Page 19 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

Holt merely shook his head.

Of coursehedoesn’t get it. Oaf.“Thank you for what you did for us,” Zylah said, making her way to the window. She tucked in a few loose strands of hair before pushing the window wide open. “I won’t forget it.”

Kopi made one final small hoot and shot out the window into the dusk.

“Well,” Holt said from his seat on the bed. “Clearly all the evanescing has started to take its toll on you.” He pushed himself to his feet. “There’s a bathroom through there, a tray of food will be here in a moment.”

A knock sounded at the door and Zylah instinctively reached for her dagger.

“Relax. It’s just our food.”

But Zylah was thinking about the wanted poster.Dye your hair. Find some eyeglasses.She repeated the instructions to herself as Holt brought the tray to the small table and gestured for her to join him. She didn’t feel like eating. She grabbed a bread roll and stepped into the bathroom, letting the door shut behind her.

She couldn’t sit and eat with him like nothing had happened. Like it wasn’t all just some strange game they’d been playing. Zylah let out a breath and left the bread roll on a set of wooden drawers beside the door.

Two full kettles hung over the fireplace beside the bath and she tipped them into the tub, steam rising from the water. Had he done that? She didn’t call out to ask. He’d done so much already. First thing in the morning, she was going to figure out a way to get hold of some erti root and some eyeglasses, and then she was going to find a job. The quicker she could repay Holt, the better. He had work to get back to, anyway, he’d made that clear, and she wouldn’t be a burden any longer.

She undressed and grabbed her roll to nibble at in the bath. She wasn’t hungry, but she could never pass up bread, and she didn’t know when the next meal would be and if he would provide breakfast, or if Arran would, that is.

Calling all Bounty Hunters. Fugitive Fae wanted for the murder of Prince Jesper. Highly dangerous. Use caution. Bonus rewarded if the subject is brought to the king alive.Zylah didn’t know how far Arnir’s men would be searching for her, but she had to stop somewhere, couldn’t run forever with nothing.

The days had passed by in a blur. It had only been a few nights since she’d escaped the gallows, and yet they’d travelled so far already. How was she to repay Holt for that? Would money be enough? She’d always hated accepting help, had always done whatever she could by herself, even to her own detriment.

She forced herself to finish the bread, unbraided her hair and scrubbed at her skin with the questionable-looking soap that sat beside the bath. Venti lilies, she thought, with a sniff. There were worse things to smell of.

Leaving was an option. But where would she run to without any money, without any supplies? Better to save up and equip herself for the life of a fugitive. Because that was what lay ahead of her now, whether she had fully admitted it to herself or not. She’d always be looking over her shoulder, wherever she went.

She stayed in the bath until her skin wrinkled and the bathwater was cold, hugging at her knees as her thoughts went round in circles. With any luck, Holt would be asleep by the time she left the bathroom.

She dried quickly and dressed, pausing to listen for any sound from the room. It was quiet. She reached for her dagger and carefully pushed open the door. The sound of Holt’s steady breathing was all she could hear. The tavern below had fallen quiet some time ago.

He was fast asleep on the lounger, his hulking frame far too big for it, one arm under his head and the other brushing the floor.Holter, my boy.Arran seemed to think a lot of him.I’ll figure you out. Zylah tucked the dagger under a pillow and climbed into bed, shoving aside the thoughts of the wanted poster that seemed imprinted into her eyelids.

Jesper was laughing, blood dripping from his head, his eyes, his mouth. His hands were covered in it as he stepped closer, reaching out to her as he called her name, “Zylah…”

“Zylah, Zylah wake up.”

Zylah’s hand closed around her dagger, and she instinctively brought it to the neck of the man leaning over her as awareness crept in, the scent of acani berries and musk filling her senses as the nightmare slipped away from her.

Holt didn’t flinch at the dagger or make any move to stop her. His hands were warm on her shoulders, his gaze fixed on hers. His green eyes were wide as he murmured, “It’s okay, Zylah, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her heart was racing so loud she was certain he could hear it. But what was there to say? She’d had a nightmare about a dead man? She focused on steadying her breaths but didn’t lower her weapon.

Holt made no effort to move. His eyes flicked lower for a moment, and then back to hers. “I’m going to step away now, okay?”

Zylah nodded once, and Holt released her shoulders and sat beside her, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair as he released a quiet breath.

“That’s it, no questions?” Zylah asked, clutching the dagger to her chest to try and hide her unsteady breathing.

“No questions. But you realise you almost broke rule number two,” he said with a tight smile, flicking his chin at her dagger.

She knew he was trying to make her feel better, but the shadow of Jesper, dripping in blood, still danced before her eyes. “Why are you helping me, Holt?”

“Because it could have been my sister.”

Seven gods. I remind him of his sister.

“I know what they do to women in prison. I saw your black eye and split lip.” He looked away, and she knew there was more to it, more about his sister he wasn’t letting on, but just like before, something told her not to press him on the matter.

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