Page 74 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

Raif was waiting for her when she arrived at the gardens. It didn’t surprise her if Holt was back in the city.

“Let me guess, boss’s orders?” she asked as she approached him, brushing the canna crumbs from her fingers against her apron. It was getting far too warm to wear the cloak, but her posters were still plastered all over the city; fresh ones seemed to appear in waves whenever the old ones were covered up or worn away. Raif had bought her a new pair of tinted eyeglasses after the night at the Pig’s Tail, and out of habit she pushed them up her nose with a finger.

Raif hadn’t shown up at the gardens in weeks, which could only mean Holt had asked him to stop by. “How did you know?” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, looping his other arm around her waist and steered her into the goods entrance.

“He left me a canna cake this morning.” Zylah leaned into Raif’s warmth. She could fall asleep if she let herself, and she knew she’d need an hour or two working the colder dome before she could tend to the sun lilies in the arid dome later on.

“Jilah won’t mind if you take a nap in the grotto,” Raif said as if she’d slumped against him just a little too heavily.

Zylah straightened. “I’m fine.” She knelt to inspect one of the delivery boxes:worms. They aerated the soil and kept it healthy, and she needed them for the sun lilies. She might have known a lot about the uses of plants before she’d arrived in Virian, but she hadn’t known all that much about keeping them alive. Jilah had been patient with her, teaching her how to look for signs of mould and rot, how to take cuttings and propagate new plants. She’d even started growing the ingredients for the poultices in the cooler dome, not that there would be enough for months to come, but that she now knew she could grow from cuttings or seeds, take that plant and turn it into a poultice, that filled her with a sense of pride she often longed to tell her father about.

The box was heavier than she’d expected, and Raif took it from her arms as she rose to her feet. “Maybe we should take a break from training tonight. Rest. I could read you a book,” he suggested as his fingers brushed hers.

Zylah smiled up at him, her head tilted to one side. “That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“I mean it, Liss. You’re exhausted. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I know you’re worried about things going right at the festival, but we’ve got it under control. Everything’s going to plan.”

She knew it was the sleep deprivation, but a wave of irrational anger bubbled up inside her. “To plan? You might have spent time training me every day and bedding me every night, but you still haven’t taught me any more about magic. Why is that, Raif? Because you like everything to be nice and neat? To keep everything under control, even me?”

His face crumpled for a moment before he had a chance to hide it. But she’d seen the words hit their mark. She knew she should have felt guilty, but she was too exhausted.

“Fae powers are taxing, Liss. You’re already working yourself to exhaustion, I didn’t want to add to that.”

“That wasn’t for you to decide. I know my limits.” Limits she’d taught herself from hours of training in the tunnels. Alone.

Raif put the box down and rested a hand on her arm, but she shook him away. “Do you? Have you seen the shadows under your eyes? Have you noticed how our training sessions are getting shorter and shorter?”

She had noticed. Both of those things. Although the latter had usually ended because they’d been distracted in other ways—although maybe he’d been doing that on purpose.

Anger shoved the guilt further and further down. Zylah twisted her fingers into her apron. “I see; lure me to bed in the hopes that I’ll fall asleep. So that’s what we’ve really been doing every night. Damage control.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, I—” His voice caught and he pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her waist. “I care about you a lot, Liss. I didn’t want to push you. To do anything.”

Cocooned in his embrace, she instantly regretted her words. Seven gods, what was she thinking? She needed to sleep. But Arnir’s representatives were coming to check on the sun lilies today. That was probably why Raif had shown up.

She took his hand and led him behind the waterfall, out of earshot of any patrons wandering in. She ran a hand over her hair and realised her braid was a mess. She paced, focusing on the feeling of fixing her hair as she thought about what she wanted to say. Water cascaded down beyond them, the air heavy with the smell of wet rock.

Raif leant back against the railing watching her, his walls already back in place.I care about you a lot. She cared for him too. More than she’d wanted to admit to herself. But today was the most vulnerable he’d been with her since the night with the Black Veil.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see them. Mala. The members of the Black Veil.” It wasn’t all she saw. Memories of Jesper still lingered.

Raif took a step closer. “They all knew what they were getting into, Liss. Mala included.” He rested his hands over hers where she was finishing her braid, took the hair fastening from her fingers and fixed it around the end for her.

His gaze slid to hers.I care about you a lot. She knew it was a front. The humour, the insufferable ways. But right now, none of that was what she needed. She needed to know things were going to be okay.

“I’m sorry for what I said before.” She looked up at him, his eyes still fixed on hers as he wrapped her braid around his hand and tugged gently, pulling her close to him.

Raif’s arm slid around her waist, pressing her to him again. It was as if he didn’t want to let her go today, and she wondered if that was his way of letting her in. “It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping to her lips. He held her close, so she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. He was waiting, she thought, waiting for her to decide what she wanted.

She reached a hand up to his chest and swallowed. Her throat felt like sandpaper. “Back in Dalstead, with the prince,” she began.

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” he murmured.

“No, I want you to know.” Zylah felt his heartbeat beneath her hand, firm and steady. Her brow pinched together as she searched for the right words, for where to begin.

Someone cleared their throat behind them and Zylah instinctively took a step back.

“Liss.” It was Jilah. “Arnir’s men are here,” the old man said, scratching at his neck and looking anywhere but at the two of them.

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