C.C. Peñaranda

A Sword from the Embers

Ela consegue ser bem burra / tapada — Ruben — mas nessa aqui ela se superou

Bia || Alpi 

"We have to go back" she whispered. How could she have left him?

When she finally snapped her head up to him, Kyleer grimaced at her grief-stricken face. "We left him. What will she —?" Faythe couldn't finish her sentence. Nausea overcame her in a strong wave that had her bracing palms on the cold woodland floor. Wood splinters snagged in her skin; rocks cut her palms as she queezed so tightly, but apparently not tight enough.

She was weak. The Magestone raged, and she had to tell Kyleer, not knowing if it could kill her, because that couidn't happen. Not until she found him. Faythe rubbed her wrist, so used to spinning the amulet — the eye of the Phoenix — but it was bare. Her gaze snapped to Kyleer, who propped up the Ember Sword. Seeing her attention on it, he stepped forward to extend it to her, but Faythe shook her head.

"By rights it is. He would have wanted you to have it"

"No." It had been her last hope, and she prayed Agalhor's tale of the ruby stone was true. "It will take us to him."

ela deu o bracelete para ele já que ela tinha a espada do Agallor e agr eles estão conectados 😭😭😭

Knowing her seconds were precious, she fell to her knees, taking Reylan's face in her palms, though he was still stunned in his stupor. "I hope you will forgive me," she whispered, holding those sapphire eyes with such conviction. "I want to give it all back to you."

"Faythe..." He breathed her name, but she couldn't most dominant in him. Agony, shock, awe, terror. Then a staggering rage. be sure what emotion was "You're hurt —"

Faythe's lips pressed to his, and she drifted faraway with him, canceling it all out. She touched his rain-slicked shoulders, his chest, trailed her hands down his arm to slip the metal from her wrist onto his. He held her face tenderly. Faythe ignited with every touch she could steal and wished the seconds could stay suspended as minutes. Minutes to hours. She wished time were a force that could be fought and reversed, but all it did was mock her fantasy.

She shook her head, but he took her wrists, prying them from around him when a new arm hooked around her waist and she felt the transportation pull.

She didn't tear her eyes from Reylan. Misery wasn't a big enough word for what obliterated her heart, her soul, as Kyleer's shadows snaked around her and engulfed them in a heartbeat. With one final effort, she pushed everything she had into the bond. It was incomplete, but she'd heard him in another realm, and all she could do was believe he heard her now as she didn't stop repeating her promise so he wouldn't stop rem bering it.

eu confio em vc Izaiah pf não me decepciona, tu fez isso só para poder ficar com o Reylan neh…. Diz que sim pelo amor 😭😭😭😭

"You brought her to me." Marvellas flicked her golden gaze to Izaiah.

No. Izaiah hadn't known who they were to face. He wouldn't —

"Only for her to see what's at stake if she plans to fight." 

A ringing filled her ears — an attempt to block out the words, change them, 

 them. They were wrong. So wrong, and Faythe was falling into a depthless pit of despair. She couldn't get a grip to keep herself from plummeting.

Izaiah released her, and without any support Faythe fell to her knees. All she could do was look to Reylan across the stone courtyard, wondering how they'd gotten here when they'd come so close to having everything.

 she sent to his mind in her utter heartache. Everything was because of her. So much of what he'd suffered was by her cause, and she should have set him free, yet instead, she'd anchored him to her once again.

Izaiah walked right up to Marvellas, dipping his head. "I hope you will accept me on your side."

Disbelief wasn't enough for what carved out her chest. 

"Very well." A triumphant smile sounded in her voice. 

A white rage flashed across her vision, and she was about to reach for her sword to end him despite every physical barrier that stunted her.

The silken delivery of her name tore her eyes from Reylan, who didn't look up. When Faythe found the source, it was like an answer she'd searched an eternity for blazed like a beacon before her. One that torched anything of mercy and reached some impenetrable darkness within her.

"Marvellas," she breathed, more to herself just to know she could speak.

