Page 7 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

She knelt beside the reed closest to her, her hands pressing into the moss at her feet, the loose cuff dragging beside her. The morning dew had collected along the curve of the reed in perfect droplets and would be a far safer option for her to drink than risking the jewel-blue water.

The droplets trickled down her lips, cool against the burn in her throat. It was the cleanest water she’d drunk since this whole mess began, and she almost shed a tear at the freshness of it. Water might be hard to come by in the days ahead, and already her mind was playing over ways she might be able to contain it without a vessel.

Her stomach grumbled, moving her thoughts onto other pressing matters. She’d never eaten moss before, but it was harmless and better than nothing. She tugged at a handful, shoving it in her mouth without hesitation before she had time to consider the taste. It wasn’t too bad, but it scraped against her fragile throat. A little bit like seaweed, but chewier.

She shoved another handful into her apron out of habit from working in her father’s apothecary before pushing herself to her feet.

Stories of water sprites tugged at her memories again as she looked out at the expanse of blue. None of it made sense. The travelling. She’d never heard of anyone with such an ability. They were probably calling her all kinds of names back in Dalstead. Fae. Witch. Sprite. If the guard hadn’t seen her at the beacon, she might have been safe for a while, but she knew it would be foolish to risk more than another day here.

If Kara were smart, she’d have left the moment Zylah disappeared from the gallows. Zylah hoped that’s what had happened, for her friend’s sake. And her father… Zack’s position would protect him, wouldn’t it? She took in a deep breath of the steamy air, testing the feel of it against her throat. If only she had some honey and alea blossom to soothe the pain.

She should keep moving, shouldn’t stop to indulge herself in a bath, but the warm water would help ease her aches, could help her keep mobile for a little while longer. The azure water seemed to beckon to Zylah, whispering to her to cocoon herself in its warmth. She wrapped the loose cuff and chain around her wrist, removing her apron and the rest of her clothes as best she could with her free hand. The movement opened up some of the cuts on her cuffed wrist, and she winced in pain, eager to dip into the water. If anything or anyone came near, she’d hear them first. At least, she hoped she would.

The cliff face reached up behind her, the water stretched out ahead of her. To her left, the rock shielded her from the open, jutting right out into the water. But to the right, the rock could be traversed by anyone light-footed and steady enough. Anyone with the will to reach her part of the shore.

Zylah paused, ears pricked for any sounds out of the ordinary. Water lapped against the rocks. A bird called out from somewhere above. But everything else was as eerily quiet as it had been the night before. A shiver traced its way down her spine, and she carefully stepped down to the water’s edge.

She stared back at her reflection, at her tired violet eyes and her wild hair. The undeniable line of the rope mark at her throat, her black eye and her split lip. It was enough to shake off her hesitation. She stepped into the water, sighing with satisfaction as the warmth swirled around her.

Zylah closed her eyes, let herself be held by the soothing water, and bit back the tears that burned her eyes.You survived. Don’t give up now.A single sob shook her shoulders, but she held her hand to her mouth to keep herself in check.You can do this.

She rubbed at the dried blood on her wrists, the water muddying a little as she worked gently at her pale skin. Once she was dry, she would pack moss between her wrist and the remaining cuff to protect herself from more damage. Simple, logical thoughts about each step she had to take kept her tears at bay, stopping the fear that had firmly taken root in her heart from spreading.

Her aches began to ease, and she let herself think further ahead than the moment. Where did escaped convicts go? She could cover the rope wounds easily enough, but the remaining cuff was going to be a problem if she couldn’t remove it.

She sank her shoulders beneath the warm water; the air still had a bite to it, and she was eager to soak up the warmth. Steam swirled above the surface, and with the grey sky, she couldn’t see far. Only blue water and a few small rocks ahead, the odd pampa reed poking out here and there.

Every time she thought she had a grasp on her panic, that sense of dread seemed to work its way under her skin again.An escaped convict on the run.She wouldn’t get far before someone turned her in for a handsome finder’s fee. She’d seen enough bounty hunters pass in and out of the palace to know they’d be after her soon enough.

