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

by C.C. Peñaranda

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.”

I thought I saw things that were never there—hatred and disgust. I was different, and I was almost ready to bow down to that fact and accept it was all I would ever be. Different and unworthy.” He took a pause, and hesitation flinched his brow. Faythe kept still and patient though her heart was splintering. “I guess I’m telling you this because I know how it feels…to think you’re a burden and unwanted, even to the people who are close to you. It’s like we always feel as if we have something to prove—to others, to ourselves—perhaps in a longing that our twisted existence will count for something in this world.”

“Your differences only make you weak if you let them, Faythe. It’s when you embrace them that you start to live the life you were meant to lead. Not everyone has that strength.”

“I believe that you do, but let me tell you, it’s easy to push away those who are there for you. It takes strength to accept help and even more to ask for it.”

“Listen to me, Faythe. You are far stronger than the king could ever prepare for. He cannot break you. You bow to no one, submit to no one. You are a fighter. You always have been. Remember your golden heart within, because I will. Those who matter will always remember you for who you are, not what you’ve done.”

“It is my pleasure to welcome you all to High Farrow. I look forward to our meetings this week to further secure our defenses and strengthen our alliance. I trust your stay will be comfortable as we have spared no expense or luxury. My home is yours.” King Orlon raised his glass, and the other courts followed suit, toasting his words. As she looked at her king, Faythe’s brow raised in a shallow curve at his friendly demeanor. It was completely foreign to her. He was either a spectacular actor, or perhaps Faythe was too quick in her judgment of him.

A wave of arms went up on each side of the table as everyone lifted their goblets in agreement. “As one, we will not fall,” the room echoed in a cheerful cry.

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. Marlowe chuckled softly beside him, witnessing the wonderfully unusual sight up front. A warm grin also spread across Jakon’s face. Hope. The sight offered hope.

“There are usually two types of people: those who fear power, and those who want power. We’re often judged by what we are rather than who we are.”

“Do you think it’ll ever end?” Faythe didn’t expect a realistic answer. Rather, she hoped for some insight from someone who was constantly on the front lines. “Everything has an end. It is both the most feared and most anticipated part. Variable, uncertain, unpredictable. There are two sides: those who are fighting to live, and those who are fighting to conquer. But who wants it more? Whoever can answer that has already lost the war.”

“All we can do is never surrender. Never bow to fear, never yield to odds, and always be ready. Until the end comes. I can’t soothe your worries with falsehoods. Hope is a sedation of fear; fairness is delusion against wrongdoing. Both make those on the right side feel as if they have the upper hand. Always see the enemy as equal as they have just as much desire to conquer as we do to survive.”

“Hope stops the spread of panic.”

War wouldn’t come, because it had never left. Reylan called it luck for her mortal lifespan to spare her from witnessing the pinnacle of death and carnage. For once, Faythe didn’t want that luck; she wanted to fight back. Even if it meant her end and the war’s end became one and the same.

“I do. And I’ve always believed Prince Nikalias will be the one to bring it about. I know he will restore the values of High Farrow. But the world calls for a different kind of savior. Someone with resilience and a strong mind. Someone with enough power to challenge, yet with a heart true enough not to be consumed by its darkness.” “You sound as if you know of such a person.” Caius’s smile widened as he said, “I think we both do.”

“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.”

“If it were me who was entertaining the prospect of ruling by her side, I would not be thinking of her crown and mine as different.” Tarly scoffed. “That is a fool’s romantic idealism.” “That,” Nik corrected calmly, “is how equal and fair leadership is formed.”

Nik loved her anger. Loved when she fought him, and when she defied him. When she didn’t hold back any emotion. He would always weather her storm no matter how destructive it could become.

“It was yours, Your Majesty. I believe you have a daughter, alive and in High Farrow.”

“But in that moment, I chose you, Tauria. For everything you’ve done for me, everything you are to me. I wanted desperately to aid Faythe, but I couldn’t until I knew you were safe. I couldn’t leave you. If I lost you, I don’t think I would survive it. I wouldn’t want to survive it.”

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

“Even the best warriors know when it’s time to stop fighting,” he said, but there was no lecture in the words. “Recognize your limits, learn to disperse your energy, or you’ll burn yourself out before you last five minutes on a battlefield.”

“If you’re looking for damsels to save, General, you’ll be greatly disappointed tonight.”

“I am always with you. Do not be afraid.”

“I’ve faced worse monsters, Faythe,” he said with an unexpected but soothing warmth. “Let me help with yours.”

“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.”

“You said my mother thought you could reverse the damage to my father. Can you still?” he asked, low and calm, swallowing the eruption of emotion it prickled his skin to withhold. The Spirit nodded, but not reassuringly. “I could. It would have been a simple reversal if I had the chance when your mother tried. But after all this time, his spirit would be broken. Everything he’s done under the influence would still burden his soul. He may very well beg for death as soon as I gave him his free will back.”

“Who commands his will?” It was the killer question. He’d become too consumed by his own grief and anger to even consider the master evil that held more influence than they could have possibly imagined. Nik assumed it was Valgard, their returned-from-the-dead High Lord Mordecai. But Aurialis came out with a different name—one no one in the room could have come remotely close to uttering. “Marvellas.”

Now, it took on a whole new meaning with the unfathomable revelation the Spirit of Souls was the evil at large, puppeteering the kingdoms against each other. With every evil born, a way to destroy it is conceived in turn.

Faythe asked desperately, “How do I stop her?” “First, you must stop the King of High Farrow,” Aurialis answered sadly. “He must never get his hands on the Riscillius, Faythe. He cannot get to the other ruins, or all will be lost if they reach Marvellas.”

“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.”

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.

Reylan shook his head. 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.

“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.”

Together, they stepped out of the shadows, out of hiding, and out of safety. Hands intertwined, they walked straight into the open arms of the enemy.

“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.

“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.”

“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.

“Let me tell you something, Faythe. This idea you’ve created that your worth is somehow merited by your blood is wrong.” A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Who you are, who you become—that’s all on you and what you choose to make of the life you’ve been given. Don’t make yours a waste. Don’t throw away your chance to live beyond merely existing.”

This is your destiny, Faythe. Whatever land or sea stretches between us can always be traveled. We will always make our way back to each other.”

This was her choice. She was no longer tethered here by a wicked king or spirit-bound to the Eternal Woods. Her heart beat full and free as she realized her life belonged all to her once again. She would be no one’s burden but her own. The door to Faythe’s cage had been opened, and now all she had to do was dare to fly free.

“When you go to Rhyenelle, there will be those who will try to look down on you, Faythe. Always give them no choice but to look up.”

“I promise to stand by you, Faythe Ashfyre. This day, until the end of days.”