A Throne From the Ashes (An Heir Comes to Rise, #3)

by C.C. Peñaranda

“We must keep having faith, Lili,” he soothed. So gentle and kind. Hopeful. Words he had spoken to her a thousand times, always the one with so much determination they would conquer time.

“Say that again,” she murmured. His hands took her face, pride and love swirling in his hazel gaze, which she held, savoring and memorizing every highlight and hue. He leaned down to touch his lips to hers—a kiss so soft and barely-there. When he pulled back, his warm smile was heartbreaking. “Have faith we will find a way, my dear.”

Her heart swelled to the point she thought it might erupt. It didn’t matter—it would be left behind with him. But the word was like a song, a note of him she would carry with her for eternity. Lilianna echoed it after him as a promise, a gift he would never know he had given to their child when she left. “Keep having…Faythe.”

The scandalous gown she’d materialized herself in had also disappeared, and she stood in black leathers with silver accents matching the tone of her blood. The embellishments singled her out as the delegated leader of the Silverfairs, a position she’d rightfully won through strength and conquer in the Blood Trials over a century ago. Nothing was given among her kind; everything was earned.

Reylan had told Faythe of his ability before. He was a Shadowporter and could transport himself to a different location by the will of his shadows.

Oh god not anothed shadow daddy

“With you and Malin in each other’s company, I don’t think I can be off-duty.” “He’s no fool—hurting me would damage him more than anything.” Reylan smirked. “It’s not you I’d be concerned for.”

“Fear. So expertly hidden behind false confidence. A name is just a word, another mask. Without a crown, without that claim to the Ashfyre name, who are you?”

I didn’t come here to lay claim to a throne from name alone, but I also didn’t come all this way to deny my heritage. I may have come from nothing, but I will rise to everything.

“I’m thinking the white,” she pondered with scrutiny. When he didn’t respond, she slid her eyes to him, her smile turning into a grin. “You’re blushing, General! Have you never seen a woman’s lacy wears before?” Reylan scowled at her, which only added to her growing amusement. Faythe rolled her eyes playfully, turning to leave. “Men never do care… I don’t know why we bother.” “The red.”

“That’s why I came back, actually,” he interjected at the mention of Nik.

... Uh oh

“I knew you were looking for me,” he said and smirked at her incredulous look. “But I wanted to see if you’d attempt the shot when you thought no one was watching.”

“What are you all waiting for? To see if I’ll concede and run home?” Kyleer shook his head, eyes softening as he said, “You are home.”

“It will be dangerous. The Black Sea is notorious for pirates and harsh weather. As your friend, and for Faythe, I would never ask this of you.” Nik straightened, his pained face wiped of all emotion. “But as your king, I trust you, Jakon. As my emissary you have proven your dedication and loyalty beyond doubt. You have ties here, and you have ties to the Heir of Rhyenelle. You are High Farrow’s best political candidate.”

All four masters were Silverfairs, first or second generation from the small band of dark fae that had avoided full annihilation millennia ago.

“Nothing could make me turn away from you, Reylan.”

Faythe already had her eyes blissfully closed and looked delicate, peaceful. He watched her breathing, transfixed by the rise and fall of her chest. As though it might still. As though the beat of her heart were tied to his own. Yet he didn’t fear it. Not in the slightest.

“When you spoke among the chaos of the High Farrow throne room and everyone listened, I saw her spirit in you then, and I saw myself too. Dear Faythe,”—he took a step toward her, and she didn’t flinch as his hand brushed her face—“I am so proud of the woman you have become despite all that was kept from you, and I know your mother is smiling at us now. We may not have the past to reflect on, but the present is all the brighter, the future all the more hopeful.”

“I definitely didn’t take you as one to read romance,”

“If you value your innocence, I’d be selective about which books you dive into from that particular row,”

“You’re to be a weapon in my arsenal, Amaya. Don’t mistake this as anything more than my doing what is necessary to keep you out of the hands of those who will attempt to dull the edge of your blade while I sharpen it.”

“In your quest to stop great evil, the one you are soul-bonded to shall lose their life by your hand, and yours alone, prince.”

“Faythe, whatever you’re planning, let me help,” he begged. She shook her head. “Marlowe knows. Tell her you saw me tonight and let her tell you everything. Everything I’m sorry I never got the chance to tell you myself. Nik—” She paused, choking on whatever her next sentence was meant to be. “Don’t do anything foolish. I’m coming with you. I’ll come to Rhyenelle—” “No.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you kneel before me.” “I’ll get on my knees for you anytime, Zaiana. You know you need only ask.”

“I want your fealty, not your disappointing bedroom favors.” “In the bedroom, I might just yield both.” “If you were the last male on the continent, our species would cease to exist with us.”

“Just like old times,” she responded. His grin was enticing. “I have missed this.” “Getting your ass handed to you?” “Watching you”—his eyes trailed her from head to toe—“become beautifully untamed.”

“Then you spoke—like a leader and a protector. A peacemaker. I saw a ruler worthy of being my successor.” Agalhor bowed his head to her. Bowed.

“She faces a great trial, and she will need us. Not to aid her in this quest, but to accept her when she returns.” Nik’s brow furrowed at the cryptic message. “Of course we will,” he all but snapped, knowing there was nothing that could make him turn his back on her. Marlowe’s smile was knowing but solemn. “She might not be the same as you once knew.”

