An Heir Comes to Rise

by C. C. Peñaranda

  His hands trailed over her bare waist below her bandages, and his touch soothed the pain in her heart just for a moment. When she leaned back to look at him, she traced the contours of his face with her fingers. Over his jaw, then his nose, then his mouth, trying to memorize every detail if this was the last time she would ever see him.

  She leaned up to kiss him fiercely, and he responded with aching tenderness. Her body caught fire everywhere he touched as his hands roamed her exposed skin, painfully delicate to be cautious of her injuries. But she didn’t want gentle and didn’t care if her body protested as she pressed herself to him. A quiet sound came from her, and he leaned down, hooking his hands under her thighs and lifting her so she didn’t have to strain on her toes to kiss him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and could have exploded from the new angle, which offered her better access to his mouth. His hands at the tops of her thighs made her wild with desire. While she wanted him—all of him—she knew giving over to her desperate impulse would only make their parting all the more gut-wrenching.

  Before things could get too heated, the kiss slowed, turning devastatingly tender. His lips left hers, and he kissed her neck—sweetly, not lustfully. He seemed to be savoring the smell and feel of her. Then he set her gently back on her feet and stared at her while he stroked her bruised cheek.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Faythe whispered, not trusting her voice to sound steady.

  He gave her a sad smile. “There will never be another like you, Faythe. Human, fae, highborn, commoner… Never another soul like yours.”

  She knew the comment had nothing to do with their personal relationship, and the words broke and fixed her at the same time. She didn’t have the expression to respond, so she only leaned into him once more, suddenly aware of the cold draft around the hut as his warmth encased her in its net of safety.

  They held each other for the last time. Neither had it in them to say a formal goodbye, so, with a final lingering kiss, Nik left without glancing back.

  Faythe fell apart the moment the door clicked shut behind him.

  Chapter 44

  They spent the following day gathering provisions for their journey. Only what was necessary—the rest they could buy on the road and once they got to safety in Rhyenelle.

  Jakon had been on edge all day, re-checking everything and going over every detail of the plan more than four times already. It hurt Faythe to see him so worked up, but there was nothing she could do to persuade him to change his mind.

  Marlowe had been at her cottage all day, assembling what she needed and spending the last of her time with her father. The fact she would be leaving family behind pained Faythe the most, but, like Jakon, Marlowe was adamant she would be joining them.

  Faythe spent the whole day in a quiet pit of despair at what she would be leaving—who she would be leaving. She would not get to see Nik again, not in her mind or his, before she left since the drops had done their work last night and sent her straight into a dark sleep without even a flash of her gold mist. They would do the same tonight also.

  Jakon had left her to her brooding, figuring she wouldn’t be much help in the planning of things anyway. She had sat in her bed most of the day, reflecting on her life in High Farrow that was about to come to an end.

  She was watching the dusk fall through the small square window when Jakon finally joined her in the bedroom. He sighed sadly upon seeing her.

  “You’ve always longed for adventure. Try to see the bright side.” He offered a comforting smile.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to even force one back. He was right: it would be a new beginning and offered an opportunity for them to see more of Ungardia. Who knew what she might discover in Rhyenelle? She only hoped it would be completely mundane, and her dealings with the Spirits and malicious fae captains would be over.

  She shuddered when the encounter with Aurialis crossed her mind. She would never get to see the Goddess again. Whatever she thought Faythe was needed for, she’d have to find another suitor, and the answers to Faythe’s burning questions about her heritage might forever remain lost.

  She reached over to the table to grab the last of the drops, eager to get the final night over with and start their journey by twilight tomorrow.

  A loud banging out front made her jolt, and she almost knocked the glass bottle right off the nightstand.

  Jakon frowned, turning to leave the bedroom. Faythe shot up too as the frantic banging continued and her heart started to race. She grabbed Jakon’s elbow.

  “What if it’s him?” she whispered in cold panic.

  She didn’t have to say his name for Jakon to gather she meant Captain Varis. His eyes widened at the possibility, and he scanned the hut wildly for a plan, but they both knew the only way out was the front door.

  She was about to scramble to find a hiding spot when a voice called through the wood.

  “It’s me, Jakon, please!”

  Faythe recognized the voice but couldn’t put a face to it. Jakon, on the other hand, went wide-eyed in fear as he ran the few paces to the door, swinging it open. Dalton came into view, and Jakon quickly scanned behind him before nodding him inside.

  “Where’s Marlowe?” he asked desperately.

  Dalton panted heavily. He was unfit at the best of times and appeared as if he had more or less run the distance across town to be here. Faythe began to tremble in anticipation.

  “She—they…came…and—” The man could barely get out the words.

  Jakon grabbed him by the collar to keep him upright as he gasped for air. “Where is she, Dalton?” he pressed urgently. Faythe had never heard such dread in her friend’s voice, and it made her sway in dizzy suspense.

  Dalton finally caught enough breath, and his next words brought the world down on her. “Guards took her, said it was for treason, but she would never—”

  Jakon released him and took a step back in horror. He looked to Faythe.