"Or should I tell them all who you really are since in your cowardice you cannot?"

Faythe nearly doubled over as the sickness rolled through her gut.

That name became a key Faythe didn't know she'd been searching for. Hearing it spoken aloud placed her in a hallway with so many doors she didn't know where to begin. Each one led to a life she didn't know she wanted to have back.

Aesira knew Marvellas. What flashed to her, but which she immediately wanted to expel... was that once, that fae might have harbored a twisted love for her. But in this life, Faythe had long hoped Marvellas was nothing more than a fable, a ghost.

Not the returning nightmare from her past.

Faythe was close to falling again when something large came pounding toward her. The black panther felt somewhat familiar, and with a quick rattle around her mind, she almost cried with relief.

Izaiah didn't shift back; his large head caught her stumble forward, and she needed no other coaxing before he lowered enough for her to grip what she could of his sleek coat and clumsily climb onto his back. Her face buried into him, clutching tightly as he took off running. Faythe began to cry all over again, not knowing how to tell anyone what had happened. Still branded with the image of her father lying so still she ached with the impossibility of reversing time.

Her consciousness fogged. She wasn't sure the echo of Izaiah's voice was real. 

"Gods, I hope so. I need you to know I'm sorry, that this is the only way, and I've known it for a while." 

Nothing made sense, but some part of her knew these words were important.

"Tell Kyleer, for once in our lives, I was one step ahead."

Something screamed at her from within, trying to reach out.

Reylan — his name burst through the dream state she'd tunneled into. All she could do was chant her apology. Meeting her end wrapped in the soul-destroying force of his terror became the most punishing reality. Only her desperation to spare him had her directing the last of her strength to close off that distant tie.

Faythe focused everything now on summoning another bond as her last hope.

She begged for it to save her, if only so she could return to him.

The air whooshed from her upon impact, but the landing wasn't as unforgiving as she'd braced for. It dipped to her descent, and she sank into surprising softness.

Faythe forced her body to turn, her arms to tighten, and her hands to clutch the silken feathers tightly.

While she drifted in and out of consciousness, Faythe couldn't give in. The Firebird soared away from the city, and Faythe wasn't sure where she thought to go.

The loathing eased from her face as she tossed the blade aside. "If I kill you, she will never come with me. She will never stop fighting." Marvellas seemed to be thinking out loud. She crouched slowly. "Instead, I will use her own cunning to get her to remember what we had before you ruined it all. 

 —" Her hand lashed out to his jaw with a surprising grip. Reylan jerked out of it, but he was weak to defend himself when his wounds bled freely, and his energy was dwindling. "This is all your fault. She didn't need your poisonous influence when she was safe with me."

Reylan couldn't make full sense of her words, but one thing was certain. She was speaking of Faythe. 

Also the gold particles again 👀👀👀

With the second choke that struck her spine hard, the ground was pulled from under her, and she forced herself to turn around and see what her mind had clouded with complete denial.

Saw the glint of the steel and Magestone blade slick with crimson protruding through Agalhor's chest.

Her stare locked on the talons of the towering wings that led down to the face of her nightmares.

There were no words to describe what overcame Faythe in that second. She didn't believe she'd ever recall the moment she erupted from the inside out. A violent scream tore up her throat though she didn't hear it. The edges of her vision were diffused in gold. Fire devoured her. Then expelled from her. Not in flame but something beautifully lethal. Gold dust that blasted through the entire square, hitting everyone but him.

Faythe's palms splayed wide and trembled by her side. Her hair whipped around her, and the rain rain couldn't touch her. She kept screaming until the vibrations of the ground no longer trembled through her. She became weightless. Power surged through every internal piece ofher, and for a moment she believed it would destroy her.

Until the sound that lifted from her throat died out. Her vision began to bring back the real grim colors of her world that had turned gilded before her.

The snap back into herself whipped like a lashing. Faythe pressed her cheek to the wet stone as she slowly came to, scrambling her thoughts to gather who she was, where she was, and what she had done.

