Page 30 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

She was on her feet faster than him, and she used the moment that he was off balance to shove him out the door, slamming it shut behind him and fumbling with her key in the lock. She pushed Kopi’s dresser in front of the door for good measure, straining to listen for the assailant, but all she heard was the sound of footsteps getting further away.

Zylah released a shaky breath. With trembling hands, she grabbed her dagger again and checked on Kopi. “Hey, buddy,” she whispered. “That’s two I owe you now.”

Kopihooedin response, head buried in his wings.

“Did he hurt you?” Zylah asked quietly.

The little owl flexed his wings; there was no damage, just a few out of place feathers.

“You did good. Thank you.”

Zylah leaned against the wall beside the door, listening for any signs of the intruder returning. The corridor beyond was quiet, the only sound her heartbeat, heavy in her ears. If he was one of Arnir’s men… but how could it be? Maybe they’d just seen her walk up the stairs from the tavern alone and thought her an easy target.

She’d almost let it happen again. Had frozen, again. Her head was pounding, and she inhaled slowly through pursed lips to steady her breathing. The room felt as if it were sliding away from her, and she pressed a hand to her stomach. Her thoughts jumped from one thing to the next. Had she done something that could have invited attention? What had she been doing just a few moments before? Zylah couldn’t think straight.

Her bath, she’d been preparing a bath. She listened again: laughter from the tavern, the slam of tankards on tables, nothing out of the ordinary. Whoever it was, they were long gone. She stroked Kopi’s soft head and his eyes closed at her touch. “Keep watch for me?”

Zylah shut the bathroom door behind her. It had no lock, but it was another wall between her and the outside world. The kettles had long since boiled, and she tried to still her shaking hands as she filled the bath with steaming water. She caught sight of her face in the mirror, the gash above her eye where she’d hit the table. If Kopi hadn’t been there… She’d have evanesced away, wouldn’t she? Then why hadn’t she? Why had she frozen, again?

Nausea roiled threateningly in her stomach, and she gripped the edge of the bath for support, sucking in a breath. Her bones felt weak. Like her body was still being slammed to the floor by her assailant, over and over.

Zylah blinked, stripped out of her clothes and sank into the bath. She pulled her knees to her chest, one hand still clasped tightly around the hilt of her dagger, and closed her eyes, replaying everything over and over until her heartbeat returned to normal and the water became tepid.

Kopi’s softhooand the sound of a key in the lock tore her from her thoughts. Holt. Her grip still tightened around her dagger.

The door hit the dresser. “Zylah?” Holt called out.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t think she could find her voice.

“Zylah!” His voice was more frantic this time as she heard the scrape of the dresser being shoved out of the way.

He’d have taken one look at the blood and the feathers and known enough of what had happened.

Zylah took a deep breath. “I’m fi—”

The bathroom door flew open with such force, she couldn’t help but flinch when it hit the wall and pulled her knees tighter to herself. “Fine,” she said in a whisper.

Holt was beside her at once, an expression she’d never seen painted across his face. He was on his knees beside the tub, knuckles white as his hands gripped the edge, the metal groaning beneath his touch. His eyes searched her face as her fingers tightened around her dagger.

“They didn’t hurt me,” she said quietly.

“This tells me otherwise,” he said, his eyes darkening as he raised a hand to the gash above her eye.

Zylah flinched away from his touch and he pulled back his hand.

“You look cold. And your wound is still bleeding. May I?” He gestured towards her cut but didn’t reach out for her again.

She nodded, watching him as he brought his hand close to her face, the warmth of the power pouring from him mixed with his familiar scent. She felt the trickle of blood clotting, the sting of the skin knitting back together.

“No other wounds?” Holt asked softly.

Zylah shook her head.

He held a towel out for her. “Come on, you’re cold.”

She stood facing away from him, not caring what he saw, clutching her dagger as he placed a towel around her shoulders.

His breath caught almost inaudibly at the last moment. He’d seen the knot in her spine, Zylah assumed. That was most people’s reaction, anyway.

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