Page 95 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

A wave of nausea washed over Zylah, and she whispered a prayer to Pallia as the feeling turned itself over in her stomach, like throwing a line for anything,anyoneto find her. To help her. But still, she kept moving until she reached the edge of the forest, tears blurring her vision the moment the canopy blocked out the light.

The wind stopped, and the world fell silent.

She felt eyes on her, watching from the depths of the forest. Sprites. “Help me, please,” she whispered as she paused to catch her breath. Nothing. No birds, no snapping twigs underfoot. The sprites weren’t going to intervene, not this time. She wiped at her tears, just as an owl call broke the silence. Kopi.

“I’m here,” Zylah rasped through her tears, her voice broken and scratched. “I’m here.” She stumbled, pushing herself up again as she ran between the trees, every bone in her body begging her to stop, to lie down, until a voice cut through the quiet.

“Zylah!”

It was Holt, and all Zylah could do was let out a pathetic whimper in response. She peered ahead and caught sight of him through the trees as she stumbled again in the snow, another broken whimper escaping her.

When she glanced up again, Holt was right in front of her. “Zylah,” he breathed, as she fell into his arms. “What have they done to you?”

Zylah couldn’t speak. All she could do was lean into Holt, breathing in his reassuring scent and willing herself not to fall apart. She felt his hands pass over her back; he was trying to heal her.

“Cuffs,” she murmured.

Holt held her closer. “How long?” he asked, his breath hot in her hair.

“Three days.”

“Shit.” He lifted her just as she was, wrapping her legs around his waist so her front pressed against his, careful not to touch her back.

In any other circumstance, Zylah would have commented on how undignified it was, and a delusional laugh almost escaped her, thinking back to when they’d first set foot in Virian together and she’d mentioned how she must have looked like a child beside him. But she wouldn’t have been able to make it up onto his back without tearing at her wounds. She closed her eyes as she leaned into him, her heartbeat pounding in her head.

“What happened?” Holt asked quietly.

Zylah fought back a sob. “I went to see my father. He…” She swallowed. Took a deep breath. “He died. Arnir had him beaten. Two bounty hunters came and took me and Zack… I don’t know where he is, Holt; I need to find him.”

“How did this happen?”

She knew he meant her back. “One of the bounty hunters. I killed him.”

“Good.”

“How did you find me?” she asked quietly.

His grip tensed for a moment. “Kopi.”

Zylah was vaguely aware of him moving through the forest, of trees coming in and out of focus. “My brother,” she murmured, trying to twist back in the direction of the cave and instantly regretting it. Raw skin rubbed against cloth, and Zylah swore under her breath.

“I’ll go back for him.”

Zylah nodded against him, too tired to reply. She focused on the sound of his breathing, of his feet crunching through the snow. If he couldn’t heal her because of the lingering effects the vanquicite still had on her, he likely couldn’t evanesce with her either.

Trees passed by, but his breathing remained steady and even, as if he ran around forests carrying wounded women every day.

The forest grew thicker, darker, the world coming in and out of focus. Zylah felt weak, boneless, and she knew it wasn’t a good sign. “You’re shaking,” she murmured against his neck, her lip splitting open again as she spoke.

Holt’s hands carefully tightened around her, pulling her closer. “It’s you, Zylah.”

Her eyes closed, and all she wanted was to sleep. To sleep and never wake up. To be free from the pain that coursed through her body.

“Hey.” Holt’s voice pulled her from an almost dream. “Remember rule number seven?”

“Hmm?”

He pressed a thumb against her thigh to get her attention. “Rule number seven. No dying on each other.”

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