Page 16 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

“Yes. Like I told you. Magic can be traced. I keep mine muted. For good reason.” He sheathed his sword. Zylah didn’t need to ask if the third attacker was dead.

“Are you going to do anything about those?” she asked, pointing at the arrows protruding from his arm and back.

Holt waved a hand and the arrows fell away. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his brow scrunching in concern. “May I?” He stepped closer, his hand hovering over her cheek. It must have been the archer when he’d thrown her over his shoulder.

It was her own fault for not thinking it through. Zack would have chastised her for her foolishness. Zylah blinked as she registered how close Holt was, the warmth from his hand as it rested an inch away from her cheek. He held her gaze, waiting, and she nodded.

She felt the warmth flow from his hand into her, the sting of the wound as he healed it. She cleared her throat as he stepped away. “Thank you.” He was already observing the forest, his gaze anywhere but her.

“If only the first part was you, who was the second part?” Zylah asked. She took in the forest as he did, listening for any sounds that might indicate more bounty hunters were on their way. Something cried nearby, a bird, maybe.

Holt looked in the same direction as the pained sound, his mouth a firm line. If the arrows had bothered him, he showed no sign of pain, but then he’d healed her, so she assumed he’d healed himself.

“The sprites. They’re drawn to my powers,” Holt said as the creature cried out again. “We need to leave.” He reached out his hand for hers but didn’t take it.

“Wait,” Zylah said, stepping towards the creature’s cries. “Look, an elf owl.”Just like Pallia’s.Zylah knelt next to the frail thing, one wing lying awkwardly to the side. “It warned us,” she breathed. “He’s the one that warned us right before the attack.” She scooped the owl into her palms, stroking the peppered feathers with a thumb. He was so small she could almost cup her hands around him entirely.

“I understand why you want to save it,” Holt said with an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “You just killed a man. But—”

“He wasn’t the first man I’ve killed.” Zylah swallowed the ache in her throat. “Please.” She hated the way her voice wavered. Hated that he wouldn’t help. But she couldn’t leave the owl to die. Its eyes fluttered as she stroked its head.

Holt sighed. A heartbeat later he held a hand over the owl, its wing healing right before Zylah’s eyes.

“We need to go, now,” Holt said, his head jerking at a sound in the forest. “They were Arnir’s men. More will be following.”

The little owl didn’t leave Zylah’s palms as Holt’s hand closed around her wrist, the forest spinning away from them.

Chapter Eight

They reappeared outside the walls of a great city, amongst a cluster of trees set back from the road. Zylah tried to hide her wonder at just how high the walls stretched from the outside. Dalstead was big, but this was something else, and she found herself wondering why Arnir hadn’t chosen this one for his capital.

There were no traces of snow here, and as soon as Zylah could get her hands on a map she intended to study it, if only to learn how far they’d travelled. Holt was alert, as she’d become accustomed to, his eyes taking in everything from the caravan shuffling by on the dirt road to the guards pacing back and forth.

“The quicker we get inside, the better. It’s too busy to evanesce unseen into the city. Leave the owl here, he’ll be fine.” He waved a hand but then held it out for her to wait.

“Absolutely not. Kopi’s coming with us,” Zylah hissed as a guard passed them. She knew this game well: wait for the right moment to blend in with the crowd, to become one of them. For the moment, they were just any old pair having an argument in the shade.

Holt’s eyebrow raised. “You named the owl?”

If he folded his arms across his chest now, Zylah decided she was going to stab him for it. “He saved us. We owe him.” Kopi stirred in her palms as she ran a thumb across his soft feathers. Two children ran by, chasing a lizard through the dirt.

Holt folded his arms across his chest, those ridiculous muscles of his pushing against his coat and puffed out a quiet breath. “I don’t think owls believe in life debts. Besides, I healed him, we’re even.”

“Fine, the two of you are even, but I still owe him a debt. I can’t just leave him here.” Stabbing Holt was off the cards with her hands full. He’d be onto her the moment she set Kopi down, and that wasn’t about to happen any time soon. Holt might have healed the little owl, but Kopi still seemed too drowsy to be left alone.

A muscle in Holt’s jaw flickered. “I can’t believe we’re discussing whether or not you can bring an owl into Virian.”

Gods it was irritating how much she had to tilt her head back to look up at him.

She gently tucked Kopi into the pocket of her apron, readjusting her cloak over the front of it. “What do you do? For your job. You handled the sword rather efficiently for a baker.”

Sunlight cut through the trees and cast a soft glow onto his bronze skin. His eyes were bright as he tilted his head to one side, as if he were covering a smile. “A baker?”

Zylah shrugged as she watched a man pass, leading a horse carrying his heavily pregnant partner towards the city gates. “The canna cakes. It’s all I had to go on.”

“I’m not a baker,” Holt said. She could hear the amusement in his voice, but she wouldn’t look up at him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

She pushed up the hood of her cloak instead, making sure her hair was tucked away. “Then what?” The guards had long gone and now was as good a moment as any to step out of the cover of the trees, to join the bustle of traffic to and from the city.

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