Page 39 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

Zylah pieced the information together with what Holt had told her. “Do you intend to take back what’s yours with the uprising?”

“Ours,” Saphi said with a smile. “And no. The Fae abused their power for years. We just want the balance to be restored. To walk the streets freely without fear of guards striking us down for who we are.”

Zylah knew the feeling all too well. But shehadcommitted a crime. Whereas the Fae, as far as she knew, had not. They were being attacked simply for who they were. “How do you hope to achieve that?”

Raif strolled into the room before Saphi could answer. “All in good time, Liss. Jilah will be wondering where you are. Shall I walk you back to the gardens?”

Rose returned a heartbeat after her brother, and for the first time, Zylah noticed the glimmer of something where one of her feet should have been.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Rose asked, tugging on her trouser leg to reveal an obsidian blade in place of a limb, delicately curved at the tip like a pointed foot.

Zylah had never seen anything like it, but it truly was beautiful. “Incredible,” she replied, resisting the urge to ask if she could look at it more closely. Rose dropped her trouser leg back down, already sliding into place at Saphi’s side.

A question. Raif had asked her a question, and she’d been busy gawking at Rose and Saphi’s otherworldliness, a world she was now very much a part of. “It was nice to meet you both,” she said with a smile, Kopi flapping his wings once to resume his position on her shoulder.

Raif waved a hand in goodbye as he ushered Zylah out of the door, letting it fall shut behind them with a soft click. A heartbeat later, Zylah heard locks sliding into position. Five of them.

“I don’t see how Arnir fits into all of this,” she said as Raif stalked out into the street. Kopi flew on ahead as always; she knew he wouldn’t go far, even if she couldn’t see him.

A guttural sound rumbled from Raif. “He doesn’t. The king is a fool and the sooner he’s disposed of, the better all of our lives will be.”

A new king wouldn’t care about retribution. On wasting men to hunt her down. She’d truly be free if Arnir was gone, and a chill ran down her spine at the thought. “I want to learn more about my abilities. Is that something you can help with?”

Raif raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at her. “Just say the word, love, and I’ll show you anything you like.”

In Pallia’s name. “Do you really think those lines work?”

Raif shrugged. “They make you laugh. That’s enough for me.”

Kopi swooped down to land on her shoulder as the sound of many footsteps reached them. Guards. Without even thinking, she tugged up her hood, a quiet sense of foreboding washing over her.

“Ah, so he is a guard dog,” Raif murmured at her side as the guards passed.

Zylah’s thoughts drifted to the night before, when Kopi had clawed her attacker’s face and sent blood spraying across the room. She swallowed. “Something like that.”

Raif nudged her with an elbow. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. But I do owe Kopi a life debt. Two, in fact.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “A life debt. Ah, so you do know a little of Fae culture.”

“Life debts extend into our… into human culture, you know.”

“Oh yes, I’m well aware of the watered-down promises humans call life debts. A life debt for a Fae is binding: a life for a life. Nothing less will repay the debt.” His brow scrunched a little as he said it, but as if he caught her gaze, his expression quickly returned to cool neutrality.

“Well, Kopi’s saved my life twice now so, I guess I’ll have to figure out some way to repay him. Same time tomorrow?” she asked, as they strode for the goods’ entrance of the botanical gardens.

Raif’s smile was feral. “For a chance to see you in action again? You bet.” He didn’t follow her in. Just shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away, as if they were total strangers. Which they were, she supposed. She still barely knew him.

With muscles protesting her every movement, she willed herself to finish off her work for the day, almost yelping with relief when it was time to go home for the evening. When she returned to the tavern, Holt was already back intheirroom, hair wet, a clean shirt revealing a glimpse of the scar along the muscles of his neck. She swallowed as she thought of Raif’s words about how difficult Fae were to scar.

Holt frowned. “You smell different,” was all he said as they stared at each other.

Zylah willed her blood not to rush to her cheeks. “What is it with everyone commenting on how I smell today?” She ducked past him, pushing the bathroom door shut behind her and sniffing at her clothes. Sweaty, but not terrible. She’d have to wash them in the bath after she was done.

She set about filling the kettles, her hands working automatically without any thought now that she was used to the routine, finally allowing herself a moment to work through the events of the day. Her muscles screamed as she peeled off her clothes. She couldn’t train twice every day. She’d have to think of something. Perhaps one of them could focus on magic and the other on combat. She wasn’t sure yet, but she’d figure it out.

All that mattered was that she was learning—it didn’t matter who taught her. The faster she could learn, the better chance she stood of making it out of Virian and moving on with her life. She’d been studying Holt’s map in the evenings: the world was vast. And she intended to see as much of it as she could. But she knew it would be a mistake if she tried to keep running now. She’d only end up captured or killed by Arnir’s men. She had to be patient.

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