Page 89 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

“What happened?”

“I think we’d all like to know what the fuck just happened.” Zylah looked up to see Rose beside Holt and Saphi. Holt must have evanesced them in. Rose had her arms folded across her chest, waiting for an answer.

“The throne,” Zylah whispered again. Asha. She had to get to Asha. She reached for her blade, sliding it back into its sheath as she pushed to her feet. “I need to go back for Asha.”

“What was he doing there, Liss, and again, what the fuck just happened? Do you have any idea how long this took to plan? How many Fae died for this, for tonight?” Rose took a step closer with each question until she was close enough to stab a finger into Zylah’s chest. Her eyes narrowed, and it was the same expression Zylah had seen on Raif’s face moments before.

“Rose, that’s enough.” Holt swiped Rose’s hand away, waiting until she took a step back. “The throne was made of vanquicite. If Raif had laid a hand on Arnir, every guard in there would have jumped him.”

Zylah pressed a hand to her stomach again. “My—” She cleared her throat. “My brother saw my blade. It’s poisoned, I couldn’t…” If she could just see Zack for a moment. If she could just explain, smooth things over.And say what?“I need to go back for Asha.”

“Why was Asha there?” Raif asked. He hadn’t touched her since she’d risen to her feet. His eyes had darkened, and he mirrored his sister’s pose, arms folded across his chest.

Guilt settled in Zylah’s stomach. She looked at Raif, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “He was there for Marcus.” She tore off the silver circlet, feeling a fool in her dress. “I poisoned Asha’s blades. While you took out Arnir, Asha was going to take out Marcus.”

Saphi whistled. “Poisoned blade. A fitting death for that bastard.”

Zylah thought so, but she wasn’t about to agree with Saphi. Not when the air was so thick she could almost slice through it with her blade. She needed to get out of her dress. Get to the tunnels. That’s where Marcus would have taken Asha.

“The vanquicite must be how he keeps Marcus under his thumb. I should have known.” Holt dragged a hand through his hair. “Marcus had the cuffs. If Liss hadn’t noticed the throne was made of vanquicite, we might not all be standing here right now.”

Rose took another step closer. “How could you evanesce so close to that much vanquicite?”

“You’re the seer. You tell me.” Zylah took a step towards Rose, her whole body tensing. She had no idea how or why she could evanesce near the throne. It had been the same with Holt and the cuffs. If she was touching them, nothing. But with no contact, she’d been able to evanesce him out of the tunnels. She held Rose’s stare, refusing to back down. She might have messed up with Asha, but she’d got Raif out of there.

“That’s enough.” Holt stepped between them. “She just saved your brother’s life. You might want to thank her instead of getting ready to swing at her.” He gestured to Rose’s hand, curled into a fist at her side. Then he turned to Zylah. “We can’t go back for Asha tonight. After you left, everything was chaos. They’ll be packing up Arnir and already on their way back to Dalstead, and the guards will be on high alert. Looking for Asha now would not be wise.”

He didn’t need to say why. Zylah didn’t want to think of what Marcus could have done to Asha in the few minutes since they’d left.

“He won’t kill him,” Holt said, searching her face. “He’ll question him for as long as he can. I’ll go as soon as the guard reduces.”

Zylah began to speak but thought better of it. She looked at Raif, but he still wouldn’t meet her gaze. There wasn’t time to wait for the guard to reduce. Marcus wouldn’t wait.

Holt looked at each of them, his cool façade back in place. “Everybody get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“I’ll be at the tavern,” Zylah murmured, before evanescing herself back to her room. But she had no intention of staying there. She changed her clothes, slid her dagger into her boot and evanesced to the tunnels, searching for any sign of Asha and Marcus.

But they weren’t there.

Three days passed. She’d spent the entire night searching the tunnels but had come across nothing more than a few sewer rats. Holt had given her an update each morning; there had been no sign of Asha. Or Marcus.

Zylah hadn’t been back to the safe house, and Raif hadn’t come to meet her after work. She doubted that would change after she finished off for the day. A butterfly landed on a celandia, azure wings fluttering delicately, and Zylah loosed a sigh. She’d seen Raif’s reaction, the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes. He was angry. Disappointed. Just like Rose was.

Asha had gone to seek out Marcus willingly… but only because Zylah had asked him. And Pallia only knew what Marcus would be doing to him for information. Asha would never speak. He’d go to his grave protecting his people, and the thought made bile rise in Zylah’s throat, not for the first time that day.

She raked over the last of the soil where the sun lilies had been, preparing it for something new. Jilah waved at her from the far end of the dome, his signal that it was time to go home. He hadn’t been at the festival, but he’d heard what had happened. And he’d been kind to her. “You and Raif are still with us,” was all he’d said. But she’d felt his disappointment. Arnir was still alive, and the children were still hiding who they were. Still hiding in plain sight.

Kopi flew down to Zylah’s shoulder just as she pulled on her cloak to leave. It was far too hot for it, but she couldn’t be without it now. The little owl gave a quiethooin greeting and Zylah sighed. “I know, buddy. I have to face them at some point.” She had to deal with Raif and the others and knew all she’d been doing was putting off the inevitable argument. Better to get it over with.

She walked to the safe house rather than evanescing there, working through her thoughts. If she couldn’t fix things here, maybe she could fix things with her brother. Either way, she needed to try.

She stepped over discarded flower crowns as she made her way across the river—this part of the city hadn’t been cleaned up yet, partly, Zylah assumed, because the citizens were disappointed that the festival had been cut short. She reached the door to the safe house and drew in a deep breath.

Zylah cleared her throat and knocked once.

Raif opened the door, and before Zylah had a chance to speak, he pulled her into an embrace. “I’m sorry,” he breathed into her hair.

Zylah frowned against his shirt. “I thought you were angry with me?” she murmured against his chest.

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