Her whole body shook with tremors. She dragged her hands up to brace herself. The symbols within her palms slowly died out and exhaustion began to sweep in, taking the place of the power she'd summoned in reckless, raging desperation.

One thing slipped through her memory as she pushed herself up.

Faythe found Agalhor lying still against the cold, wet ground, no other bodies around him as though the gold particles the wind and rain swept away were all that was left of the fallen. She forced herself to stand. Walked to him on weak legs. Her sword caught her like a crutch a few times. Her steps dragged slow, begging for him to get up before she could make it there and discover the worst. 

Faythe might have slipped the words aloud, as if her need alone could raise the king.

Faythe only shook her head. Her palms burned the most, but the lines over her arms, the markings on her spine, shone the brightest they ever had. This velocity of magick she had never tempted before, and in it she found no good nor evil; she found herself.

Faythe challenged that power, gripped it and claimed it, unlocking the height of all she'd been too afraid to face. What lived within her was every triumph and transgression, who she was, and what she wanted to be.

Jakon's courage, and Marlowe's knowledge.

And while she fought a power of familiar might that dragged forth her own frightening will of vengeance and defiance, Faythe realized one other thing she was too.

Zaiana's darkness, and deeper, cloaked in shadow, her light.

"You can let go now." The guard's voice drew a gasp from her at his closeness, and she snapped her eyes to him. “You saved us all."

Nik turned to her fully then, leaning back against the railing. He couldn't decipher her nerves. Nerida's golden-brown skin glowed with a familiar beauty. Even her eyes her eyes tugged at something within, and he could hardly stand to look at them through no fault of hers.

"You don't have to." Tarly spoke to her softly.

Nik didn't particularly like the prince — that hadn't changed. Though he observed a different side to him he'd never glimpsed before that shone in this fae's presence.

"He's right. I thank you for all you have done for me, but you have no reason to risk your life on this quest."

"I do." Their silence pinned her. Nerida wrung her hands, and Nik knew it was the sign of a lingering confession. His heart rate spiked.

"You owe them nothing" Tarly said quietly.

"I spent my life hiding, watching and yearning only in my cowardice. I owe this to myself, and to her."

Nik's alarm rose. "What are you talking about?"

More silence. Yet it was not enough to curb the weight of knowledge that crashed down on them all at once.

por algum motivo eu ainda confio em vc 😭😭😭 pf não me decepcione CHLOE TIRA AS PATAS DELE

The voice that called through the darkness she knew. With her lightning, she sent the fae under her grasp into unconsciousness before begrudgingly following the sound. Zaiana found him, only a flood of moonlight streaking across his hard face while he stood with his hands in his pockets.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing? There's no going back," she taunted.

"You upheld your end of the deal; I've upheld mine," he said coolly.

ZAIANA SAT WITH eyes closed, head tipped back, while the moonlight caressed her face. She lis- tened to the music she could hear faintly if she focused. The celebrations for the comet were well underway. There was peace in the songs they played, and while she listened her mind drifted afar. She allowed her thoughts to run wild just for one night.

She'd once believed her pitiful notions could be locked away and no one would know.

That solace had been taken from her now. Still, she couldn't tame her thoughts of fantasy with the music that coaxed them out, and she imagined what it would be like to dance. She'd seen it before — the clumsy but joyful type in smal-town inns; the elegant and whimsical movements she'd spied through castle windows; the intimacy of two lovers who'd stolen a moment in the night, slow and without any care for specific steps, only what moved them as one. Zaiana wondered what it would feel like to be held in such a way. To step out of her combat leathers for the first time to wear something beautiful and glittering.

Her childish whims were snuffed out like a candle.

Zaiana's eyes opened with the shuffling that started down the passage. She kept her eyes on the brilliant moon, hoping her lack of attention would get him to leave as quickly as he stormed to her cell.

"You're missing out on the celebrations," she drawled to Kyleer.

A rattle snapped her attention, straightening her head, as Kyleer jammed the key into the lock. The resounding click of it opening stunned her. She used her back against the wall to rise but barely got to her feet before his hand gripped her chains, the other wrapping around her throat.

