Page 87 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

Zylah stretched up onto her toes to try and see across the crowd, and for the first time, she caught sight of the uniform of Arnir’s elite unit. Instinctively she fell back to the balls of her feet, positioning herself out of sight of the one she’d spotted. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and cleared her throat.They won’t recognise you like this.She hoped to Pallia that was the truth.

Raif pressed a hand to her back, rubbing soothing circles as if he’d heard her thundering heart. They probably all had. Saphi launched into a description of the dancers they’d seen on their way in, questioning Holt on what the best entertainment of the evening had been so far, but Zylah was focusing on her breathing. On making her breaths even and steady.

She looked around the courtyard as discreetly as she could, counting guards. Five, and that was only as far as she could see—Zylah pressed a hand to her stomach and froze.

“Liss?” Raif asked beside her, his reassuring warmth pressing against her side.

“Zack,” she whispered. “My brother is here.” Her brother, the King’s Blade, stood talking with an elderly man, laughing at something the human had said.

Holt followed her gaze and glanced back at her. “Look at me,” he said calmly.

Zylah forced herself to look away from her brother and met Holt’s eyes.

His eyebrows pinched together for a moment. “You know his position. He had to be here. For tonight, it might be best to stay out of his sight. You can visit him after. Agreed?”

After Arnir is dead.Holt didn’t need to say it. But there were too many Fae in the palace grounds, too many members of the uprising. Zylah looked into Holt’s eyes, silently praying to the gods he would tell the truth. “Do I have your word he’ll walk out of here tonight?”

“I swear it. Now let’s keep moving.”

Zylah looked back one more time at her brother and swallowed. She wanted to push through the crowd and run to him. Throw her arms around his neck and ask how he was. How their father was. But she couldn’t. Not yet.After, she told herself.

Holt was already moving through the crowd, Rose and Saphi beside him as if they were simply there to enjoy the evening. Zylah drew in a shaky breath and released it through pursed lips. She didn’t even want to think of how Asha would find his way in, of where he was in the palace at that precise moment. But she knew he’d be there.

Zylah focused on the flowerbed as they made their way through the courtyard, admiring the Bloom florist’s display. The roses were white, to begin with, but as they made their way further into the courtyard, creams and pale yellows were dotted through them, getting brighter and brighter the further across the courtyard they walked until they were gold, the white roses replaced with purple ones.

String instruments played a lively melody from somewhere under one of the ivy trellises, and dancers weaved in and out of the crowd with gold and purple ribbons. For once, Zylah didn’t feel like her outfit was out of place as they eased past countless purple and gold gowns, most likely worn in an attempt to impress the king. Zylah had no doubt Saphi had picked out the silver dress as an act of rebellion, and she smiled at the thought.

But her relief was short-lived. They were reaching the end of the courtyard, and the guards had doubled. She placed her untouched glass on a passing waiter’s tray and twisted her cold fingers over themselves. Every instinct told her to leave, to evanesce away from there. But she had to face him.

They reached her sun lilies, and she might have taken a moment to admire her work if not for the fact that at the end of the flowerbed a small staircase stretched up to the doors of the palace, and before the doors sat King Arnir.

He sat on a throne draped in purple and gold fabric, and Zylah had to force herself not to stare, to keep her gaze fixed on the sun lilies. It was difficult to swallow as she gazed at the golden flowers. The Bloom florist had arranged them, and Zylah tried to appreciate his work as she willed herself not to fidget.

Still no sign of Asha. But there had been no sign of Marcus either. She was vaguely aware of Rose and Saphi departing through the crowd, and a third voice joined Holt and Raif behind her.

Zylah turned to the voice she recognised. “Ambrose.” The king’s representative from their meeting at the Pig’s Tail… and the attack that followed.

“Good evening,” Ambrose said with a smile.

How much of the plan did he know? Were there more of Arnir’s guards working with them? Her brother, perhaps, but Zylah didn’t let herself hold onto that hope, not yet. She looked from Ambrose to Holt. “He works for you.”

Holt dipped his chin almost imperceptibly. Of course, he’d never admit it here. Zylah wondered if Raif had known when they went to meet Ambrose.

“Ready for your introductions?” Ambrose’s eyes sparkled under the orblights.

Raif hooked Zylah’s arm through his. It was too soon. Asha wouldn’t have found Marcus yet. But she couldn’t stall them, for fear it might draw attention.

Her throat was so dry, all she could manage was a nod.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Raif murmured beside her.

Ambrose made his way up a few steps, bowing low to the king before speaking into his counsel’s ear.

The counsel nodded, casting his gaze over Raif and Zylah. Holt had moved away from them, but Zylah didn’t dare look behind her into the crowd.

Seven gods.

She kept her head low, looking through her lashes. King Arnir nodded, beckoning for them to approach. They walked a few steps, pausing halfway to bow before the man who’d tried to have her hanged. Raif had released her arm, one of his hands held behind his back, the other at his side, waiting.

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