Page 34 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

“But the Fae weren’t truly wiped out. You’re here, Holt, and so are Jilah and his children.”

“We aren’t the same Fae we once were, Zylah. We were given labels long ago. High Fae and Lesser Fae. After the first uprising, those titles were abolished, and the High Fae became the ones to be treated as nothing. Most concealed their powers. Some used them to make a living. Others were murdered in their sleep. The courts were ripped apart, their rulers murdered. We even had a few kings and queens, once.”

“You talk about it like you remember it,” Zylah said as he ate his toast in two mouthfuls.

Holt looked out of the window and loosed a breath. “I do.”

He barely looked a day over twenty-five. She wanted to know… not just his age. She wanted to know more about him. “How old are you?”

“Three hundred and thirty-two. Fae age differently.”

Zylah almost choked on her tea.By the gods.“Does that mean… Will I age differently?”

“Yes, most likely. You’ve already reached maturity by Fae standards, so you’ll age at a much slower rate than humans.”

“I’d always imagined Fae to be immortal,” Zylah murmured. She didn’t know why. It was the complete opposite of what she’d been told in Dalstead.

Holt looked away and rubbed at his chin. “Immortal, but not unbreakable. Some live a very long life. Others are not so fortunate.”

She’d struck a nerve again, and quickly fought for words to change the subject. “I wondered if you could tell me where you got the erti root.” She pointed to her hair, to where the blonde was beginning to peek through.

Holt looked back at her, a bottle of erti root appearing in his palm. “Also paid for,” he said with the ghost of a smile as if he’d read her thoughts.

Zylah took the bottle from him, careful not to let her fingers brush against his. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of the intensity of his stare and wishing she could read him better. “I’ve never fought with a real sword, you know.”

“Really?” Holt arched a brow as he leaned back in his chair, fingertips resting against the table. The corner of his mouth twitched for a moment, but then it was gone.

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” She picked up the remains of her cake, breaking off a piece and sticking it in her mouth. His hair was still messy from training, a shadow of stubble across his chin. Her thoughts drifted to how it had felt to wake beside him, his arm wrapped tightly around her and she looked out of the window, worried that he might somehow know what she was thinking just by looking at her.

Holt pushed off from the table, grabbing his coat. “I did, but I wanted to build your confidence. You need to know you can do it. Adjusting to a real sword is only about the weight difference; practice swords are heavier and build muscle. And you’re strong, we’ll find a sword that’s a good fit for you.” He gave Kopi a light stroke on his head and shot her a tight smile before he turned to the door. “I have to go, I’ll be late.”

“Yes, yes, for your deliveries. Go.” She stood by the door, ready to lock it, waving a hand at him. He snatched the last piece of her canna cake and shoved it in his mouth just as he slipped through the door.

She turned her key in the lock, biting back a smile. He was right about building her confidence; it had worked. She grabbed the erti root from the dresser and dashed into the bathroom to touch up her hair before work, her head buzzing and her muscles aching with the morning’s activities.

Whether he was part of the Fae uprising or not, Zylah had made up her mind; she was going to join them as soon as she figured out how. One thing she knew for certain: she would never be a victim again.

Chapter Fourteen

Kopi met her at the entrance to the first dome, where Zylah found Raif helping Kihlan unloading boxes again from a cart. His long hair was still loose and messy, and she caught his mint and lemongrass scent as she approached.

“Our goddess has arrived, Kihlan,” Raif said by way of greeting, a bright smile breaking across his face. “Been busy this morning, have we?”

Zylah frowned at the sarcasm lining his voice. She was only a few minutes late. Not enough for Jilah to comment anyway.

“I’ve been exercising.”

“Warming up for our session?” Raif asked with a wicked smile.

Gods.Zylah resisted the urge to sniff herself. She’d only had time to change her clothes after training. She supposed he was just being dramatic; he seemed like the type. “So youwilltrain me then?”

“Raif is the best,” Kihlan added. The boy puffed hair from his eyes and Zylah took the pile of boxes from his arms.

“Correction. I learnt from the best.” Raif nudged her lightly with his elbow. “But yes, I will.”

Zylah shook her head, ignoring the way her muscles ached as she carried the boxes past the weeping eye trees and towards Jilah, kneeling beside more marantas he was already halfway through planting. His hands were covered in dirt, clothes crumpled, but the old man never rested.

“Ah, Jilah, you don’t mind if I borrow Liss this morning, do you?” Raif asked as he placed his boxes down. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off the thick muscles of his arms and a banded tattoo around one bicep. He caught Zylah looking and winked.

---