It all happened so fast she blinked with bewilderment as he held her to the wall, green eyes blazing while he pushed out hard breaths. Her bound hands stayed locked above her head.

Neither of them spoke for a few long, electrifying seconds. Her chest rose and fell deeply to have him so close with no bars.

Their eyes locked with a longing sense of sadness. They'd been parted so suddenly, and she'd never had the chance to tell him she understood... that she knew he wasn't the monster she'd thought him to be. 

, she was so sorry, and it took everything in her not to move with the urge to embrace him after all they'd been through.

Tauria eyed the blade at his throat, then Nik's, then Samara's, until her gaze fell on a female fae. She couldn't be certain what caused her need to blink several times. Her face creased in confusion as if she should know the fae, but her mind was conflicted. She was certain she had never seen this fae with stunning silver hair against golden brown skin before, but at the samne time she seemed familiar. The fae only stared back, hazel eyes wide with fear, and Tauria saw the blade threatening her life too.

"Let them go," she said. A vacant response. She had to gather herself again as her mind tunneled into a stupor. The ground didn't feel so solid, and a small voice questioned if this were a nightmare instead. A twisted conjuring of the impossible and the worst of her fears.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Not at all. Just yesterday I stepped on the lord's foot, and I think he was running out of ways to politely tell me I can't dance."

Reylan smiled, showing teeth with a burdenless ease. Suddenly, she wasn't afraid to voice all that rushed to the forefront of her mind at seeing him standing in this hall for the first time. She wanted the world to know what she saw, 

, about the great General of Rhyenelle who was so much more but lived in the shadow of his own title. Esteemed, but not nearly enough. She wanted everyone to find the same clarity she did when they looked at him.

"It took until now to remember why I chose to be Rhyenelle's heir. It wasn't to sacrifice my heart, but to lead with it. It wasn't to bow to customs and ideals that have far overstayed their welcome. I wanted to show this kingdom devotion like my mother and protection like my father — neither of which I would have had the strength to embrace within myself if it wasn't for you, Reylan. Your belief in me, your dedication to this kingdom... you're everything our people deserve. I choose you, Reylan Arrowood. This kingdom chooses you."

Those sapphire eyes held her with such pride and liberation. Reylan surveyed the crowd, their people, whom Faythe knew were in agreement, or at least open to the notion of him. She wondered why she'd let her spiteful cousin's seed of doubt grow at all. Reylan upturned his palm, and her stomach burst in a flutter when her skin met his, publicly, showing everyone she wasn't afraid of what they might think of him.

"Would you do me the extraordinary honor of having this dance with me, Faythe Ashfyre?"

The king took her chin, and she was helpless to jerk out of his hold. "Listen," he ordered.

At his command, a rhythmic thump echoed through the space. Distant at first, until it built, strong and sure. A heartbeat.

Zaiana could have laughed at his absurd claim, but she wondered what kind of twisted joke he was playing. Then she felt it. In her chest that movement terrified her, but the more that terror grew, the harder it slammed, the faster it sprinted, and she couldn't take it, straining helplessly against a cry with a rush of need to tear it out.

 she chanted. It had to be a manipulation. 

There were times when she'd allowed herself to dream of this. What it would feel like to own a heart that 

. That could translate to so many wondrous, hidden things with careful attention in its ever-changing harmony. As she focused on the illusion of how it thrummed in her chest, Zaiana began to calm, holding this fluttering, sure thing that felt 

Until it was snatched from her as quickly as blowing out a candle, and she whimpered.

Faythe was distracted by the dip in her stomach. "You hate dancing."

"I do, but it doesn't feel like a tedious routine with you. It feels like what we just did — intimate. A moment when the world fades and the barriers fall. That first time in High Farrow, I would have danced with you that whole night if you'd asked."

The memory flared in her chest with a wave of emotion. Her fingers idly traced the tattoos on his chest as she remembered what it felt likethe moment the realization locked in her heart that there was no letting him go.

