Page 2 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

The guard shifted his weight beside Kara but didn’t turn to look at Zylah. None of them had. They all knew the truth. It was impossible to take one look at her and not know. They were cowards, all of them.

“Have you heard from my father? I haven’t seen him since they put me here. I’d hoped he’d come to see me before the execution,” Zylah said. Her voice was quiet, but she tried her best to keep it hopeful, for Kara’s sake. She was afraid to die, but dying was the easy part, wasn’t it? After, it wouldn’t matter for Zylah. But it would for her father. For her brother. For Kara.

Kara flexed her fingers in Zylah’s hands. “They didn’t tell you?” She shook her head. “Of course they wouldn’t. He went to find Zack, to beg your pardon before the execution.”

Zylah’s chest tightened at Kara’s words. She knew it would never work. The prince was dead, and the king would never pardon her, no matter how highly he thought of her brother. Zack was the King’s Blade, but that wouldn’t make any difference now. Still, she wouldn’t let Kara know that. They’d been friends for as long as Zylah could remember—Kara was the only one who had never shied away from her strangeness, well, other than her brother.

She and Kara had grown up together, worked together, shared stories of first kisses together. Some things Zylah had kept to herself, even when she knew Kara wondered what a man’s touch felt like. Her friend always seemed too pure for any of that. But one day soon she’d be married off, whether her mother wanted it or not. Women had little say in the city of Dalstead.

“Thank you,” Zylah finally said. “You’ve given me hope. Something I thought I’d lost entirely.” The truth was, she’d lost hope days ago.

“Did he—the prince?” Kara’s eyes filled with tears again, and Zylah could only feel relief that it hadn’t been her friend with Jesper that night.

“No. He tried.” Zylah reached for her face in a poor attempt at disguising her wince. “It all happened so quickly. I was stirring the fire, and he crept up on me. I just knew his intentions were not—” She glanced up at the guard as he coughed uncomfortably. “Honourable. I asked to be excused. He told me to stay. When I made for the door, he threw me against the wall, and—” Zylah’s heartbeat was like a raging drum in her chest, the sound filling her ears. But she knew Kara wouldn’t have been able to hear it, or the guard. She willed herself not to be sick again, shoved aside the thoughts of the prince’s hands tugging at her tunic.

“I was defending myself,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for him to die.”

“He deserved it, for what he tried to do to you.” Kara pressed her face against the bars, her eyes wide and filled with tears.

“Kara, you’ll get yourself thrown in here with me,” Zylah said, shuffling closer to her friend.

The girl closed her eyes for a moment. “Do you mean it, Zy, nothing else happened?”

He’d tried. Gods, had he tried. That’s how she’d got the split lip and the black eye—because she wouldn’t go down without a fight. The minute he’d thrown her against the wall and broken eye contact, it was like she’d stepped out of quicksand and woken up all at once.

“Only this,” Zylah said, waving at her face.

She’d replayed it all, over and over again. Enough times that every moment felt as if it were burned into her eyelids. She’d hesitated, and if she hadn’t, she could have darted out of the room, and none of this would have happened. But she’d hesitated, and he’d seen it, waited for it—like she was nothing but his prey. The moment she’d snapped out of her stupor and realised he wasn’t going to stop, she’d grabbed the fire iron out of instinct.

“This was enough,” she said after a moment, her voice raspy.

Kara nodded in understanding. She looked up at the guard beside her, his gaze still fixed ahead of him, and reached into her apron. Zylah kept her eyes on the guard as Kara’s delicate fingers slid something into hers against the bars. Something very small. Zylah flicked her attention back to her friend, and Kara tightened her grip.

At the end of the corridor, the rusty hinges squeaked as the door to the prison slammed open, the guard beside them reaching for Kara’s arm.

“I’ll wait up for your father,” Kara said. “I’ll tell him I’ve seen you. We’ll get you out of here, Zy. I promise.” The guard was already pulling her away, fresh tears glistening in the orblight.

Zylah didn’t protest, didn’t do anything that might put Kara in more danger than she already was, just kept quiet as whoever had entered the prison approached, praying they wouldn’t throw her friend in the adjacent cell.

She slipped whatever Kara had given to her into the pocket of her apron, smoothing it down and steeling herself as the footsteps came closer. Kara and the guard left quietly, the door falling shut with a thud behind them.

Zylah counted three, maybe four sets of footsteps, and they seemed to be taking their time, delaying the inevitable. No one in the prison made a sound, even the quiet whimpers had stopped, as if the air had been sucked out of each cell.

Zylah didn’t need to see to know who it was. King Arnir. He stank of the same avenberry liquor as his son had. Not that she could blame him, his only son was dead, the piece of shit. The orblights cast a soft glow across the corridor, but Zylah didn’t let herself look into the surrounding cells. There was nothing within them that she’d want to see in her final hours. She took a step back from the bars and braced herself for the king’s abuse, knowing all too well it could be more than just words.

“Any other bitch would have been grateful for his seed inside them,” the king spat as he stepped up to her cell, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Brought down by a maid,” he seethed, banging his sceptre against the iron bars, his fat jowls vibrating as he spoke.

Zylah didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t let her fear show, not to him. She took steadying breaths in through her nose, ignoring the burn of the prison’s putrid stench at the back of her throat. She said nothing—there was no use—not to the likes of him. He’d only silence her anyway, and that was precisely what he was trying to do, to rile her so he could cut her down in front of his guards. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Fine. Have it your way,” King Arnir hissed. “Guards. Take her to the gallows.”

Chapter Two

“Wait!” Zylah pleaded, taking a step back from the iron bars. She pressed her hands to her sides to hide her trembling. They couldn’t take her, not now, not like this. “My father is coming. My brother. Please, Your Majesty, I know you value Zack’s word.” She hated that she had to beg, but she would do anything to see her family.

King Arnir’s face was purple in the orblights as he slammed his sceptre against the cell bars again. This time, Zylah couldn’t help but flinch.

“How dare you speak of whatIvalue,” Arnir spat. “My son is dead because of you. My only son!” He clasped a hand around the bars, narrowing his eyes at Zylah as the guard’s key rattled in the lock.

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