Page 85 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

She ran a hand through the unfamiliar shade of her hair—bright red, chosen by Saphi—and pale blue eyes. Zylah had been taking lessons from Saphi in how to achieve these small deceits, but tonight she’d let the Fae carry out the task. They couldn’t risk Arnir recognising her, and looking at her reflection in the mirror, Zylah barely recognised herself with her red hair falling over her shoulders in loose waves. Tonight they’d be taking down the kingandhis puppet; only her friends didn’t know that yet. They didn’t know it was them she was doing it for. Because she knew that if Marcus was allowed to live after Arnir died, Raif and Rose, Holt, and Saphi, would all be answering to Marcus. Even Jilah and the children. They all would. And she’d seen his power. What she was counting on was that he wouldn’t risk using it at the festival, wouldn’t risk showing up the king in such a public setting.

Zylah adjusted her blade, sheathed against her thigh, just in case. Whilst Raif took down Arnir, she and Asha would take on Marcus. She didn’t have the luxury of hiding copious weapons beneath her dress, but Asha had confirmed weapons would be easy to conceal on his person. Weapons that Zylah had made sure were heavily poisoned.

Like all the Fae outfits Zylah had so far encountered, this dress left little to the imagination. The lace bralette was cut low, the fabric of the dress even lower so that the lace was exposed. It skimmed over every inch of her body like a second skin, pooling slightly at the hem into a small train. It was sleeveless, only the straps of the bralette on display, but naturally, Saphi had chosen a set that looked as if it were part of the dress. One side had a slit almost up to the lower thigh, and just above that was where she had strapped her weapon. A hastily whispered deceit had been enough to conceal the outline of the strap beneath the dress. The blade was small, no longer than her hand and as thin as a pencil. But it was all she would need. Threaded through her arms and across her back Zylah wore a shawl in the same liquid silver fabric.

Hushed voices whispered to each other outside the door to Raif’s bedroom, pulling Zylah from her thoughts.

“I saw our mother.” It was Rose.

“That’s not possible,” Raif replied.

“I know what I saw, Raif. She’s alive.”

Zylah didn’t know enough of Rose’s visions to know how accurate they were, or whether the Fae could see the past. But it sounded as if she were speaking of the present. She kept her focus on her reflection in the mirror, adjusting her shawl over her shoulders and then pulling it back down to where it was before.

The door swung open, and Raif stood alone in the doorway, hands in his pockets as his gaze roved slowly over Zylah in the mirror. “I think we need to make these festivals a weekly thing.”

He wore a silver-grey suit, a few shades darker than her dress, his hair tied up and neat, rounded ears on display.

“Making a demonstration of your humanness, are you?” Zylah asked, reaching a hand up to touch an ear. With the deceit, they felt round, like human ears. Magic was incredible.

Raif captured her hand with his, pressing his face into her palm. “I’ll demonstrate anything you like if you’ll say it again.”

Zylah rolled her eyes with a smile. In the few days since she’d agreed to stay, he’d wanted to hear her say it, over and over. “Insufferable,” she murmured, looking up into his eyes as he wrapped his free arm around her and held her close. Heat bloomed low in her belly, and one of Raif’s dimples made an appearance as the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. He moved her hand to sit over his heart and held it there, waiting.

“I’m staying,” Zylah whispered, her eyes drifting to his lips.

His mouth was on hers at once, his tongue sweeping across hers. She’d told him she was staying. But she hadn’t told him the words she’d decided would be kindernotto tell him if she was leaving. She’d never said those words to anyone.

A knock sounded on the door. “Come on, you two, we can’t be late.” Zylah stepped back from Raif’s embrace to see Saphi beaming at them.

Kopi flitted between Zylah’s shoulder and the surrounding rooftops as the four of them made their way through the streets. The citizens of Virian were out in full, countless flower crowns already trodden into the cobblestones at their feet. Drums were beating somewhere in the distance, each strike echoing in Zylah’s heart. Raif, Rose and Saphi seemed unfazed. They all knew what they had to do tonight to get Raif close to Arnir, where they were meant to be, and what part they had to play.

Zylah had overheard snippets of other plans involving different members of the uprising and Arnir’s elite unit. Her role tonight was in her job at the botanical gardens, and she said a few silent words to Pallia that she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone about the sun lilies she’d prepared for the king.

They made their way past the gardens, where they would no doubt be celebrating later that evening, until they reached the wall of the palace district. This area of the city was usually kept closed to citizens, but not tonight. Tonight the doors were wide open, entertainers and revellers alike pouring through them to the lush green area beyond. The sun was setting, and floating lanterns drifted across the expanse before them, the palace illuminated with orblights and mirrors, the white marble glowing orange like the sun.

A wide path lined with trees led to the palace, in the centre of which, a troupe of dancers weaved their way through the crowd. It was another play, Zylah realised, like the one at the botanical gardens a few nights before. There were nine dancers, one with a toy owl pinned to her shoulder, and at once, Zylah knew they were meant to be the gods. The original nine. This was what Saphi had spoken of.

Kopi had flown on ahead into the trees, and for once Zylah was grateful that he was out of sight. Raif’s hand was warm around hers as they made their way amongst the dancers, but Zylah couldn’t take her eyes off their performance.

The gods danced hand in hand, around and around until two of them broke away, the drums from earlier beating, metal sheets clashing together to mimic the sound of thunder. More dancers ran amongst the crowds waving black ribbons, swirling and snaking around the revellers.

The two gods that had broken away pulled horned masks from somewhere among the crowd, the black ribbons weaving around them and binding them together. When they parted, more dancers emerged between them, dressed in tattered black rags and wearing more of the ghoulish masks. Some had fur attached to their faces, some had fangs like wolves.

The gods had used dark magic to make servants and sentinels and all kinds of atrocities, Raif had told her a few months before. She came to a stop amongst the crowd, watching transfixed as theatrocitiesattacked the dancers with the ribbons, and the seven other gods rushed in to help.

“The ones with the fangs were called vampires. They were meant to feed on humans, but when they started feeding on Fae, Ranon and Sira realised the severity of their mistake.” Raif pulled her closer as they watched.

The seven gods worked together until the atrocities were defeated, but Ranon and Sira fled amongst the crowd, nowhere to be seen. Zylah felt a chill watching the gods disperse, the crowd cheering and whistling as the drums and the music faded. Only they weren’t gods, she reminded herself. They were Fae.

Raif shifted his hand to her back, ushering her forwards.

“What happened to them?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Hmm?”

“Ranon and Sira, the two gods, the Fae who broke away. What happened to them?”

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