  “It’s a message,” she choked out. “He couldn’t find me through my head, so he went for hers.” The final dawning came out in hushed terror. “He took her because he found out it would hurt more than anything he could do to me physically.”

  The realization crippled her. She looked between the two horrified men, completely at a loss for what to do. Captain Varis would have taken Marlowe to where all those detained for judgment ended up: the castle prison. She refused to accept there was no saving her friend, and Faythe knew exactly how she would gain access past the wall to pledge for her life.

  She had already been briefed by Ferris on a sure path through. It was unpatrolled; a secret labyrinth that tunneled through the inner city. The redheaded deviant was many distasteful things, but she thanked the Spirits for his cunning brilliance in that moment. This was a route used by very few in the know to smuggle unsavory and often unlawful items into the city, right under the king’s nose.

  Faythe twisted, heading into the bedroom without another word. Everything around her went still as she fell into a cool, calculating calm. Her eyes flashed to her empty cot, and she contemplated contacting Nik. He was in the royal guard and could at least ensure Marlowe stayed alive long enough for Faythe to infiltrate the castle and gain an audience with the king to beg for her release. But she had nothing to send her into a quick sleep that would awaken her Nightwalking ability, and there was no guarantee Nik was even asleep himself. The night was still young. Every minute that ticked by was too precious to risk.

  No—she didn’t have time to attempt a message to him that way. Her rage was a storm of fire and ice under her skin. If the captain wanted Faythe, he would damn well get her.

  And my dagger won’t halt before slitting his throat if given a second chance.

  She stripped down, changing swiftly into her suit as it would allow for the best movement in her task. She tried to make herself numb to the painful aches of her body from the brutal beating yesterday, but she had to clench her teeth to keep from hissing at the sharp stabbing in her
ribs and thigh especially. Jakon’s presence behind her was noted, but she paid him no attention. She was fully changed and braiding her hair back in record speed.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  She strapped Lumarias around her hips and equipped her dagger in a few swift movements, charging back out of the bedroom. “I’m going to get her out.” Faythe swung her cloak on and was pulling up her hood when Jakon caught her elbow. She almost snarled at his move to delay her. Every ounce of kindness and mercy had left her moments ago.

  “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” he hissed.

  “There’s a way into the city—underground,” she said quickly. “I would ask you to stay, but I know you’re not going to, so don’t slow me down.” She ripped her arm from his grasp and didn’t wait for his response or for him to equip his own sword and cloak.

  Faythe glided back into the main room and stopped just for a second to rest a hand on Dalton’s shoulder. “Go home. We’ll bring her back, I promise,” Faythe said as confidently as she could though her own uncertainties threatened her calm demeanor.

  Then she left the hut, intending to walk straight into the trap the captain had laid and bring the hunter down with her.

  Chapter 45

  Waves thrashed violently against the jagged rocks Faythe and Jakon clung to in desperation. The entrance to the tunnels was far away from the town dwellings, on the opposite side of the great inner-city wall, at the edge of the kingdom by the wicked Black Sea.

  There was a far easier way into the large cave that began the underground labyrinth into the city, other than the completely insane route Faythe had taken them on that had them putting their lives at risk. But when they stopped to scan the footpath Ferris had pinpointed, she immediately spotted the fae halfway down the road and was forced to retreat. They weren’t uniformed guards; they appeared to be some of the rookies Ferris had warned her about.

  The only alternative route had been to scale the deadly, steep, and nauseatingly high coastline. Any other day, Faythe would have shut down the impossible idea, but with Marlowe’s life on the line, all logical thought had left her.

  Clawing over the next uneven bulge in the wall, her gloved fingers ached hideously with the iron grip she held at all times. She cautiously shuffled her way across the next relatively flat side. It was made all the more difficult by her already injured body, but the bitter-cold wind helped to numb the stabbing in her chest with every movement. More than once, her foot or hand slipped slightly against the slime and dampness of the sea-battered rocks, and each time, her heart leapt in her throat. Adrenaline kept her moving. To let clumsy, misjudged footing end her life to the monstrous sea below would be embarrassingly tragic now.

  Finally, Faythe hauled herself high enough that she was able to peek over the edge and check the entrance straight ahead.

  Clear! Thank the Spirits.

  No fae lingered around the mouth of the cave. She whipped her head down in a surge of panic but let it go the moment she spied Jakon—as safe as he could be with the waves that crashed higher each time as if desperate to claim his body in their black waters. She shuddered violently at the thought.

  Taking the final stretch upward to level with her, Jakon also halted to investigate the area of solid ground. “How the Nether-damned did you find this?” His voice was barely audible against the howling wind and storm below.

  Knowing Ferris’s name had become something of a trigger for Jakon’s violence, Faythe didn’t answer. Instead, she steadily maneuvered her footing, bracing her arms and pulling herself up and over to lie flat against the oddly comforting firm ground. Jakon copied her, and they both stayed down, her heart galloping now they were semi-exposed and at greater risk of being caught. They still had bush cover, but in the autumn they had shed their leaves and offered little hiding.

  Faythe commando-crawled forward on her forearms until she came to the edge of the bushes. When no lingering fae came into view, she sagged a little in relief.