Faythe lifted herself up onto her elbow, watching her fingers trailing over his markings. One set called her, hypnotizing her with the pattern she traced over and over, until she stopped. Her lips parted. She couldn't unsee it. No longer a decoration, but a phrase her mind translated so suddenly her eyes pricked.

"You said these were memories of your parents," Faythe said vacantly. Reylan frowned. "They are."

, Faythe thought. All except this one, yet he wouldn't know.

He remained confused by her interest, but Faythe only smiled, leaning down to kiss him. A soft moan escaped her when his hand hooked her thigh, pulling her over him completely without breaking them apart.

"I don't think we're done here," he muttered huskily.

"I hoped not." Her desire ignited all over again with every hard inch of him beneath her.

As she glanced once more at her favorite marking on him, Faythe scanned his beautiful face. "No matter how long it takes, or what name, or what title, I will find you endlessly, Reylan Arrowood. If you only remember one thing, always remember that is my promise."

"Stay as you are," he commanded, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

Her chest was bursting, needing some outlet, but Reylan knew there were more ways to convey his feelings. She listened, knowing his intentions. Behind her, she heard him sit on the bench and fold back the piano's cover. The pause of silence as she held her breath for the music he would flood the room with drifted her burdens afar. Then he began to play, and the sting behind her eyes reminded her how deeply she had longed to hear this again.

Faythe's hands ran over her navel, feeling the song shimmer over her, and she gave herself to it completely. One hand dipped lower, and she closed her eyes, tipping her head back as her body bowed off the piano. Not through lust; Faythe was so entranced by his song that touched her body with stars.

Faythe couldn't fight the need to see him. The moon rays highlighted every contour of his battle form, his tattoos catching mesmerizingly in their glow. He didn't miss a note as he met her gaze through long, dark lashes.

The song tapered off gently, the last note settling in her heart. Reylan's fingers stayed poised on the keys until the final echo of that note faded completely. Then he slowly closed the cover, never once breaking eye contact. "I missed you," he said in answer. His fingers combed through her hair.

Her voice lowered with the emotion that burned in her throat. "Can you play it again?"

"As many times as you want me to. Until you hear it even when you're far and you remember I'm yours."

Faythe swallowed hard, wondering how she'd ever convey how much it meant to her. Everything he'd done for her. Words weren't nearly enough. The ache that swelled in her chest was a welcome pain. Real and all for him. 

Reylan didn't suppress his groan. His eyes closed for a long second upon first glance, when the material came away and dropped from his grip, exposing what she wore underneath. His voice was pure traveling gravel then as he leaned his mouth to her ear, drinking in every inch of her skin that tingled under his stare. "You're going to be the end of me, Faythe Ashfyre. But hat a blissful end it will be." 

Faythe stood in a similar crimson-and-gold lace underset to the one she'd once spotted and teased him about in the outer city Sloan Market. "It's not the same one," she said. Her breath hitched when his hand grazed her abdomen. Reylan pressed her tighter to him, and she felt his desire at her back heating her core. 

"No. It's so much better." He pressed his mouth to her neck, and Faythe bit her lip to suppress the noise that caressed her throat. "Don't do that," he mumbled, his fingers trailing over her ribs, shooting sensations straight to her breasts, which were torturously caged behind lace. It was an effort not to come undone in his arms. "I want to hear you. Every sound I can draw from you. 

, Faythe, you are the most exquisite thing to have ever Iived." His eyes once again locked with hers in the mirror as his lips grazed the point of her ear, and she moaned softly with the blissful torment. "As human, you could have brought a man to his knees. As fae, you could make the world bow before you."

Faythe tried to twist around, but his grip tightened. Reylan's slow smile skipped a beat of her heart, sending a tremor down her spine that rattled her whole body. "Please," she breathed, holding his gaze as it devoured her whole.

