Page 92 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

Cal pulled a sack over her head, and something hard hit her across the face. A fist, maybe. Zylah staggered back. She’d taken enough fists to the face in her training, but her brother still called out.

“Don’t hurt her, she’s going willingly,” Zack said, his voice marking him as closer than he had been a few moments before.

“Not in much of a position to make requests there, son,” the archer said. “Cuff him.”

“He’s human,” Zylah said, her breath hot inside the sack. It reeked of horse and rotten potatoes, and Zylah could only see enough through it to make out where each body was positioned in the room.

“Doesn’t matter,” Cal grumbled. “Cuffs are cuffs.” Another pair of cuffs clicked shut, followed by the sound of a sack being pulled over Zack’s head. The archer’s bow creaked, and she knew he’d finally put the arrow away.

“Our father,” Zylah pleaded. “He needs a proper burial.”

“Cremations are faster,” the archer said flatly.

Zack sucked in a breath. “Please, let the villagers bury him beside our mother.”

“Now, now, Little Blade. What did I say about making requests?” the archer taunted as he grabbed Zylah’s arm and shoved her through the doorway. “Sunrise, Cal. Don’t be late.” They were splitting up. But Zylah didn’t let her rising panic take over. She was focusing on Zack, on any sound that would let her know what they were doing with him.

A match struck, and then another and another.

“No!” Zylah pleaded. “Zack?”

“I’m alright, Zylah.”

They were torching the cottage. Zylah could already smell burning cloth as the archer shoved her outside. The smell of warm rain hung in the air, but it wasn’t enough to cover what was drifting from her home.

A hinge creaked. “Get in.” The archer shoved her against a rough platform. The back of a cart.

She hauled herself up as best she could with her bound hands, and the tailgate slammed shut behind her. Only once she was inside the cart could she hear the huffing of the horses, the scraping of their hooves impatiently against the dirt. “It’s spelled,” she murmured. She was alone. “Zack!” she cried out. “Zack!” But he wouldn’t be able to hear her over the spell.

She could still smell the burning cottage. Could hear the crack and pop of wood, and she scrambled to her knees to try and see out the patches of the canopy where the light filtered through. But she saw nothing but the weave of the sack over her head.

She lost her balance as the cart pulled away, smoke clinging to the sack even when she knew the cottage must be long out of sight. Zylah slumped against the side of the cart, her head throbbing and her ears ringing. She wasn’t sure if it was the effects of the cuffs or the spell, and she reached up to yank at the sack, but it was no use, Cal must have fastened it.

Her father was gone. But no tears came. She could still find a way out. Could still find Zack.And then what?He couldn’t work for the king anymore, not after this. He’d be hanged. No, she’d have to evanesce him somewhere far away from here. Maybe he wouldn’t want to go with her.You’re not really my sister. But he’d tried to protect her. Tried to tell her to leave.

She couldn’t go back to Virian for help either, even though she knew Raif would help her, no matter what Rose had told her. She’d seen it in his face right before she evanesced.

Zylah hadn’t just lost her father. She could never see Raif and her friends again.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Zylah wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep. But when she woke up, she was no longer in the cart, and there was no longer a sack over her head. Her bracers and boots had been removed, both of which had held her only weapons. But she was still clothed. She patted her apron, the cuffs still tight at her wrists. Aside from the bruise throbbing on her cheek where Cal had struck her, she was fine. Another spell, perhaps, one that ensured she wouldn’t be disturbed whilst she slept. She shivered at the thought of being touched without invitation, thoughts of Jesper fighting their way to the surface.

She shuffled up to a seated position, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. For a human, it would have been pitch black. But Zylah could make out the walls of a cave, could see where the rock curved around into a passageway. She took in as much detail as she could, determined to stay calm, to find a way out of this.

“If you try anything, I’ll send the signal to end your brother’s life. Understood?” It was the archer, and Zylah hauled herself to her feet at the sound of his voice.

He’d spelled himself in the same way he’d spelled the cart, so she couldn’t hear his breathing or his movements. A bounty hunter who hunted the Fae and used their tricks against them. Zylah resisted the urge to lunge for him.

She looked around, feigning disinterest in his threat. “Signal from within a cave?” she asked, hoping she sounded far more confident than she felt.

The archer shoved aside a piece of heavy cloth Zylah hadn’t noticed before, and moonlight streamed in through a hole in the rock. “One strike of a match and your brother goes over the side of Mount Rinian.”

They were in the mountain range. Even though it was warmer now, she could smell the crisp snow outside. “Why aren’t we in Dalstead?”

“Negotiating a better price.” The archer’s face gave nothing away. If he hunted Fae, he knew how good her sight was.

She kept her face in shadow as she said, “Seems fair. I’m Liss.” Her voice was steady, her expression as schooled as Raif and Holt’s. “You know my brother. I know Cal. Who are you?” He might have known her real name, but she wasn’t about to give that up just yet.

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