Page 19 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

Cold hands touched her face and Zylah stilled.

“Zylah,” Raif breathed. “Can you hear me?”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she spat. A shadow moved overhead as Raif tore at the web trapping her to the rock.

“I can heal you. Please. Let me heal you.”

The thought of him forcing his blood on her again had her shaking. “Rhaznia!” Zylah called out, her voice broken and desperate. “You want Ranon? His grandson is here for the taking.”

Raif’s quiet intake of breath was unmistakable, but the vampire didn’t stop tearing at her bindings, didn’t say a word. He freed her legs and her empty hand as the wolf and Rhaznia fought somewhere behind him, nothing more than blurred shadows and snarls and screams.

Zylah’s fingers curled around the hilt of her dagger as Raif moved to her other hand. He tore at more of the web, and as his fingers brushed hers, she moved, slamming the blade into what she hoped was his face or his neck, shoving him back and rolling away as he cried out in pain.

She grasped for her sword, used it to stand, to get her bearings, to turn to the light—the way out—and ran.

“Ranon’s grandson. I accept your gift, Zylah,” the creature said somewhere behind her. Zylah didn’t care. She was running, her name on Raif’s lips so close she was certain he was right behind her, fingers closing around her elbow just as she reached the mouth of the cave. Zylah didn’t stop as those fingers pulled away from her, as Raif called out again, not for her, but at whatever Rhaznia had done. Attacked him with her venomous hands, Zylah hoped. Prayed for it.

Wind whipped at her hair as she left the shadows of the maze, the world bright and blurry around her, the soft crunch of snow underfoot. Zylah could see nothing, but still, she ran, stumbling and falling, nothing but bright light every way she looked.

Cold damp seeped through to her knees. Her fingers burned from the cold. But nothing would stop her from running, fear and elation urging her on as her eyes streamed against Rhaznia’s venom. No magic answered her, no matter how hard she tried to find it, to evanesce, to escape.

It didn’t matter. She was free. And Raif would never touch her again.

He called her name from within the maze, the sound cut short by his screams.

Chapter Twelve

Afewtimes,Zylahthought she heard Raif call her name, pain lacing the word, but each time, it was carried away with the wind.

Nothing would make her turn back and help him. Not when Holt was out there, somewhere, and every stumbling step she took was one step closer to him.

But moving was difficult. Zylah didn’t dare reach up to her face to feel for damage, the loss of vision told her enough. All she could make out was light and shadow; twice she had stumbled and rolled and it was a wonder she hadn’t broken her neck. Adrenaline kept her moving, because once the light faded, there would be no distinguishing between anything.

I’ll find you, she promised Holt silently, even though their bond remained silent. A flicker of warmth followed her vow, and though Zylah knew she was imagining things, it urged her on all the same.

She was going to need a plan, to find her friends somehow. Contact her brother in Virian. Rin and Kej and Nye, if they’d survived the mine. The thoughts were sluggish, but they forced her to keep going, to not let her brain catch up with her exhausted body. The shadows had begun to change, still white, snow covered, but as they rose up before her, Zylah slowed. It could take hours to find a way through, or worse, over, and she didn’t have hours until darkness fell.

Snow crunched at her back and Zylah whirled, sword drawn. A glimmer of yellow amongst grey. A puff of breath. The cyon wolf. Caught between exhaustion and delirium, Zylah sheathed her weapon. There would be no winning if the beast wanted to attack; she could see nothing but shadows, the day drawing to a close.

“I’m sorry,” she told it quietly. “About your friend.” Its mate, some quiet part of her suspected, her heart squeezing at the thought. She sagged to her knees, fingers sinking into cold snow. “I can’t see,” she said weakly as the shadow approached, her body aching with the effort of staying upright. “I can’t fucking see, and my”—a shiver cut through her—“my…” Zylah’s voice broke on the word. The wolf stalked closer, close enough she could feel its hot breath huff over her skin. “Holt,” she breathed, sagging into the snow, eyes falling shut.

Icy wetness pressed into her cheek; wind blew the hair from her face.Get up. Get up. Get—something nudged her, and Zylah mumbled as it did it again. The cyon wolf. Not eating her. Prodding her, gently but firmly, urging her to rise.

“Okay,” Zylah croaked warily. Another prod. “Okay, okay, alright.”

It tugged at her cloak this time, pulling her to her feet. Zylah swayed, fingers grasping for purchase and finding soft fur. The wolf remained a firm presence at her side, even when she leaned into it to keep from falling back to her knees. When it seemed satisfied she was standing, it moved slowly, just enough for Zylah to stumble along beside it.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Her thoughts drifted to Pallia. Her grandmother. Ranon seemed convinced she was alive, had all but confessed he’d been able to see the world somehow from the confines of his tomb. All that power at his fingertips, and he needed Pallia. It didn’t add up.

Zylah half stumbled, half propped herself up against the wolf’s flank, following alongside it for what felt like hours before the shadows seemed to swallow them whole. Daylight had gone, and she knew she probably wouldn’t make it through the night. But almost as soon as she’d finished the thought, the wind stopped, the air stilling and changing, her feet pressing against rock. Another cave.

If she had the strength, she would have laughed with relief. The wolf led her deeper into the cave, but the frigid air still followed them. Zylah was far too weak to call anything to her, a change of clothes, a blanket. And there was no chance of making a fire. But there was no sense in voicing any of those concerns.

She slumped to the ground, hands wrapped around herself as if they might stave away the cold that had her body trembling. A blur of yellow filled her vision. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her,” she whispered.

The wolf whined, and Zylah blinked against the sting of hot tears pressing against the corners of her eyes. Violent shivers shook her body and she rubbed her hands together, blowing weakly against her fingers. The wolf padded around her, whined softly, and then curled its body around hers.

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