That smile stretched to a grin. "I want you to watch as I worship you, Faythe. I want you to see that as human and as fae, every inch of you is perfect." His hands trailed over her arms, fingers tracing that ancient vine of script. His gentle grip at her shoulders guided her to turn. Her hands met with his firm abdomen, sparking a heat that raced from her fingertips. Her eyes stayed fixed on the impressive contours of him, soaking in every inch as her hands trailed upward. Over his chest, marking every scar she remembered. Reylan's breathing came hard, his heartbeat picking up a delightful tempo at her touch.

Then sapphire met gold, blazing like fire and ice. Reylan claimed her entirely with that gaze. His attention flashed back to the mirror, and when Faythe glanced over her shoulder a short gasp left her. The two vines on her arms met in the middle, and Reylan's fingers traced down her spine where all three Spirit symbols adorned her shoulder blades, wrapped in a design so beautiful it quelled her horror at seeing the markings.

"Exquisite." Reylan's other hand lifted to her chin, guiding her face back around. "Powerful." He closed that distance inch by torturous inch. "Mine."

"I’m so tired, Tarly.'" Nerida paced to the wall. Her back slumped against it, head tipped to the celling as though she were asking the Gods, "Why this cruel hand?" "I’m so, so tired of moving. I've never felt at home. I've never fully known who I am. I might never, and I'm also afraid."

He approached, but she didn't track him. "You didn't answer my question," he said quietly. Tarly slid down the wall slowly, and he cast the same question to the answerless sky.

"You feel." Nerida barely whispered, but she paused.

Tarly resonated with the way her words failed her. Perhaps they lingered on the surface, cried out in her chest, or ached in her throat. He'd read many wonders of the world, both in fiction and in history, and he knew words could devour parts of a person more furiously, irretrievably, than any weapon, and time was a wicked accomplice. While flesh would heal, words could condemn for a lifetime. 

She went on quietly. "You feel like a place worth coming back to. So I did."

His existence exploded, only to mend slowly but with a new clarity, wrapped in pieces of her. Whatever was to come, Tarly would be dedicated to her. He'd never felt like this before, and it shook his world with so much confusion he didn't know what it meant.

She'd stumbled onto his path, and now he couldn't picture the road ahead should she stray from it.

He turned his head, and so did she. They sat there on the ground near touching. He 

 to touch her to be sure she was real when this gift seemed too perfect to be true. His arm slipped around her, and when Nerida's body eased into his side, she rested her head on his shoulder. Nothing had ever felt so complete.

This current between them became undeniably strong. It was a cruel taunt in his mind and a wicked torment in his soul that cried one word. One impossible phrase.

Why couldn't it have been her when this need for her came stronger than anything he'd ever felt before?

"You feel like home too, angel," he said at last. With hesitation in case she retreated, Tarly took her hand. He studied her beautiful brown skin against the tanned complexion of his, slipped their fingers through each other's, and his brow pinched. "You matter to me — more than I expected. I didn't know I was still capable of feeling like this. But you deserve far more than the affections of a fractured soul."

Her hand squeezed his. "I’m fractured too."

Tarly gently rested his head atop hers and their silence became liberating. He wondered with a flicker of longing if the cracks in their existence could somehow align. If two unlikely halves could forge something whole. Perfectly imperfect.

MASOQUE TA ACONTECENDOOOO A A A A A A. A A A. A A

When their mouths met, it became an explosion of color in his monochrome world. They moved against each other, their bodies answering to each other so seamlessly, obsessively. Their lips and tongues clashed as they lost themselves to desire as if neither of them had felt its true effects in so long that it was breaking them. He craved more of the taste of her; wanted to leave no inch of her untouched by him. With her soft moan, Tarly's hands dropped, and he leaned in to scatter the books from the table before hoisting her onto it. The feel of her thighs around him could have made him lose it right there, seconds from climbing onto the table with her. His lips met her jaw, her neck.

He breathed her in deeply, needing to fill his senses with every note of her scent to memorize it, but something sparked within. A flickering beacon. Itching at a recognition that he couldn't think to make sense of until...

