Page 80 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

“That we need to excuse ourselves for a moment to discuss business,” Raif said with a wink in Zylah’s direction.

“Good to see you, Rose,” Holt just had time to say, before Raif ushered him away, leaving Zylah standing alone beside her. Zylah watched the two males leave, Raif roaring at something Holt had said.

“It isn’t right, you know,” Rose said quietly beside her. “To be with one of them when you want the other.”

Zylah wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s none of your business.” Guilt prickled beneath her skin as she fought for an explanation. Holt was her friend. He’d made that perfectly clear. Raif was good and kind. And she knew how she felt about him. Had known it for a while now, and it made it all the more difficult to leave. But she’d been afraid—afraid after what happened with Jesper. The running. Not knowing if she could stop. That if she let herself love something—someone—it would be taken away from her, as punishment for what she’d done.

“I know what it’s like to have someone love you so much and to not return it.” Rose placed a hand on Zylah’s arm. “To hate yourself for not returning it.”

“That’s not—I don’t—”

“There you are!” It was Saphi. Zylah spotted Asha amongst the crowd and didn’t want to miss another opportunity to speak with him; there was no use trying to convince Rose of her feelings for Raif. Besides, that was a conversation she needed to have with him before she left. She just hadn’t decided yet if it was kinder not to.

Saphi pressed a finger to Zylah’s necklace. “Beautiful, isn’t it Rose?”

Rose said nothing.

“Raif gave it to me,” Zylah said.

Saphi smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind Zylah’s ear. “We know. He asked us if we thought you’d like it. Come on, let’s go and dance.”

“I’ll be right over. There’s someone I’d like to speak to first.” Zylah flicked her chin in Asha’s direction and Saphi nodded in understanding. It needed no explanation, and without another word, Zylah made her way over to Asha’s table. Kopi flew down to her shoulder as she weaved through the crowd. “Hey, buddy,” she whispered as he ruffled his feathers. Despite his sharp little claws, he never once scraped her skin. Zylah supposed since he was so tiny, it didn’t take much effort for him to stay upright.

“What does Kopi think of the party?” Asha asked as Zylah approached his table.

Zylah gave Kopi a scratch on his head, grateful that the little owl had given her something to talk about. “I think he’s wondering when everyone will leave him to his gardens in peace.”

“Interesting.” Asha turned his attention back to a pair of dancers.

There was so much Zylah wanted to say about Mala. That she was sorry she hadn’t made it in time. That she hadn’t brought her back to him sooner. That he didn’t get to say goodbye. But the words seemed to tie themselves around the tip of her tongue. Nothing she could say would bring Mala back, she knew that.

They watched the dancers; two had strings with tiny orblights on the end that reminded Zylah of sprites when they moved. The dancers were telling a story, she realised, as others joined them, the sprites circling around the newcomers. Saphi had told her the dancers traditionally told tales of Fae history, and that at Arnir’s festival it was another way he’d spat on their culture by having dancers tell the human version of events. This year, they’d planned something different, Saphi had promised her.

“I heard the sprites helped you protect Mala,” Asha said, breaking their silence. “Did you know they’re older than the first Fae?”

Zylah didn’t know that. “Is that the story they’re telling here?”

“This is the story of how they saved Imala.” His voice caught on the word save, and Zylah wanted desperately for him to know she’d done all she could, but even she questioned whether that was the truth of it. She should have tried to evanesce Mala away sooner. Should have risked it.

“They gave Imala her freedom, and this is why we celebrate. This festival is aboutourfreedom.”

Zylah looked at the Fae around her. Laughing, dancing. Fighting for something. Even being there at the party was an act of rebellion. She didn’t belong with them, no matter how much she wanted to; she barely knew her own history.

Asha looked up at Zylah, before inspecting the contents of his glass. “They tell me you’re leaving next week.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“To see the world. To find out where I came from. To discover where I belong.”

The faerie finished the last of his wine. “Mala and I moved around a lot over the years. For most of it, we were alone, and I was content. But Mala said it was time to stop running. To stop searching for something that was right in front of us the whole time, even if it was broken, that it was up to us to help fix it.” He toyed with Mala’s bracelet as he spoke, and then looked up to meet Zylah’s gaze. “Here is where you came from. Here is where you belong.”

Zylah opened her mouth to speak, but Asha added, “Your work has not gone unnoticed. Don’t underestimate how much your actions have contributed to mending what’s broken.”

She knew he didn’t just mean the poultices and the healing, but all Zylah could see when she closed her eyes were the fragments of Mala’s broken wings. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring her back in time for you to say goodbye.”

“You brought her back to me. That’s all that matters.”

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