A Queen Comes to Power (An Heir Comes to Rise #2)

by C.C. Peñaranda

Most people would glimpse the blacksmith and fear her for the deadly blades she could craft from blunt steel. Nik knew the real weapons that made her a force to be reckoned with were the books she absorbed, the knowledge she tucked away in every corner of her arsenal. Words, when crafted artfully, could cut deeper than any blade and imprint on one’s soul for eternity. To inspire or to torment—that depended on the will of the speaker.

“Only darkness and light remains,”

“They are a great weapon, but not all have turned hearts. They will bring darkness, and they will bring salvation.”

“He is but another puppet.” She turned to him, and Nik blanched as Aurialis addressed him directly. “It was not your father who locked away my ruin in a place where it could not be stumbled upon.” His blood pounded. “It was your mother.”

“The temple ruins possess great power on their own, but it is the joining of the three that makes up the Tripartite that must never come to pass in the wrong hands.”

With every evil born, a way to destroy it is conceived in turn.

“You will distance yourself from her,” he warned, low, dark, and calm, stopping deliberately close to Varis.

“You don’t speak her name. You don’t cross her path. And if you dare raise a hand to her again, you’ll find yourself without it…perhaps without a life, depending on Faythe’s mercy.”

“He’s nothing but a spineless coward who takes pleasure in dominating those he believes to be inferior.” Reylan caught her arm to halt her just before she made it to the door. “But you’re not inferior to anyone, Faythe. Your strength is within, and your weapon is internal. It’s his biggest mistake to underestimate you.”

Reylan always carried himself coolly, collectedly, as if nothing fazed him. Seeing the flash of fury crease his usual stern indifference—it turned him into a whole new force to reckon with, a threat no man or fae would dare to cross or challenge. Despite this, Faythe wasn’t afraid. She didn’t think she could ever be truly fearful of him.

Reylan was too low on energy to object and eager to get the prince to leave as soon as possible so he could have some solitude. He wanted to give in to the torture of silence that fed on his anger and indignation.

It had been far too long since Reylan last allowed himself to be so bothered by someone else. What Faythe did, what she thought, what she felt—he was tormented by it all. He shouldn’t concern himself with her beyond his duty to ensure she stayed alive; should instead leave her alone as she wished. Yet he had allowed himself to tangle his long-dormant feelings with her. Feelings of care. So slowly, since the day he laid eyes on those golden irises he didn’t even know, until it became too late. He couldn’t turn his back on her now.

“I came back for her.”

He profusely objected to being sent back north. Yet now, somewhere along the line of duty, he had come to care for Faythe. Torturously. He was a fool. Though he would never admit that to Nik—perhaps not to anyone, ever—when it had taken so long for him to realize it within himself.

“You may not have met her in person as her time at court spanned less than a decade, but her name was common gossip across the kingdoms. Lilianna Aklinsera, the human woman…who stole the heart of a great fae king.” Reylan held his breath. Then he saw the exact moment in the prince’s emerald eyes that he grasped the truth. The world-shifting truth that fell like a weight on Nik who took a step back as if he’d been dealt a physical blow.

CHILLS

“Please.” It slipped from Reylan’s mouth, the word he so very rarely had to use.

Faythe’s walls were solid. Her incessant need to protect those around her kept her worries and burdens on the side no one could penetrate. The way through was not to take a hammer to the barrier she’d so expertly crafted, brick by brick, her whole life; it was through patience and persistence without force, to get her to open the door she didn’t know she’d attached to it.

relatable

“I’ll see you at the ball, and I’ll have what you asked for from Marlowe. But Faythe, if we lose you, we lose all hope of that brighter future.”

Wood chips carved of self-resentment and sorrow surrounded her.

He wanted to kill them all, every guard, and even the king who sought to harm Faythe. His friend, his soul mate—he refused to believe there was a chance he may never see her again.

The deep red with gold accents reminded her of fire. Gave her fire.

oh gee like her heritage lololol

Faythe didn’t want to blend in tonight. She wanted for the king to see her and to be heard…one last time.

“I won’t force her here. She has a life in High Farrow. How can I take that from her?”

He had to wonder about the talent of High Farrow’s suitors to have so many attempting to engage with the most deterring face in the room.

She was fire and ice and all destructive contrasts, much like the storm that stirred inside him at the sight. She was not a human citizen of High Farrow; she was not Orlon’s spymaster… Tonight, she was Rhyenelle’s daughter. And the gut-wrenching irony was that she didn’t even realize it.

Tenderly, the arm that held her pulled her to him so there was no space between the spymaster and the general. She couldn’t ignore the warmth in her chest at the movement and relaxed in the invisible shield of safety she always felt when she was close to him.