Tarly pulled back abruptly. They breathed hard, but he couldn't ease his look of bewilderment. Utter disbelief at first, but complete confusion when it dawned. The reason why since the moment he'd met her she seemed so familiar to him. It snapped through him like he'd always held the piece, just shy of finding its place.

She reached over his mouth to halt him. Her brow pinched with her eyes as she straightened, not pushing him away but trailing her fingers over his lips before bringing them to rest on his collar. "I hoped you wouldn't realize," she whispered, barely able to meet his eye as though she thought he'd retreat immediately. "But if you need an explanation, this has to end. It is not knowledge that should be free when it could hurt someone."

"Hurt someone?" he repeated, incredulous. He backed away despite the flinch of hurt in her eye. "How is this even possible?"

Tarly didn't want to believe he was staring at a stranger all over again with the knowledge that flooded his mind. History, tales... his mind searched and plucked but came up blank for answers, yet his senses couldn't erase what blared right before him. A scent that made every outward piece of her so 

 obvious he wanted to slap himself for not seeing it sooner.

Nerida grinned, and then there it was: her ligh laughter fluttered through the room. It only lasted seconds as her gaze met his, but he captured it, stored it. Tarly moved as if gravity were directing him, without breaking their stare. Around the table until there was only a torturous slither of space, a noticeable cool breeze between them. Her head angled to his, and she didn't move away. 

"Why did you come find me on the rooftop?" he asked quietly.

Her large eyes fluttered with sorrow. "It felt like you needed someone," she said, equally as hushed. 

"Is that part of your healing capabilities?" he pondered. "Being able to feel others." 

"Not really. I got to your rooms, I saw the balcony doors wide-open, and Katori was whining, restless, and there was a brief moment when I believed you'd… I mean, I thought you might have —"

Guilt washed over him at her quickening pulse as he realized what the scene and his absence could have implied.

"I looked down first. Tarly, I don't know what I would have done. I've never felt this before, and it terrifies me." Nerida backed herself against the desk, hands curling around it as though her confession would make her flee now it was out.

Tarly could hardly move, though he wanted to close that distance. "Me too," he whispered. He took the one tentative step toward her. "Just tell me if this is too much, angel."

He'd thought it the moment he saw her in the woodland clearing. How the sun shone its glittering rays through her silver hair, reflected in her large hazel eyes, and glowed against her golden-brown skin. Nerida was angelic in every sense of the word.

Her lips parted, and he was drawn to them with an overwhelming burst of need. Slowly, in case she desired distance at any second, his hand rose to her cheek. Sparks ignited as he felt her skin beneath his palm, traveling to erupt his pulse. Her chest rose and fell deeply, nervous, but he remained as slow and patient as she needed.

"I really want to kiss you," he said, his voice no more than a quiet gravel.

Her brown eyes flashed to his mouth, to his gaze, as though restraining herself. "I want that too." 

He was seconds from becoming completely and wholly undone by her. The sensation was so effortless it was madness.

Tarly's other hand cupped her cheek, and when her fingers grazed his bare abdomen he had to stifle a groan. Inch by torturous inch he leaned down to meet her, then something seemed to blissfully snap as she pushed up on her toes to close that distance herself.

"You have always been free to choose, Faythe." Malin's tone took on a cheerful note that always hida sly plan. "But who you do choose reflects on us all."

The room stilled all at once. She couldn't see him, but she felt the ripples of Reylan's unease. Yet Faythe couldn't get one hopeful thing Nik had enlightened her to out of her mind.

She added, "Ungardian law states there is no better ruler to succeed a fallen monarch than a mate."

"Something you wish to share, Faythe?" Malin challenged.

Her eyes narrowed, but she couldn't implicate Reylan in this mess until she was certain it wouldn't backfire on them both.

"She is right," Agalhor interrupted casually.

"You still have a duty to this kingdom as its heir," Malin said. "To marry below station could create discourse."

Faythe ground her teeth. "Station shouldn't matter more than the will to protect this kingdom."

"Placing a commoner by your side would tarnish the Ashfyre name," her cousin insisted.