  A torch flickered in its hold outside the cave, burning a vibrant blue instead of amber. She didn’t have time to admire the wonders of the magick that made it so, only noted it as an indication that the labyrinth was indeed in use tonight.

  They would have to be vigilant inside.

  She jumped into a crouch, every sense on high alert, before slowly rising to her full height. She was terrified as she stared into the black void of the cave mouth. The unknown dwelled inside. They had no map other than Ferris’s vague description of what to expect and where to turn. She only prayed her recall of his directions wouldn’t turn up blank when it mattered most.

  Faythe felt a hand graze her lower back and jerked hard in fear, her hand shooting to her side for Lumarias. Her eyes fell on Jakon, and she winced, muttering an apology when he recoiled.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked worriedly. She knew he wouldn’t hold any judgement if she cowered out. In fact, he would likely be relieved more than anything if she decided against the brash plan.

  “I don’t have a choice,” she muttered. The captain’s fight was with her, and she’d be damned if she let Marlowe’s life end as collateral in the battle between them.

  Jakon gave her a weak smile in understanding, and she couldn’t help but fall into his arms at his look of sadness and uncertainty. He held her tight, and she let all her fear and crippling worry go numb in his embrace, absorbing his fierce courage instead for the dangerous path ahead.

  When they released each other, they exchanged one last look of affirmation. Then they turned and didn’t falter a step as they stalked to the entrance of the cave.

  Jakon swiped the torch outside—smart, as they would have little chance of finding their way in the pitch-black inside. Without the bitter, whistling wind, only two sounds remained: the thrum of her own heart, and the slight shuffling of their boots against the grain of the cave floor. Not even the glowing blue flame uttered a single crackle. It allowed Faythe to tune her hearing in to anything outside of those two noises.

  They followed a long, straight path for a minute, and she felt the walls closing in as the passage narrowed the farther they ventured into the belly of the cave. It made her breathing turn ragged; arose her fear of confinement in the underground space. She flexed her fists to distract herself.

  After another painstaking stretch of passage, they came to a junction. It was time for Faythe to wrack her brain for Ferris’s instructions, but in her wild frenzy of thoughts and emotions, the sequence of left and right paths they had to take to end up at the castle became a disarray of blurred lines.

  “I think it’s that one,” she said shakily, pointing to the right. She wouldn’t tell Jakon she wasn’t entirely sure but was rather following her gut.

  He didn’t seem inclined to question it, which dropped guilt in her stomach that he was blindly putting his trust in her to guide them through the maze of mud and stone.

  Hopefully, there aren’t any ghoulish creatures lurking that Ferris failed to mention…

  A sharp tremor rattled down her spine. Jakon pressed forward, and with a deep inhale to soothe her rising doubts, she followed after him. Faythe walked close to his side, almost glued to him, as if he might be snatched away from her by the shadows—or she from him. She was selfishly glad for her friend’s presence; her fear might very well consume her if she attempted the venture alone.

  They walked straight for a few more arduous minutes, and Faythe knew the prestigious inner city would be alive above them by now. She tried not to dwell on the nerve-wracking fact. They came to two more crossroads. Each time, Faythe chose on impulse which path to take, not allowing herself time to debate her decisions. But it wasn’t her strained hearing that was alerted first; it was her sight, picking up a faint glow in the far distance.

  Could it be a way out?

  Her hope was short-lived when the light expanded, revealing an intersection at the bottom of the passage. Her hand lashed out to grab Jakon’s arm, and they bo
th halted in cold horror.

  They weren’t alone.

  Jakon looked to her, wide-eyed, and it was the last thing she saw before he threw the torch to the ground and tried to snuff out the blue flame. No matter how much dirt he shuffled over it, however, the fire still burned bright.

  Faythe’s pulse turned erratic when she picked up on voices growing louder with each passing second. The blue flame had been conjured from magick; it was logical to assume it could only be extinguished by it too. Gripping Jakon harder, she pulled him with her as she silently jogged back into the pitch-blackness, away from the torch light.

  Their company was too close for them to retreat the whole way back without making a noise. They would have to hope they could hold the element of surprise long enough to attempt an ambush. Faythe stayed deathly still, pressing her whole form hard against the freezing wall as if it could swallow her whole and save her from the impending confrontation. She freed Lumarias—slowly, silently. Jakon stood against the opposite wall.

  More than one voice echoed, louder now. They would need both angles to stand a chance. Though if the oncoming voices belonged to the fae, Faythe doubted any weapon, attack, or position could save them.

  She didn’t let the fact cripple her internally. They couldn’t fail—not when they hadn’t even made it to the city streets above.

  She turned her head to watch the shadowed forms grow larger, their distorted bodies like wraiths filling the bottom of the intersection. Unable to balance her breathing with the racing of her heart, Faythe felt dizzy under the weight of danger.

  Then shadows were made flesh when the figures rounded the corner toward them. They each held a torch of blazing amber. With their faces illuminated, the first thing Faythe identified almost made her sigh out loud in shock and relief.

  Humans!

  “That pompous bastard! Making us trek all the way here and not show!” one man cried. He had a short, lanky stature. Faythe had already picked him for herself as he was conveniently on her side anyway.