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

by C.C. Peñaranda

“You make it impossible not to love you,” he said quietly. Though it wasn’t a comment made about a romantic feeling, it warmed her all the same. “I’m not sure everyone shares your view.” “Those who matter do.”

“Over time, these abilities manifested, spread, and strengthened. But they also weakened through crossed bloodlines. It was the work of the Spirit of Souls, Marvellas, to make sure those of equal power found each other and always kept their abilities thriving.

“When Marvellas left her sacred duty a thousand years ago, those souls wouldn’t always find each other, which resulted in diluted power. The fae people came to call those who did connect ‘mates.’ Even those without an ability have an energy within that longs to be matched. Not just a romantic pairing, not just love—those who connect with their mate, their equal, continue to strengthen their bloodlines as well as each other.”

Her assailant spoke—words she would never forget in her lifetime. “If you’re smart, you’ll get on that horse, ride far, and won’t look back for one second.” A feminine voice, as unexpected as the mercy she offered. One of the enemy, yet she chose to spare her life. Whether she knew her to be the princess or not, Tauria would never be sure.

“It was not Valgard. The fae was a guard from Farrowhold.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Just like falling asleep,” she whispered. He matched her smile as if in thanks. It only tore her heart deeper. “I’m ready to go now.” The boy’s mother walked over to him, and they joined hands.

“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.”

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.

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.

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

“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.”

The first to arrive flew banners of deep purple with the sigil of a two-headed wolf. Olmstone.

Faythe didn’t know much about the history of the land mostly made of stone, except that it had lots of mountain ranges and little forestry.

While it was rumored to be a rural and peaceful kingdom, it was also said to be divided, with the western side of Olmston...

King Varlas Wolverlon of Olmstone.

“Of course. Queen Keira Wolverlon.”

She identified them by their dark crimson coats at first, which rushed like a red flood toward them. Then her eyes traveled up to find the flying banners with the sigil of Rhyenelle: the Phoenix firebird.

“General Reylan Arrowood, famous white lion of the south. Of course Agalhor would only send his best. I don’t think I’ve seen you since the Great Battles that earned you your name.”

The general cast a half-smile back at the king, though Faythe gauged it was more as a formality than from any genuine friendliness. Then, as if he knew exactly where she stood, the general’s eyes slid sideward to lock directly on her.

Olmstone had an earthy appeal with their stonelike textures and tunics and dresses with straight-cut lines, while the Rhyenelle soldiers were clean-cut in crimson velvet textures that reminded Faythe of ash and fire, making them a dominant force in the room. High Farrow always favored flowing, light fabrics and detailed embroidery that mimicked the calm sea, and as for Tauria in Fenstead green, she radiated life and nature with the intricate patterns of her gown.

No—while she gazed at the Phoenix crest on the shoulder clasp of one of the accompanying Rhyenelle warriors, she saw the bird’s wings catching fire in blazing hues of orange and red as it poised to take flight.

Before she did, Faythe felt compelled to glance back once more, but she found the Phoenix emblem to be nothing more than an inanimate carving in solid brass.

“I have lots of time. Maybe we’ll get the chance to spend some of it together.” “I’m sure there are plenty of other ladies of the court who would be more than delighted to keep you company.” “And if I don’t want the company of any other ladies?” Faythe damned the Spirits to burn for the heat that flushed her cheeks and only hoped it wouldn’t be noticeable in the dull lighting. “Then the male guards are also at your disposal.”

“It’s not often I’m caught out by something unexpected,” he said, blade moving against his throat with every word. She wasn’t sure if it was a compliment. It was clear he was unfazed by her feeble threat, as though she were holding a spoon, not a blade, to his neck. She almost flashed her eyes down to check it wasn’t. “Unexpected. But foolish.” Before she could detect even a slight shift, Reylan moved faster than she could blink. One hand lashed out to grip the hand holding the blade, the other seized her loose wrist, and she was whirled around so fast her vision swayed when she stilled again. Her breathing was hard as she processed the maneuver, her back flush with his front where he pinned her arm across her abdomen.

