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

by C.C. Peñaranda

“That was impressive, Faythe.” “For a human?” she challenged. Kyleer’s brow curved with his mouth. “For anyone.”

A name is just a word, another mask. Without a crown, without that claim to the Ashfyre name, who are you?” She didn’t leave room for answer. “The difference between you and me is that I don’t need a name or a title or a damned thing to tell me who or what I am. 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. The greatest triumph will be having you there to bear witness as I do.”

“Malin will get what’s coming to him. Nether hath no fury like a pissed-off Faythe Ashfyre.”

“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.” His lips curled in tender amusement. “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.”

“Are you trying to entice me into staying alive?” He pulled back to look at her with a wicked smile. “Depends. Is it working?” Faythe bit her lip, which flared a hunger in his eyes. “Definitely,” she

“Until the end of days, Reylan Arrowood.” His smile—warm, genuine, and heartbreakingly rare—had become the light in her eternal shadow. “Maybe even longer, Faythe Ashfyre.”

“You are more than I could have wished for in this life, Faythe. And I know…I know you have it in you to change the world. Not with the power you wield or the crown that may befall you, but with that golden heart that sings in your chest. For what is good, for what is right, and for what is fair.” Faythe was transfixed by his fierce eyes. They struck her to listen; to absorb every word as though it were the truth. “But sometimes you have to fight fire with fire. Watch the world burn and then rise from the ashes.”

“I have more than everything I could have asked for in this life. I should be a better male. I shouldn’t be selfish and should let you go to find someone far more deserving of you,” he said fiercely. Faythe opened her mouth with a string of protest, but Reylan powered on. “As it turns out, I am not that male. I choose you, Faythe. I will always choose you. And I will always hope, as selfish as it may be, that you will choose me too.”

“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.”

“But I’ve come to realize tomorrow isn’t my promise to give. What I can promise…is me. Until the last tomorrow comes. I want you to know every broken piece of me belongs to you.”

“I was going to say I love you…”

“But it’s not enough. Not for what I feel for you.”

“You are my heart, Faythe Ashfyre. When you lose yourself to anger, when you are consumed by passion, when you risk yourself defending… Gods, do I love every impossible, reckless, and fierce part of you.” Faythe released a laugh mixed with a cry. Her eyes blurred, but elation kept her tears from falling. “And I will spend the rest of my days showing you when words fail that you are everything. In this life or the next, I will always find you.”

“I realize now that I was wrong. Wrong to ever deny that you were meant to be mine, and I yours.” For a long time, Faythe thought she would never find where she truly belonged. In High Farrow, in Rhyenelle, in anywhere else on the map of Ungardia and beyond—never did she believe she would find it. Feel it. Now she knew why. It was not in any one place where she would be bound by duty over heart. It was by his side. No matter where they traveled or settled, if the kingdoms fell and the world burned to ash, by Reylan’s

side she would always belong, and she’d never expected to find her true home in a fae so raw and fierce.

“I would have endured it all again.” Reylan kissed where her feelings had spilled over. “For centuries over if it led me to you, Faythe.”

“The Great General of Rhyenelle, the one they call the White Lion of the South, and the one who will be remembered in history within stories of battles and reign for millennia…is your soul-bonded mate, Faythe Ashfyre.”