Zylah held her breath and submerged herself. She kept her eyes open, wary that any animal returning to the cave might sneak up on her, but of course, there was nothing in the clear water. Nothing but the sound of her heartbeat, and the feel of the warm liquid between her fingertips as her hair swirled around her.

And a shape, forming in the blue. Zylah blinked once, twice. A translucent figure began to appear.

She shot up out of the water, wiping her hands across her eyes to clear her vision. Nothing. Of course there was nothing. But she didn’t need a second warning. She climbed out of the water, grabbed her clothes and another handful of moss, and padded back to her cave, the root of fear spreading deeper.It was nothing.And yet, she couldn’t help the shiver that danced down her spine.

The stories of sprites played on repeat as she dressed and chewed at her moss. She pulled on her apron as best she could and slipped her feet into her shoes one by one, her thoughts darting between the water sprites and what she was going to do next. The lump in her back had become an acute pain, and something seemed to pull at her insides.Hold it together, Zy.

When she looked up, a young man stood before her, and she fought back an alarmed squeak. Only he couldn’t have been a man, because he had the beauty of a god and the preternatural silence of one. Raw, ancient power seemed to roll off of him, and yet she hadn’t heard him approach, which was, well, impossible. She’d have heard anyone come anywhere near her cave. Zylah held her breath as the man bit into a brin fruit, his brow furrowed as if he were thinking her situation over.

Shit.She was blocked in. Even if she could slip past him and outrun him, which, with someone else, might have been possible, she already knew that with him there would be no chance. She exhaled through her nostrils, willing her heartbeat to steady, determined that her fear wouldn’t show to the god before her, assuming he couldn’t somehow sense it already.

He wiped a sleeve at the brin juice that rolled down his chin and folded his arms across his chest. Gods, the brin fruit looked good. And it would feel so much better than the scrape of the moss on her throat. The god caught her eyeing his snack and gently tossed it towards her.

She caught it instinctively, silently chastising herself for letting her guard slip, but the man didn’t make a run for her. Just folded his arms across his chest again and watched her. Zylah took a bite of the brin fruit and tried not to moan. She pictured the way the outside of the cave looked while she chewed, the cut of the cliff, the space at the end of the rocks that she could travel to, looking within herself for enough energy to do it. What she was looking for, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t about to take her chances with the silent god.

His dark hair was dripping wet, and he ran a bronzed hand through it as he watched her, his forest-green eyes bright and inquisitive. Was this his attempt to unnerve her? To be silent until she spoke and confessed her situation? She wouldn’t break. She’d played this game with her brother many times as a child. She’d always won.

It wasn’t the only game she’d played with her brother, and Zylah had learnt the hard way that often the only way to win was to switch up the rules. She took the last bite of the brin fruit, turned to throw it into the darkness of the cave behind her, and pulled on whatever force it was that allowed her to travel. It was energy, neither hot nor cold, but she felt it flow beneath her skin as she called on it.

When the world came back into focus, she was out of the cave and away from the god, the brin fruit and moss in her stomach turning over themselves. She looked ahead and could just make out a line of trees before the fog thickened, and willed herself to travel to them.

The world went dark for a second before she reappeared beside the trees, and a warm hand clamped down on her shoulder. Every muscle in her body tightened. She’d been a fool to think she could outrun a god, but still, she ducked down from his grasp and swung the loose cuff behind his knees as hard as she could.

With an inhuman speed she’d never hope to match, he grabbed the cuff, wrapped the chain around his wrist and pulled her towards him, the air escaping from her throat in awhoosh.

Zylah pressed a hand to his hard chest to put distance between them, his shirt wet against his skin, the faint scent of earthy acani berries drifting from him.

“I’ll kill you,” she breathed, pushing a stick against his ribs. It was all she’d been able to reach when she’d ducked.

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