Page 20 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

Zylah tried not to gawk. Where there was no water or rock, springy moss blanketed everything, jewel bright against the water. Three trees stood in the centre of the falls, rope walkways crisscrossing between them, orblights hanging amongst branches and tucked along their trunks.

And at their base, faeries danced, ate, waved wine glasses and laughed. No one stared back at them or asked them what they were doing there, too engrossed in enjoying the moment.

A band played lively string instruments, faeries clapping in time with the beat. A mix of High Fae and Lesser Fae, Zylah noted. Some of the Lesser Fae had wings, some had scales, some had skin the colour of Zylah’s eyes. But all of them wore pointed ear cuffs to mimic the High Fae amongst them.

“They’re concealing all of this from the outside world?” Zylah asked Holt just as a green-skinned faerie walked past with a tray of food in her hand, plump fruits and cheeses, piles of nuts and berries almost spilling over the edge.

Holt frowned. “So it would seem. Old magic seems to have had something of a revival.”

A group of High Fae approached them. Among them was Finn, and beside him walked a beautiful High Fae with a headpiece threaded into her silver hair, jewels dipping down onto her forehead. Her pale skin was flawless, her eyes an unusual shade that reminded Zylah of the water in the springs, somewhere between blue and green. Claw-like rings sat at the tip of each of her fingers, fine chains connecting them to bangles at her wrists. Zylah suspected they were for a display of power, but the sight of them reminded her of the Asters—monsters, and the thought made her want to recoil.

The Fae pulled her full lips into a pout as she approached, towering over Zylah, not that it was difficult. “Prince of the Forest. It has been too long since I have laid eyes on you.”

Zylah had all but forgotten Holt was royalty; hadn’t considered what allies he’d spoken of.

But he showed little of the warmth the female showed for him, and under that neutral façade, Zylah could feel him tense beside her. “Maelissa.”

Maelissa stepped so close Zylah had to tilt her chin up to see the female’s face. The Fae pressed a hand against her chest, fingers grazing the low cut of her neckline and brushing her bare skin. The scent of cloud violas and plumeria drifted from her skin. “What happened to just Mae?”

Oh.

More than friends then. Zylah’s skin prickled, and she willed herself not to fidget with her cloak, despite how hot she was underneath it.

“Your court is thriving, as always,” Holt said, waving a hand to the party around them.

Court.They’d all been destroyed, as far as Zylah knew.

“And you are welcome in it for as long as you wish. You and your… companion.” Mae’s gaze dropped down to Zylah’s for a moment, then back to Holt expectantly.

“This is Zylah.” They hadn’t talked about using her real name, but amongst Fae, Zylah supposed it wouldn’t matter. Holt’s hand hovered near her back as he introduced her, Mae’s eyes tracking the movement.

Zylah cleared her throat and looked up into those strange eyes. “Nice to meet you.” Even without Holt’s earlier warning, without the razor-sharp jewellery, Zylah already knew there would be nothing nice about the Fae before her.

Mae’s gaze travelled down, slowly, before meeting Zylah’s again. “Finn tells me your companion found him. Such loyalty is a rarity in today’s world. Please partake in whatever appeals to you. My court is yours for as long as the Prince of the Forest wishes to stay.”

She dipped her head in a bow, her eyes lingering on Holt’s face for a moment longer before she turned away, her entourage already whispering into her ears as they left.

Zylah held her head high, her gaze fixed on the largest of the falls, watching the Fae pass in and out of the curtain of water at the bottom.

“I didn’t believe Mae’s gossips when they spoke your name.” Zylah turned to the male voice that had spoken.

“Thallan.” Holt hesitated for a fraction of a second, so quickly Zylah almost missed it, before he grabbed the Fae’s outstretched hand and clasped his forearm in greeting.

“Good to see you, my friend,” Thallan said brightly, patting Holt on the back enthusiastically as he pulled him into a hug.

“You as well,” he said, though Zylah knew he didn’t mean it. He shot her a warning glance before he said, “Zylah, meet Thallan.”

Thallan’s grey eyes met hers, and though on the surface they were warm and welcoming, something about them set her skin crawling. Holt bristled beside her, and Kopi ruffled his feathers as she held a hand out to the Fae. “Hi.”

Thallan held her hand in both of his, and Zylah felt a wall of magic press against her as if she were stepping through a ward, but instead of feeling it outside her body, she felt it in her mind. The Fae’s expression was friendly, inquisitive, but as Holt’s fingers brushed her lower back as if in warning, Zylah forced herself to think of Arnir’s vanquicite throne, of the cuffs that had bound her wrists for days and the endless black of gazing into them.

Thallan blinked rapidly and released her hand at the same time Holt pulled away. “Forgive me… old habits are difficult to shake. You have an unusual air about you.” He looked at Kopi as he said it, his smile still warm.

Zylah tilted her head, the image of the vanquicite still firmly in her mind. Holt had warned her once about mental attacks, and the sensation she’d felt… despite Thallan’s smile, felt like something she needed to shield herself from. The vanquicite was the only thing she could think of.

Thallan brushed a blond curl behind a pointed ear and took a deep breath. “I have to ask… how is she?”

“Rose has been better.” Holt’s jaw squared, but he held Thallan’s attention.

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