Page 20 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

She said nothing as she watched him, the moonlight casting a pale glow across his face, and she wondered what he truly looked like. He’d said he hid his ears. What else, then?

“If I’m not here when you wake up and the door is locked, the spare key is in the top of the dresser. I shouldn’t be gone for long. Someone will knock with breakfast.”

“Your deliveries?” Zylah asked, raising an eyebrow.

Holt nodded. “Do you want me to wait here until you fall asleep?”

Gods above.He really did think her a child. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

In one graceful movement, he pushed off from the bed and returned to the lounger, lying down with his back to her, and again she thought of how the way he moved seemed so at odds with his size. That power she’d felt on the first day they’d met… the rawness of it. Yet he’d woken her so gently, his eyes soft and full of concern.

“Goodnight, Zylah,” Holt murmured.

Zylah still clutched the dagger to her chest. “Goodnight, Holt,” she said, as flatly as she could manage.

She silently went through her plan for the morning.Dye your hair. Find some eyeglasses.Only a few days of running and she was exhausted. Could she be a fugitive forever? She wasn’t sure. But she would not live in fear.

She listened in the dark as Holt’s breathing grew steady, going over and over her plan until exhaustion pulled her back to sleep.

Chapter Nine

Atapping sound woke Zylah. She shot up, dagger in hand as she blinked at the daylight. The room was empty. The tapping started again. She looked to the window, and there, face buried against the glass was Kopi.

She ran over to let him in, keeping out of sight as best she could. The little owl swooped in and settled on the dresser, a quiethooescaping him as he flew.

“Didn’t like the city much, huh?” Zylah asked as she closed the window behind him.

Hehooedagain.

Zylah sighed. “I get it. It’s much busier than I’m used to. You can stay here for as long as you need,” she said, stroking his head lightly as he nestled into his wings.

Beside him on the dresser was a bottle of erti root and a pair of eyeglasses, and a note scribbled onto a piece of parchment in beautiful, slanted writing.

You talk in your sleep,was all the note said.

Heat rushed to Zylah’s cheeks. What else had she said? Had she mentioned Jesper’s name?

She took the erti root to the bathroom and gathered towels for her hair. The list of things she owed Holt for was adding up, and she didn’t like it one bit. She’d never even asked her father for help, or her brother. Had always made her own way and had contributed to the household bills as soon as she’d been old enough to work.

Owing someone so much didn’t sit well with Zylah. And she owed Holt her life.

She hoped the erti root wouldn’t take much scrubbing to remove from her hands; it wasn’t the kind of impression she wanted to make looking for jobs. Not that she was really dressed for it, but at least her apron would make her look more work ready. The fine cloak would be a little at odds with the rest of her attire; her apron and tunic had certainly seen better days. She rinsed out the dye and towel-dried her hair, examining her work. It was a dull shade of brown, the kind no one would stop to look at twice. With the glasses, it would be enough for now. It would have to be.

Voices chattered down the hallway, growing closer as she tidied the bathroom.

“I’m sorry it’s late, I knocked earlier, but there was no answer,” an old woman said.

“My wife is a deep sleeper,” she heard Holt say.

Wife! In Pallia’s name…

The door to their room clicked shut, followed by the sound of a tray being placed on the little table. Zylah pushed open the bathroom door, her hair dampening her shirt.

“Wife?” she asked, a hand on her hip, the other gesturing to the door and the woman beyond it.

Holt smirked as he bit into a piece of toast. “Better to look like husband and wife. The duller the story, the less likely people are to talk. And what could be more tedious to the city gossips than a married couple?” He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small paper bag, placing it on the table.

Zylah sniffed at the air. It was a canna cake, but she made no move to sit down, despite the hunger that gnawed at her stomach.

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