Page 26 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

The men turned a corner, and Zylah kept on walking. The tavern was only one more street away. The city orblights were dull, but she’d always had keen eyesight. What more was there to learn about her Fae heritage?

She pushed open the door to the tavern, hood up and head down so no one would bother looking her way.A Fae uprising.It was all she could think of. The tavern was packed, the smell offyrsha, a homegrown liquor made from potatoes, thick in the air. Zylah had tasted it once with Kara, hiding in her father’s garden, and they’d both nearly choked up their insides after one mouthful.

She made her way up the narrow staircase with nothing more than a wayward elbow from one of the patrons, her fingers dragging along the coarse wood that lined the corridor. Holt wasn’t back when she let herself into the room, but Kopi made a quiethooin greeting.

“Oh hey, buddy, I’m so sorry it’s late. We’ll need to get some ribbon attached to this window for you.” She shoved open the window for the little owl, but he made no move to shoot out. Zylah reached into her apron for the grub beetles she’d collected from the arid dome earlier on. “Here, I brought you some snacks.”

She left Kopi to munch on the beetles as she rummaged through the drawers for something to sleep in. Holt’s scent was everywhere. She found an old shirt at the bottom of the last drawer and shrugged it on after discarding her clothes on the dresser.

Acani berries and Holt’s musky scent invaded her senses.Damn Fae.She climbed into bed, thinking about Jilah and his children.You hide in plain sight.How many more of them were there in the city? And the guards barging in. It was no surprise that there was a Fae uprising, but were they truly helping her? The Black Veil seemed a little more unsettling.

Her head spun and her back ached from hauling boxes of bulbs from one dome to the other all afternoon. But it had been a good day. She’d made progress with her new life. Her new beginning.

A key turned in the door, and Zylah reached for her dagger.

It was only Holt. But something was a little off about him. She scrunched her nose at a metallic tang in the air. It was blood, but whether it was his or not, she couldn’t be certain.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said as he locked the door behind him. He looked tired, and for the second time that day, she found herself wondering what he truly looked like, whether his ears were pointed like Kihlan and Niara’s.

“I got the job!” she said, shoving the dagger back beneath her pillow.

“I didn’t doubt you for a moment. Where?” He edged his way closer to the bathroom, and Zylah didn’t miss the way he didn’t turn his back to her.

“Botanical gardens.” She straightened the blanket across her lap, suddenly aware of the fact that she was wearing his shirt without asking.

“Impressive. Jilah’s a hard nut to crack.”

“You know him?” Perhaps she had been right to suspect Holt’s intervention, after all.

“In passing.” Holt stood in the bathroom doorway, one arm awkwardly held behind his back. If he was hiding something, he was doing a terrible job of it.

“Do you need yourwifeto look at that?” she asked, flicking her chin at him.

He pressed his lips together as if he were about to say something, but just huffed a quiet laugh instead. What had happened?

“I meant what I said before, about training. I want to learn more about what I can do, and I want to learn to use a sword like you can. I’ve only ever practised with, well sticks, essentially,” Zylah said, thinking about the training swords she’d used with her brother and all she’d learnt in the last few hours.

“And I’m sure you’re lethal with one.” Holt ran a hand through his messy hair as he looked at her, every inch of him seeming tightly wound.

“A pointy stick doesn’t really do much damage.” She was referring to the one she’d threatened to kill him with the day they’d met, hoping to elicit a laugh from him.

His eyes seemed to brighten for a moment. “Goodnight, Zylah. And congratulations.” The bathroom door clicked shut behind him, and Zylah was left blinking at the peeling wood.

She’d let it go, for now, because he looked like he’d had a bad night and she felt just as exhausted as he looked. But she wouldn’t be brushed off so easily. If there was a Fae uprising, she could help, couldn’t she? She could fight, make poultices. She could meet more of her kind.

Zylah lay down to sleep, clutching her dagger as Holt splashed around in the bathroom. Something was definitely off about him. But she didn’t want to press him again when he’d seemed so unwilling to talk about it.

She thought of the conversation she’d overheard on her way home from work as sleep tugged at her.Work.She couldn’t believe Jilah had given her the job so quickly, and she felt safe at the botanical gardens.

She felt safe with Holt, too.

Chapter Eleven

Aweek rolled by, and then another. It felt as if Zylah had always worked at the botanical gardens, as if she’d always come home exhausted and satisfied every night from a day working with plants.

And there were moments, every now and then, that she could forget she wasn’t wanted for murdering the prince. Could forget what he’d tried to do to her.

The guards had returned twice more, but Zylah had stopped hiding. She’d decided on their second visit that she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life cowering in fear.

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