Page 11 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

“Fae.” Holt swung his feet onto the floor, waving a hand at the space on the lounger. Zylah didn’t move. “Well, you’re half Fae by the looks of things.”

She almost choked on the canna cake. “You’re not a Fae. Where are your pointy ears?”

His expression darkened for a moment. “I hide them. Best to in my profession.”

“And what is that, exactly?” She looked anywhere but at him, scanning every inch of the cabin for—

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“A weapon.”

Holt laughed again, the sound so at odds with the deep tone of his voice. “Here.”

He was on his feet so fast and so quietly, she wondered if before he’d been making noise just to reassure her whilst she took a bath. With a few steps he was in front of her, and she had to tilt her head up again to look at him. He reached over her; the musky smell mixed with acani berries drifting from him as he handed her a small dagger.

He must have noticed the way she’d stilled, and his mouth pressed into a firm line. “I won’t touch you,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“Who said anything about being afraid?” Zylah asked, snatching the dagger from his hand and side-stepping out from under him, throwing herself on the lounger with as much confidence as she could muster. “The Fae are long dead. What are youreally?”

He folded his muscled arms across his chest again, and Zylah considered throwing the dagger at him.

“Many died. Many fled. But some stayed,” he said, holding her gaze.

Zylah had always thought it odd that not a single Fae had remained after the war but then, she’d never left Dalstead and the small villages that surrounded it; had only lived under Arnir’s rule. And speaking of the Fae was forbidden, punishable by death—any record of them destroyed. “And what makes you think I’m half Fae?”

“Besides the evanescing, your speed, your heightened senses?”

She tested the weight of the dagger, her grip firm as she raised an eyebrow to him. “Fine. But those could be a coincidence. Apart from maybe the evanescing. Can all Fae do that?”

“What happened to you?” Holt asked, leaning back against the counter as she had been moments before.

Zylah was quiet, her gaze settling on the flames in the hearth. It would be different telling him than Kara. Kara understood. Kara knew her.

“We can talk more in the morning. Get some rest,” Holt said, as if he’d sensed her discomfort. He made his way over to the bookcase, grabbed a book and took a seat at the table.

The motion pulled Zylah from her thoughts. “Alright,old man.” But shewasexhausted, physically and emotionally, and she was still ten kinds of uncomfortable that she couldn’t figure Holt out. She’d been doing just fine before he showed up. She could have evanesced away from the king’s men.But for how long?Zylah wasn’t used to relying on others, least of all strangers, and yet there was no denying she’d be spending the night in another cave, or worse if it weren’t for Holt.

He rubbed at his neck, and for the first time, she saw a nasty scar poking out of the top of his shirt. “There’s water on the table,” he said, not even looking up, shifting his bench to turn away from her, as if he wanted to give her some privacy whilst she slept.

Zylah chewed at her lip, wincing when a tooth caught the place the split was healing. He looked exhausted from a day of evanescing, and her own exhaustion told her to leave her questions until the morning. Hehadhelped her, there was no denying it. She just had to know why. No one did that in Dalstead.

There was little privacy to be had in the cabin. In two strides she could be in thekitchen, two strides in the other direction and she could open the door to the bathroom. But it was better than out there, in the snow.

Zylah took a swig of water and settled into the lounger, watching the flames as Holt’s words sank in.You’re half Fae.And if King Arnir thought as much, he wouldn’t stop searching for her until she was dead.

Chapter Six

Kara’s favourite book was set in the forest. Faeries, of all things. Ethereal beauty, kind hearts, courage. Those were the qualities Kara had listed as her favourites. Zylah awoke from a strange dream, her fingers brushing against something soft and the images fading as soon as the fabric registered around her fingers. It was a blanket. Her eyes shot open, and she took in the sight of the cabin in the daylight, of the man asleep on the floor beside the lounger. TheFae.

Holt must have put the blanket over her when she’d fallen asleep. She sat up, a hand instinctively reaching to the rope burns at her neck. The skin felt normal; there was no ache. She caught sight of her wrist. The scabs were gone, and from her other wrist too. She reached a hand to her lip, her fingers tracing against smooth skin. Had he healed her, whilst she slept?

The dull ache around the knot in her spine remained, but that didn’t surprise her, she was getting used to it already. She looked at the way Holt rested his head on his arm, his shoulders heaving with each breath. More of his scar escaped the collar of his shirt, up the back of his neck almost to his hairline. He’d helped her. But that didn’t mean she owed him anything, did it?

She studied his face, the angle of his jaw, the way his mouth pressed into a firm line and his brows furrowed slightly. He seemed a little older than she was, mid-twenties perhaps, stubble peppered across his jaw. There was something familiar about him, but Zylah couldn’t place what.

Morning light filtered in through the dirty glass of the cabin, dust motes dancing in the air. And clothes, hanging to dry.Herclothes. Gods.Allof her clothes. Zylah leapt over Holt’s sleeping body and grabbed her things from the line around the fireplace.

She spun around to find Holt awake, hands resting on his knees.

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