When he got to the door, he paused in the frame before turning back. “How old are you?” She wasn’t sure why it mattered or would even slightly interest him. Not in the mood to string out another round of questions, she answered, “I just turned twenty.” His eyes narrowed a fraction, but she couldn’t read the expression that crossed his face at the knowledge.

The boy on Caius’s back was elated with his new means of transport, and the fae didn’t seem at all fazed when he fiddled with the points of his ears in curiosity.

“What about you?” “I’m going to try to divert them.” “And if they suspect you?” Caius shrugged casually, but his grin was confident. “Make sure my heroism is remembered, will you?”

Pls not him

“Just know she isn’t pleasant and content all the time like the front she’s forced this past week. While you have yet to see it, she is not idle, and she is certainly not silent.” “Am I supposed to be afraid of her?” Tarly sneered. Nik’s fist twitched tighter. That pretty face wouldn’t be so if he got his way. “No. Not afraid. But she is a queen, while you are still a prince. Don’t forget that. Even when you one day take your father’s throne, your crown and hers will never weigh the same.”

PERIOD NIK YUPPP

“We need to talk about Lilianna.” There was no answering his question without it. The new rosebud under the king’s fingers crushed together as his fist enclosed around it. Reylan swallowed hard. “I told you never to speak her name again.” Agalhor’s voice was low, lethal.

Agalhor hesitated as if he didn’t want to ask but needed the answer. “Did you…did you find her?” At the slight flicker of hope on his face, Reylan’s answering look became solemn. He shook his head. Agalhor’s expression fell, and he was about to turn away when Reylan blurted, “But I think I found her daughter.”

“When I got close enough to detect Lilianna’s scent, another scent was there. It was faint. Nobody else would sense it if they weren’t looking.” The king’s eyes alone pressed him to continue. Reylan paused, looking him dead in the eye as he delivered his final blow. “It was yours, Your Majesty. I believe you have a daughter, alive and in High Farrow.”

Then, straight through the warped, staggered trees in front, he swore he caught a movement that could have been mistaken for wind passing through the tree canopy. Except all he could think of were…wings. Wings, and a vibrant flicker of amethyst that pierced through the dark veil of gray and black.

Faythe stood outside her rooms after her short meeting with the king, staring directly at the door opposite.

She was glad there was no one around to notice her nervous pacing as she’d been deliberating knocking for the past five minutes.

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.”

“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.”

“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.

“Who did this to you?” His voice turned surprisingly dark, and she thought she detected anger in it.

HELP

“How does a human from High Farrow come to possess fae fighting attire from Rhyenelle?” he pondered curiously. Though he didn’t expect an answer, she said, “It was a gift.”

She waited for him to mock her, to say she wasn’t worthy of it. “It suits you,” he said, and she was surprised at the sincerity in his words. “Though it’s a little outdated. If you win, perhaps I’ll see to it you get an upgrade to the latest model.”

Reylan looked quietly taken aback by her swiftness. She almost dared to believe it was approval in his eyes. “Okay, Faythe, I see you.”

“You may have been born in High Farrow, but you will always fly with the Phoenix.”

“What a fate has been sculpted around you, child. Millennia come and go without such a soul coming into the world—one with the power to challenge evil, the spirit to change hearts, and the heart to move mountains. If you only dare to take the leap and trust you will fly with the Phoenix, of course.” “What does that mean?” Faythe snapped, a chill seeping over her skin. “It means there is so much for you to learn, golden-eyed child. One born with wings is never destined to remain caged.”

“It is not what you can give to me. It is what I must give to you.” Faythe stiffened in dreadful apprehension. “Give me…what?” The Dresair tilted its head in amusement as it observed her. “The only way to walk out with the ruin is to accept my knowledge. A dark piece of the future yet to pass.”

“In your quest to stop the King of High Farrow, one of those close to you will forfeit their life.”

“I heard you scream.”

He’d tried to coax something out of her, but even witty remarks failed to gain a reaction, and he dreaded to think what greeted her beyond the steel door none of them could pass. Well, anyone except Reylan, it seemed. At the sound of Faythe’s scream, Gods, he’d tried to force through the pain himself, but the stone rendered him completely incapacitated, and Tauria had swiftly pulled him back.

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.

“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.”