “I don’t want anyone else to ever get hurt because I was too cowardly and incapable of protecting them!” she screamed in frustration.

  Her eyes locked on his as the last words left her. She brought her hands up, blade poised—and then she saw his next move before it happened. In a split-second reaction, she twisted her sword and felt it connect with the edge of his thigh, slicing right through where, just a second sooner, he would have stepped fully out of range.

  Faythe stopped, breathless, and stared at the shallow gash in Nik’s leg that had started to bleed through the fabric of his pants. Her eyes snapped to his, and he stared back at her in surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” she breathed.

  She dropped her sword, only now returning to her full senses as she realized what she’d done; the feral rage she’d let consume her.

  “How did you do that?” was all he said.

  She shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know. It was like—oh, Gods, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” she stuttered. All at once, her other emotions returned and threatened to drown her now the anger had subsided.

  As if sensing it, he said, “It’s nothing. I heal far faster than you. It’ll be completely gone in less than an hour.” His eyes bore into hers in bewilderment, awe, curiosity… Faythe wasn’t quite sure what it was.

  “I lost control. I don’t know what happened,�
�� she muttered weakly.

  His face softened. “You have a fire in you. That’s a good thing—if you can learn to harness it.” After another assessing look, he went on, “You’re faster than any mortal I’ve ever seen, but that… It was impossibly quick, even for you.”

  She swallowed, her throat suddenly bone-dry. “I don’t know how to explain it… It was like I could see your intentions before you physically moved.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Your ability is more impressive than I thought. It could be an invaluable skill in combat,” he said at last.

  She blinked. “Wouldn’t that be…cheating?”

  “If you have an advantage, why not use it?”

  She pondered for a moment, deciding it couldn’t hurt to see what she was capable of. “I don’t know how to read a mind. It’s always been accidental.” She cringed as she glanced at his leg, slightly relieved to see the wound had already started to knit together.

  “Then we’ll have to figure it out—together,” he said with a small smile.

  She was grateful to have him as her friend. That was what she considered him now, whether it was mutual or not, and she felt bad she had ever doubted his motives when he’d given her no reason to. Most of all, she was glad to not be alone.

  At the thought, she perked up. “Where do we start?”

  His wicked grin returned as he motioned for her to retrieve her sword with a flick of his own. “First, the basics. You’re good—great even, by mortal standards.” His green eyes flashed. “But you can be better.”

  Chapter 21

  For an hour, Faythe and Nik parried back and forth with deliberate slowness while he demonstrated a range of new maneuvers, as well as how to attack and deflect using more than just her blade. They even ditched the swords at one point and practiced dodges, kicks, and how to get out of compromised positions. Faythe felt wonderfully drunk on the combat knowledge and techniques he shared with her and was in utter awe at the way he moved, a centuries-old fae warrior honed for the battlefield.

  She wanted to continue, thinking she could never get enough, but Nik insisted they take a break. They sat on the rocks by the lake, Faythe catching her breath, though Nik didn’t look winded in the slightest, much to her irritation.

  “What did you mean earlier?” Nik broke the silence. “When you said you don’t want anyone else to get hurt?”

  She didn’t answer immediately as she decided whether to share the personal information with him. But she already considered him a friend, and at his look of genuine concern, it didn’t scare her to reveal the most vulnerable part of herself: her fear.

  She looked away. “My mother. She’s dead…because of me. It’s what I saw the first time we came here. I think it wanted me to admit it—face it. My fear of losing someone else to my own cowardice,” she said into the lake as if whatever governed the woods was listening too. She told him the events leading up to and after what happened that night, and he listened in respectable silence. When she finished, they remained in quiet thought for a long moment.

  “Valgard soldiers have been breaking through our borders for years—it was likely they who took your mother for information. You were just a child. It was not your fault,” he said solemnly and with a hint of anger she knew was directed at the ruthless kingdom of Valgard.

  She appreciated his attempt to console her, but she had already come to terms with that night and accepted her role in it. She gave him a weak smile regardless.

  “What about your mother?” she asked carefully, noting the shift in his face. His jaw flexed, and he refused to meet her eye. She waited for his refusal to speak of it again, expecting his silence in answer.

  “She was killed nearly one hundred years ago by an intruder. They were never caught,” he said quietly.

  Though a great measure of time separated their trauma, Faythe felt herself tragically bonded to him through their mutual grief in that moment. She knew verbal condolences would offer little comfort as they never had for her, so she didn’t bother with them. Instead, she shuffled down the rocks until she was close enough to touch and didn’t wait to see if he would retreat. She reached a hand over and placed it on top of his. To her surprise, Nik twisted his wrist and reached his other arm over to encase her small hand between his calloused palms. A burst of warmth shot through her chest at the acceptance, and they sat like that in comfortable silence. It was never awkward; they simply tuned in to the quiet murmur of the woods, content at having company nearby.

