Page 120 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

A shrug. “Ranon had me dispose of her.”

Dispose. Zylah almost choked at the word. And if any part of history had been right, she would wager that Sira had started a war over it, just as any mother with her power would have. “When Aurelia thought it was her mother who came to her, thought her mother was Sira. It was you. You used her, too. You used all of them. All of us.”

Kopi hooted once, flying out from amongst the rocks to settle on Zylah’s shoulder. He’d remained out of sight since they’d passed through the gate, mercifully, but now it seemed he wanted to offer up a distraction, too.

Her grandmother canted her head. “Even he disowned me.” She sighed, though the sound was forced. “I forget how busy you’ve been, Zylah. You have your mother’s irritating tendency for tenacity.”

“Your daughter,” Zylah snapped. Of all the monsters Zylah had faced, here was the greatest of them all.

Pallia merely laughed, but it was broken and brittle. “She was a means to an end. I couldn’t tell you who sired her; it was of no consequence to me, so long as I secured an heir. All I needed to ensure was that my bloodline wouldn’t end.” She trailed a sharp nail down Zylah’s cheek, pressing against the flesh. “I hadn’t anticipated she would use it against me.” Her grandmother raised a hand to stroke Kopi’s feathers, and the owl dug his little claws into Zylah’s shoulder as he ruffled his wings to evade Pallia’s touch. “No matter. I have all that I need.”

The ancient Fae took a step back, a wide smile spreading across her face. She raised her hands to the blood moon, magic crackling at her fingertips as she held Zylah’s gaze. “I require your assistance, granddaughter.”

Chapter Sixty

Pallia’smagichitZylahlike a bolt of lightning.

Kopi clawed at the Fae’s face, and with a flick of her wrist, her grandmother sent him skittering across the dirt. Zylah tried to breathe his name, but no sound came out. Only a curl of smoke, the taste of ash on her tongue.

“My greatest regret is setting foot on this blight of a world.” Pallia waved a hand, one of the arrenium daggers from a fallen soldier appearing in it. “But leaving was never an option before.” She dragged the blade across Zylah’s wrist, deep enough for the blood to flow freely. “I needed one of the others to help me. And I neededmyblood. Lots of it. So much I’d have never survived the crossing.”

Don’t lose focus,Zylah rasped as Holt’s attention faltered at her predicament.She needs Ranon.

“But since Ranon set his heart on leaving, I found myself coming up with reasons to stay. Set my sights on another goal instead. You and your friends made a fine attempt to destroy all that he and Aurelia had created. My blueprints, all of them.” She looked at the lifeless bodies beyond Zylah. “My priestesses.” Then Pallia squeezed her wrist, fingers digging into the wound. “But no matter. Your blood will revive them all. And Ranon will play his part.”

Zylah screamed as Pallia pressed harder, magic making the blood bubble as her grandmother began chanting. But all Zylah had to do was hold on. To give Holt as much of her power,theirpower as she could as his magic slammed into Ranon, every wave of it sending the ancient Fae staggering back in the dirt.

And if she could pull apart the bargain, fight back against the magic that made her little more than a compliant doll in her grandmother’s grasp, she might buy Holt the precious few seconds he needed to take out Ranon entirely.

The blood drained from her wrist slowly, whether by Pallia’s command or the remnants of Aurelia’s magic, Zylah wasn’t certain, but she didn’t let it distract her from her task. She’d achieved the unthinkable with her magic; she could break this bargain with Pallia, pull it apart piece by piece. If she could only hold on for long enough. If Holt could, too.

Every wave of his magic shuddered through her, every ripple of exertion interlaced with euphoria, the addictive nature of it seeping into his bones, into hers. And therein lay the danger of it: the stronger the ecstasy, the weaker his grasp on his other senses became.

But Zylah’s threads had already found the snag in the bargain’s magic, had already begun to unravel it, even as the rest of Pallia’s magic continued to burn through her. The chanting quickened, her body arching where her grandmother had her suspended a few feet off the ground, blood dripping from her wrist in slow, steady drops.

Every part of Zylah shook. Every part of her felt as if the magic was peeling the flesh from her bones. Her vision had long since narrowed to nothing but a dark tunnel, but it wouldn’t be long now, and she held onto that knowledge with everything she had, searching deep inside herself for every scrap of strength she had left.

She’d helped topple kings. Fought a three-headed water serpent. Slaughtered giant spiders. Run with wolves. Woven magic from nothing but the aether. Zylah would do this one last thing before she left this life.

Comfort and affection flared from Holt as he fought against Ranon’s magic, his soul speaking to hers in the way only he could. She’d known from the beginning they wouldn’t walk away from this. Had known it was always going to end this way. But being his, for as brief a time as it had been… she’d meant every word of it when she’d accepted the bond between them, when she’d told him that the greatest privilege of her life had been to stand beside him as his mate.

She offered up every bit of magic she could spare him as her threads ripped away at Pallia’s bargain.

Piece by piece.

Until—Zylah fell from her grandmother’s grasp, her body crumpling in the dirt.

Now, she told her mate.

And Holt unleashed himself. A burst of magic so great the ground shook beneath their feet, rocks falling from above. Power entwined with flames, so much fire it tumbled over itself like waves, Ranon’s howl a gasping shriek as it consumed him whole.

“No!” Pallia cried. Magic erupted from her fingertips, slamming into Holt’s chest and knocking him off his feet. Zylah raised a hand at her grandmother to attack, but Pallia was faster, another bolt of lightning piercing through Zylah’s body.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Could only look at Holt, unmoving in the dirt a few feet away, tears and shadows blurring her vision as she willed him to rise, willed the thread between them to hold on just a little bit longer.

Move.The thought was as much for her as it was for him.

Seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, her breaths little more than gasps.

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