“And I’ll never forget how every single protest and irritation dissolved the moment I saw you. Your gown was ridiculous, but the emerald color was so striking on you.” “You made fun of me the whole time,” she grumbled. “Young Nikalias was a menace.” A light chuckle left him. “Would you believe me if I said it was because I found you the most magnificent thing in that ballroom?” “Not for a second.” “Good. Because you were the most magnificent thing I’d ever seen at all.”

“I don’t know what they’ll offer you. I don’t know if I can compete. But what I promise you is that you will never need to commit yourself to marriage or surrender anything in return for High Farrow’s protection and allegiance. I will respect your choice and what you need to do for the good of your kingdom. But know, should you ever change your mind, you can always come home.”

“Until you do, I’m going to be thinking of all the shameful things I never got the chance to do to you right here.” He leaned into her further, and a breath left her as she clutched onto him tighter. “I’ll always be thinking of this. Of that look on your face. Of how I would have scattered everything on this desk to worship every inch of you over it. Of how beautifully you would have screamed for me.”

NIK????????

Reuben sat next to her,

Reuben is fucking sus hes on to something from that red head bitch

“You’ve let the win go to your head if you think I’ll submit to the same obedience as your dogs,” he rumbled, voice quiet but firm. “I will honor your victory, and by that I mean I will yield to you. But try to mock me, belittle me, in front of your underlings, and I think you’ll find yourself on a field where there are no rules and you might not emerge so triumphant.”

Then her eyes widened, following him as he dropped to one knee before her. Faythe’s breath hitched when his fingers grazed her upper thigh, working on the dagger sheath she’d been in the midst of securing. When he pulled to tighten the buckle, she jerked, her hand instinctively raising to his shoulder for balance. As it did, Reylan’s sparkling sapphire eyes flashed up to her through long lashes, and Spirits be damned, she hoped he didn’t detect the desire that flushed her body at his gaze.

“I don’t know what the future holds or where the path may end, but I plan to follow you down whatever perilous, reckless, adventurous road you lead, Faythe Ashfyre.”

“I vow to stand by your side. I vow to protect you with my sword and my life. And I vow to bind my fate to yours, if you will have me. I’ve lived enough years in this world to know should you leave it, so too shall my desire to stay here without you.”

“I’ve had a long time to think of every way I want to have you, Faythe.”

But what struck her the most were her eyes—the only inkling of color against the grim state of her. While they were dull, cold, and perhaps already dead, Zaiana imagined the faint amber to have once been an envious gold.

“It’s okay.” Nerida’s calm voice halted her. The human’s eyes slid to the fae. Her other gray, frail hand reached up, and she placed something in Nerida’s palm as she spoke. “Give this to the one with eyes like mine.” Her voice croaked. “To the one they call Faythe Ashfyre.” Zaiana stilled. The name chilled her even more than the first time she heard it. How this human knew of her was mystifying. “Tell her…tell her I knew her mother. And tell her…that I’m sorry.”

She didn’t realize she had moved against him again until Reylan stilled. His hands on her hips tightened to still her. “If you don’t stop that,” he ground out through a husky breath that blew across her collarbone, “I’m seconds away from damning to the Nether where we are and who might hear, and I’m taking you right now.”

“And let me tell you…this dresser will not hold.”

“That was the first time I nearly lost control with you. Perhaps the first time I really realized—” Reylan stopped himself. “What?” she pressed, her heart picking up tempo. “How much I wanted you,” he finished, though it felt like an amended answer.

Faythe’s hands curled over his at her face. “I know what a mate means to your people—” He kissed her. So soft and barely-there. Against her lips, he said, “You are my people.”

“You are so perfect, Faythe,” he groaned against her skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.”

“I will hear you ride your pleasure, unchecked and with my name on your tongue as you find your release, but tonight, you may want to be mindful of the others.”

“Why don’t you tell me which card to play, Faythe?” Her brow pinched. Seconds passed. Then ice doused her all at once and she turned completely rigid, spine straightening. She held his look, and his smile broadened to the other side as he knew she’d figured it out.

Despite not knowing his intentions yet, Faythe was determined not to yield to his unusual knowledge and grant him the upper hand. She decided to join the game. Carefully, she tested Gus’s mind for entry and found it wide-open. Her eyes dropped to the spread of cards in play on the table. She pondered for a few seconds, back and forth. “Red queen diamond,” she settled.

“What do you know of our gift?” “What I know is that you should not refer to hers and yours as one and the same.” “What do you mean?” “I mean what I said.”

“A miracle, Faythe. Not just an heir, but a true heir of Marvellas. One of only two to ever exist since she ascended near a thousand years ago.” Faythe blanched, heart racing and mouth drying out completely. “There was another like me?” Gus nodded. “I believe she lived near five hundred years ago. I cannot be certain what became of her. There are very few scriptures to still exist that mention anything to do with the Spirits, just as she intended, for it could work gravely against her plans if they fell into the wrong hands.”

“You’re expending yourself. Let me take care of this.” Faythe turned to him fully. “You cannot pick and choose when to stake your belief in me. I cannot choose. If I am to be Rhyenelle’s heir, this is it. Responsibility. No matter how harsh or burdensome it may be to accept.”

“You are nothing but a worthless, human bit—” Rezar choked on the word, cut off by the strike of an arrow piercing right through his chest from behind. The blood-coated iron tip protruded so close to his heart. Faythe glanced up in surprise, finding Reylan still expertly poised with the bow he’d released the shot from. His eyes were hard, livid. His chest rose and fell with the anger that steeled his expression into something frightening, fixed on the fae in front of him.