, she thought, not forgetting how clearly he'd made his feelings known in that carriage ride many months ago. "I crossed kingdoms to be here. I 

 my right to be here. Whomever I place by my side will be someone who shows their dedication through action, not title."

Faythe knew she'd drawn attention to Reylan with her words, unable to stop the rising need to defend him without saying his name. Awareness at her back made her twist her head, only to catch the last glimpse of silver hair before Reylan left the room inconspicuously.

AIIII 😭😭😭😭😭😭 tenho tanta dó do Tarly tadico só sofre o bichinho 

He thought he felt her, though his mind taunted she wasn't real, merely another mode of torment to shackle him to this hollow existence. Tarly shook his head, his hands fisting tighter in his hair. "You're not here," he whispered to himself.

The echoes of her eased in closer, and Tarly squeezed his eyes shut. She would leave as soon as she saw him. The real him. This pitiful, worthless state. To love him would be like stepping under his blanket of misery.

He couldn't stop shaking. Not when she came so close it would've been foolish to deny her. He didn't know how or why, but acknowledging her presence broke some other wall, this time one of relief and gratitude, so fleeting and easily devoured by his agony. Tarly didn't want her to see himn like this. He couldn't look at her and didn't have the strength to cast her away and save her from the entanglement of his messed-up existence.

Nerida's hands touched him, shooting warmth through his cold detachment. Perhaps she was just an- other figment of his desperate loneliness. He'd fallen from a height this time and none of this was real. Still, he clung to the hope of her and didn't protest when her palm slipped through his hair, grazing his tightly fisted fingers. Her other hand curled around his knee, and she tucked him in close. So close it obliterated his chest. Nerida slipped through the numbness that coated his body, this real, sure, 

 thing, and he didn't know why or what he'd done to deserve her. But this token of salvation...

He craved it with every fiber of his being.

"It's okay," she said, her voice breaking. "Tm here, Tariy. I'mn here, and you're not alone anymore."

Then he shattered from the inside out, releasing his tight grip on his hair ony to wrap his arms around her waist where she kneeled beside him. He half-expected to meet air, so when she pressed into him like solid assurance, it was all he could do from holding her securely as if she'd vanish any second.

Tarly had long succumbed to being a prisoner of his mind, but she'd crafted a door and become the key. Maybe it was selfish of him to want her guidance as he took those first steps out to discover what lay beyond, but his hand climbed her back, his forehead pressed to her chest, and all she did was hold him back. No one had held him at all in so long he'd forgotten the feeling of peace, and Nerida... she was more than that.

He didn't know how she'd gotten here or why she'd sought him out on the rooftop in such dangerous weather, but he was grateful for her. Gods, to have had someone so angelic come into his life and turn his greatest fear on its head... he was lucky. Because now what he feared the most was that she too would leave him too.

And with Nerida at his side, the darkness of his eternal cloud began to lighten. Just enough for him to remember he was still alive, and he 

Não entendi nada mas tamo aqui mesmo assim

Faythe shook her head, not having full clarity about what he meant. It was becoming an eternal headache. "I don't know what to do," she confessed. "I don't know everything. I can't be certain I ever will."

"You have to," he said. His voice was firm, but his heart opened up to her, and that... the familiarity of it, made her bury her face in her hands. Gus was not one to offer comfort in an embrace. "You have been through a lot. So much more than any soul should. I don't hold the answers you seek, though I truly wish I did. But the very fact you're here gives me hope you will figure it out. All I do know is there will come a time that will test your 

Faythe had never thought of it that way. Did she want it? Or would the truth expose her to merciless wounds that would never heal for all she'd done? All she'd failed.

"Marvellas had a son. Do you know if the message was received?"

The knowledge didn't slam into her like it should. Instead, it tempted her to a void in her mind Faythe feared more than anything, for it attacked her with words, images, and impossible truths. She avoided touching that part of herself all together. But this...

"No," she said, placing deep attention on the chipped wooden table as she thought. Taken right back to the abandoned shop and the Dresair she faced. “But perhaps it will be now."

A Sword from the Embers

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