Chapter 51
The next few days crawled by, dragging for both Arden and Malakor with the agonizing lethargy of a snail’s pace.
An ocean away in the quiet, incense-heavy Vatican, Malakor was buried under mountains of parchment. His world had shrunk to a single lamp and the scent of crumbling leather as he tore apart every myth and record ever written about the Phoenix. The deeper he dug, the more he realized how little they actually understood about the fire Arden carried—and how high the stakes were if he failed to find answers.
Back in the Fae Kingdom, Arden was fighting a very different kind of battle. Her life had become a minefield of bureaucratic red tape and forced smiles. Between grueling guard rotations, the suffocating protocols of the court, and Douglas’ endless provocations, she
