Page 21 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

Kopihooedbeside her.

“I see your friend returned.” Holt sipped at a steaming mug of tea, the slightest hint of amusement lining his voice.

Zylah turned away from him, stroking Kopi on the head and noticing Holt’s note and the eyeglasses again.You talk in your sleep.She put the glasses on and inspected herself in the mirror, angling herself out of Holt’s line of sight. If she thought the hair colour was dull, the eyeglasses were even duller. They were perfectly round and a little too large for her face, and she hated the way they blocked out half the world around her, how the tint took the edge off the colour of things. But they would have to do.

No one would recognise her from the poster now. Not unless they held it right up to her face. And she was too quick to let that happen any time soon.

She loosed a breath in relief and took the seat opposite him, unwrapping the canna cake and picking at a small piece. “Tell me more about my Fae abilities. Train me. I’ll pay you.”

“With what money? I’ve seen your undergarments.”

Zylah snorted. “I fail to see how that is relevant.”

“There are no secret pockets stashed with notes.” His face gave nothing away as he sipped at his tea, not a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. Oh, he was good.

“Rule number five: no mention of my undergarments, whatsoever. I’ll earn money when I get a job. And I’ll pay you to train me. I’ll pay you back for everything.”

He’d gone quiet, and she wondered if he was waiting to crack another joke. But she wanted him to know she meant it.

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him. “For all of this.” She waved the cake at the room, at her hair and glasses. “I’m going to look for work today, and I’ll repay you for all of it.”

“You were serious? About looking for work?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Just existing is not enough, Holt. I want to live. I’ve seen what a half-life does to people. It’s torture. I do not accept that fate. Even if I have to run from Arnir for the rest of my life, I will do it, and see the godsdamned world while I’m at it. But I need money first.” She didn’t ask him about the connections he’d mentioned, the ones that could help her get set up. She could do this by herself: find work, repay him.

Holt rested an arm over the back of his chair as he watched her eat her canna cake, but he didn’t say anything. She suddenly found herself fascinated with her breakfast, unwilling to meet the intensity of his gaze. If he was going to ask what happened to get her into all this, she still wasn’t ready to tell him.

He reached into his pocket and placed a small vial on the table. “Naptha oil. To remove the dye from your hands.” He leant across the table and brushed a feather-light thumb across her temple. “And from here,” he said, with a smirk.

Zylah stopped mid-chew, trying to come up with a response and failing. Holt had already pulled away and pushed himself up from the table.

“I’m going to take a bath, then I’ve got some deliveries to make across the city. I can point out a few places on the way and meet you back here this evening.” He didn’t wait for an answer, had already made his way to the bathroom in half a stride and closed the door behind him.

Well then. That went well.Zylah twirled the bottle of naptha oil in her fingers as she finished her canna cake and her toast, resisting the urge to touch her face where Holt’s thumb had brushed it. She shoved aside her wandering thoughts about how her situation had progressed—sharing a room with a hulking Fae who’d referred to her as his wife. It was like the plot of one of Kara’s Fae novels, and if Zylah ever saw her friend again, she was going to make her promise to stop reading those ridiculous romance books to her.

Zylah sighed. It was most likely she’d never see Kara again, or her father, or her brother… She walked over to the window. Water sloshed in the tub next door, and Zylah focused on every detail of the city she could see; anything not to think about the fact that Holt was sitting in the tub on the other side of a very thin wall. A tub that was entirely too small for him, and how much of him would even be covered in water anyway, and what did—Gods above, Zylah.She opened the window a crack, suddenly too hot in her clothes, the fabric scratching against her skin.

Fresh morning air cooled her face. The city was densely packed with familiar grey stone buildings, and from here she had a view across rooftops and towards a few grander structures with pillars and carved fascias, the details of which were too far away to see. She meant what she’d said to Holt. She would not live a half-life. It was the way all the women of Eldham, her father’s village, lived. And it had always frightened her. She had always longed to see the world, and now she had a reason to put as much distance between her and Arnir as possible, even if it meant looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life.

In the street below, a pedlar pushed just about every variety of household item Zylah could imagine, from buckets to taps, stools and brooms, he seemed to have it all in the little cart he dragged along behind him. But he soon quietened down when a group of soldiers entered the street, and at their lead, a golden-haired young man who looked…No.

Zylah took a step back and knocked over a chair.Jesper is dead.Her heart beat wildly in her chest, her breaths came too fast and her palms turned clammy.He’s dead.

“Zylah?” Holt asked from beside her. He’d moved so fast, and she hadn’t heard a thing.

Zylah peered out of the window again, taking a closer look at the man leading the soldiers. She let out a broken breath in relief, resting a hand over her heart.Not Jesper. Just your imagination.“I thought I… saw someone I recognised.”

Holt peered out beside her, following her gaze down the street and frowning. He was shirtless, his hair and skin dripping and only a towel clinging to his waist.

Zylah cleared her throat, trying not to look at the thick muscles of his arms and chest. Her eyes fell to the vicious scars along his right arm that reached to his neck and her breath snagged in her throat. “How did that happen?” she asked, unable to look away.

Holt was still looking out of the window, down into the street below. “I got in a fight I couldn’t win,” he murmured, not even bothering to ask what she was looking at. “I’ll be ready in five minutes,” he said, pulling some fresh clothes from the drawers Kopi sat atop.

She chanced a look at him in the mirror, at the way his muscles were sculpted across his stomach and suddenly remembered the naptha oil in her hands. “I’ll need a moment just to clean up the erti root,” she said quietly, averting her gaze.

But the bathroom door had already clicked shut behind Holt again.

Zylah sighed, stroking Kopi on the top of his head as she waited for the bathroom to be free. “You’ll be alright napping here for the day, won’t you?” she asked quietly.

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