  Then his voice broke her mindless thoughts. “Your conscious abilities seem to surface when something’s being projected at you or when your own emotions are running too high,” he pondered and looked at her. “You need to find the focus to block yourself from hearing loud thoughts in passing and the discipline to reach into a person’s mind and find information at your own will.”

  “You make it sound like choosing to sleep or stay awake.”

  He gave a soft laugh. “I would imagine it’s similar, actually. At least to your Nightwalking.”

  She winced. “I haven’t even tried to do that yet…knowingly.”

  “You have to try. Pick someone who won’t make you feel as guilty as you feel doing it to your friend.”

  She was beginning to wonder if Nik was a conscious mind reader himself with how often he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I’ll try,” was all she said.

  His eyes met hers, and she found herself being swallowed by the emerald pools.

  “What do you want, Faythe?”

  A provocative question. From his teasing grin, she knew he was projecting it to her on purpose. Hearing her name in his voice inside her head sent a ripple down her spine. She refused to let it show, but she also couldn’t bring herself to look away.

  “You need only ask,” he whispered seductively in her mind.

  Gods, she could even hear his change in volume. It sent a pulse through her as if she were feeling his breath on her ear even though he kept his distance.

  “Stop that,” she hissed, ripping her hand out of his as her cheeks flushed red.

  He chuckled. “I’m just testing your abilities.” From the way his pupils darkened, she had no doubt he could hear the increased tempo of her heart; could possibly even smell the effect it had on her with his fae senses. “Though that’s with me trying. Now, you try. I’ll let you past my barriers just enough to test the theory.”

  She stared at him in horror. Did he really trust her enough to let her go poking around in his head?

  Reading her expression, he said, “Don’t worry, I have every control over my mental walls. You’ll only be able to see the things I let you.”

  Right. Of course he wouldn’t offer himself as a test host if she could rifle through any of his thoughts and memories. She took a wary breath, straightening before focusing her eyes fully on his. She pictured what his walls would look like; imagined his black-and-gray smoke like that in his subconscious. Then, as she pierced past the deep green of his eyes, she found herself arriving at a thick black veil, which she somehow knew was the entrance to his mind. She gasped a little at the strange feeling.

  “Good. I can feel you,” she heard faintly, but his voice was a background blur like the rest of the woods as she honed in on the image of his mind. It felt like being in two places at once.

  The wall was solid, but then she felt a small crack open up and slipped inside. It was pitch-black until color soon appeared in a blur of rainbow hues and a scene unfolded around her. She was looking at herself through waves of spitting amber fire, and she was dancing. His memory of the summer solstice, she realized. When she locked eyes with herself at the end of the song, her heart skipped. But was that Nik’s heart she was feeling? He walked around the fire with eyes fixed on her as she walked—more like swayed—away from him to find Jakon. She felt something else. Curiosity? At the man who held Faythe from falling. When she was sitting by herself, Jakon having gone to get her water, Nik started his walk toward her. When he got closer, she s
tood up, yet to notice him as his eyes grazed over her, appreciating the effort she’d made for the event. She could hear his one thought in that moment: Beautiful.

  Faythe pulled herself from the memory and focused once again on the green eyes and surrounding noise of the woods. She averted her gaze immediately, cheeks aflame.

  “What?” he asked innocently.

  She glared at him. “You know what. Why did you choose to show me that?”

  “Just in case not enough people told you how wonderful you looked that night,” he teased, and the heat on her face reached boiling point. His eyes twinkled in amusement before he asked, “What was it like?”

  “It felt like I was you, obviously.”

  He cocked his head. “It’s not obvious though.” He looked ahead, brow creased in thought. “When we Nightwalk, we don’t see through the host’s eyes; we shadow them through their memories. Most with the ability don’t usually know emotion unless it’s relevant information, and even then, memories don’t always capture true feelings.” Another contemplative pause. “Your reach far surpasses the typical Nightwalking ability to be able to shadow and embody the host. With training, you might be able to know what a person is thinking and feeling in real time, not only in memories. You could maybe even alter thoughts in real time too.” Faythe paled, and he quickly added, “Only if you choose to, of course. You’ve gone this long without knowing what kind of power you have, so you only need to train your mind to enter another’s at will.”

  “Is that all?” she said sarcastically at the wave of new information.

  He gave her a look of understanding. “It may seem like a lot, but it will become as easy as breathing. Trust me.”

  She did trust him. She trusted him to help her, and she knew that with his guidance, she might one day be able to master both sides of her ability. Never in her lifetime did she imagine she would be putting her trust—and her life, in some ways—in a centuries-old fae warrior. But Nik was different. He was good.