Her heart skipped a beat at the look in his eye, but she couldn’t quite be sure what it was. Not lust or love. Not admiration or appreciation. Something…more. And it sparked dying embers inside her.

“Blue drowns you, but you’ve never looked more alive in red. You woke every dreary face in this room the moment you stepped out here tonight.”

When Reylan looked at her, it was as if he could see right down to the very core of her soul, and he didn’t shy from everything she was and all that she wasn’t. Feeling so exposed through a mere look should have left her recoiling, but instead, she held onto those sapphires. Held them as if they were her anchor to this world.

“It has nothing to do with the shape of your ears. They see you, Faythe. I see you…and I hear you.”

She was not alone. Never alone.

He can’t stand to lose what he never gained, and what he gains will end his reign.

“Marlowe Connaise,”—his thumb brushed over her cheek—“a simple endeavor to commission a sword brought me to you, and from that first day, you had me. Your infectious wonder, your selfless heart, your incredible mind… I fall for every piece of you harder every day. When we come out of this, I promise to always be yours. And I want everyone to know you will always be mine, as Marlowe Kilnight. There is not a day I want to imagine without you by my side.”

“Your timing is awful,” she breathed in a short, nervous laugh. “Yes, Jakon, I will take your name. From that first day, you had me too. I am yours, and you are mine. Until the end claims us.”

“Until the end claims us,”

He was stronger than she right now, so she let him go—the darkness facing off with the light in a dance of storms.

A life without love was to live in darkness without a glimmer of light. An existence with nothing to lose.

“It is not I who have failed this kingdom and its subjects. It is you and your will to stop at nothing to gain more power. Even risking the lives of innocents, those you swore to protect. High Farrow soldiers didn’t put their heart into training to be led into a battle that will break an alliance built to protect us all against the real enemy. I will not allow them to bleed for tyranny, nor die for greed.” Nik’s words resonated throughout the great hall, striking the hearts of every fae as he spoke like a leader. Like a king.

“Rhyenelle is your ally. They helped you when you stood to lose everything in the Great Battles. To turn on them now for personal vengeance is despicable.” She seethed. It should have been her head in an instant to speak to a royal in such a manner. Yet in his eye, for a split second, Faythe swore she saw a hint of regret.

Faythe watched the white Griffin carved into the pommel of the Farrow Sword cry loudly in flight as it was pulled free from its scabbard.

“I’ve got you. I am with you. Always. Don’t stop looking at me.”

The tears in her eyes lapped waves over the sun that was devoured in her irises.

“You came back,” she said through a short breath. He broke at the disbelief in her voice, smoothing his palm over the hair at her nape. “I never left.”

“No, it shouldn’t have been. Make this world the one we all dream of. Make it rise.” His breath spluttered, and he rasped, “Make it rise from the ashes, Faythe.”

Reylan looked up, stunned by what he saw. It started with the guards in royal blue—Caius’s companion soldiers. One by one, they dropped to a knee, heads bowing low in grief for their fallen comrade. But it didn’t stop with High Farrow. The kings stayed standing, but behind them, waves of deep purple and crimson joined them to pay tribute. In mutual loss. As allies. The battle between their kings didn’t change the righteousness in their hearts.

Reylan should have stopped her before she could continue, knowing she was about to address the kings in a manner that would warrant her execution. Yet she had every right to direct her hostility their way as it had resulted in the death of an innocent. A friend. He knew then he would stand by her side if any of them, including his own king, thought to punish her for it.

“She is her mother’s daughter.” Agalhor stared wide-eyed at Faythe. The uncanny resemblance was enough to erase any doubt about who she was. It wasn’t only her mother she took after in appearance. “My daughter,” he little more than whispered.

“I can’t tell you what to do, but I knew your mother, Lilianna. She was Rhyenelle’s queen even without the marriage to Agalhor. Not because of what she was to him, but because of her love and devotion to the kingdom and its people. She knew where she belonged.” Reylan burned as bright as the Phoenix of the kingdom he spoke of with such passion. He looked to her with that fierce fire in his eyes, so intense she felt it like heat on her skin, igniting within. “When you figure that out, Faythe Ashfyre, we’ll be waiting for you.”

Loss was an eternal shadow. It had clung to her since her mother’s passing and thickened the moment the light in Caius’s eyes went out. It wouldn’t diffuse with time; it couldn’t be banished with happiness. But it could ease with acceptance, just enough for those still living to bear the passing seasons for however many years they had left in this world. Death was a force that could not be fought, and time was its cunning accomplice. For nothing could prevent death’s claim once it sank its claws, and no amount of time could erase the pain it left behind.

Whatever land or sea stretches between us can always be traveled. We will always make our way back to each other.”