Page 57 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

“And you’re only telling me this now?” Zylah hissed as they passed a pedlar selling tied bunches of purple wildflowers atop a filthy rag.

“Holt ordered me not to tell you. But I wanted you to know the truth.”

Zylah couldn’t breathe. If she handed herself over, this would all end. No more deaths. No more attacks. But this had been going on since way before she’d escaped Dalstead. Before she’d killed Jesper. She walked over to the stone wall bordering the bridge and looked into the murky water below. Three months. Just three months until she was free. If she gave herself up… Arnir wouldn’t stop, would he? He wasn’t going to stop until every last Fae had been wiped out.

Dragonflies danced along the surface of the water and she willed herself not to be sick at the sight of them. “And we’re just letting him get away with it? Arnir? He’s just walking around the city, right now?”

“He left earlier today. He won’t be back until the festival.” Raif stood beside her, his arm brushing hers as he looked out at the water with her.

The first chance she got, she was going to go back to the forest for some jupe. If there was any way she could get close to Arnir, she was going to be ready. She might not be able to wield a sword with skilled efficiency in three months—no, a sword would never be permitted at the festival anyway—but adagger. A dagger was discreet. And she could poison the blade with jupe. Even a small cut from that would be enough to take down a king.

Zylah shoved the thought aside for later. “How is Asha?”

“As well as can be expected.” Raif turned to look at her, one arm resting on the stone, the other still looped around the box, and Zylah thought she saw a flicker of regret cross his face for a moment.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in there?” she asked, eager to change the subject.

Raif’s eyes brightened as he opened the box, a delighted smile lighting up his face. “It’s a gift.”

Folds of silk a shade paler than Mala’s skin stared up at her, and Zylah willed herself to hold them up. “A dress?”

“Ahoodeddress. I wanted to take you out for dinner, and I didn’t think you’d be so easily separated from your cloak.”

Zylah felt his gaze on her as she took in the fine blue fabric.

The sleeves and most of the bodice below the chest were made entirely of delicate lace; it was by far the finest thing Zylah had ever held.

“This is…” The old Zylah would have never accepted it. Would have said she couldn’t possibly take such a gift. But then old Zylah would never have done half the things she’d done since leaving Dalstead. And gods above, did she need something to drag her thoughts away from Mala. “It’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

Raif closed the lid and held out an arm for her to loop hers through. “Come on. Saphi made me promise to bring you to her to get ready.”

“We’re going tonight?”

“Unless you’d rather not?”

Zylah bit down on her lip. This was far more kindness than she deserved. “No, I… I’d be grateful for the distraction, actually.”

Raif squeezed her arm. “Liss. You walked right into that one, didn’t you? I promise to be as distracting as possible.”

The hood was detachable. In fact, the hoodandthe sleeves. They were separate so that the dress could be worn without them but fit flawlessly when worn together. Saphi had tried to convince her to go without the hood, that a few deceits here and there were all it would take to change Zylah’s appearance. But Zylah wasn’t convinced, not so soon after the attack. The only deceit she’d allowed was one to conceal the knot in her spine, although it had done nothing for the constant dull ache.

She wasn’t sure how suited she was to the dress, but Raif’s smouldering gaze when she followed Saphi into the reception area had told her all she needed to know about what he thought of it.

“You look beautiful,” he said, removing his hands from his pockets and moving away from the door frame.

So did he. His black hair was tied back, and he wore a black jacket with silver—no, pale blue stitching, in the same shade as her dress, and black trousers to match. She’d never seen him so dressed up.

“Where did you say we’re going tonight?” Zylah asked, resisting the urge to fidget with her dress. The floor-length skirt was slit up to the thigh on both legs, so it was impossible to walk without exposing her pale skin. The back was entirely open from the bottom of the hood piece to the low scoop of the silk, edged in more of the delicate lace at her waist. The front wasn’t much better; it cut low between her breasts, the torso almost entirely lace before flowing seamlessly into the silk of the skirt. She hadn’t wanted to explain to Saphi that it was the most daring thing she’d ever worn. Instead, she’d told herself to seize the opportunity of wearing something so bold.

“I didn’t,” Raif finally said, dragging his gaze lazily down her body as Saphi and Rose said their goodbyes. Zylah mumbled something in response, her attention fixed on Raif as he took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. His lips were soft and warm, and he looked up through his dark lashes and winked. “Insufferable, right?” He took her arm and looped it through his as they stepped out into the night.

Zylah swallowed, heat racing through her despite the cool air. “Right.” Saphi had given her a pair of grey silk slippers to wear. Had she been given more time, she’d insisted, she could have ‘prepared’ Zylah for shoes with a raised heel, something which Zylah thought looked more like a weapon than something to walk in.

She absentmindedly smoothed a hand over her thigh, aware of how little the dress left to the imagination. She’d been surprised to see herself in a full-length mirror, to see just how much muscle had built up in the short time she’d been training with Holt. Her stomach was firmer, her upper arms had built up from the training and lifting boxes at the gardens, and her thighs were more toned.Strong, she’d thought, as she’d looked at her reflection; she looked stronger.

Raif wrapped an arm around her waist as they walked, his fingers resting against silk and his thumb against the exposed skin of her back. His touch was warm and gentle, and Zylah fought back a dozen questions for him. She was intent on just enjoying the moment, which was proving rather difficult in her current footwear.

The slippers weren’t all Saphi had given her. The Fae had insisted Zylah’s bralette wouldn’t work with the dress, and she’d been right. Instead, she’d offered Zylah a scrap of lace, several sizes smaller than Zylah would have preferred, but it did what it needed, and it worked beneath the fine dress far better than her bralette did. Saphi had pinned up her hair, too, creating a few soft curls to frame her face.

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