Page 5 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

“Don’t say that.”

The mask of indifference fell away for a second, so briefly Zylah might have missed it. He’d said another vampire told him his blood could heal… how would they have known, if not from experience? But then Zylah remembered why she was there. How she’d beengiftedto him by his mother like prize cattle. “It’s easier for me to believe she’s compelled you.”

“She hasn’t.”

And Zylah could see that. In everything he said and didn’t say, it was clear that he was there because he chose to be. That he waskeepingher there because he chose to. And given everything that had happened, everything with Jesper, everything since fleeing the gallows, that made Raif the biggest monster of all.

But Zylah was no stranger to monsters; she’d been one to herself for the longest time. Things were different now.

She felt stronger than she had since Aurelia had first taken her, however many weeks it had been. Perhaps even strong enough to leave if she could only escape Raif’s vigil. Zylah pulled on her magic again, tried to evanesce, but nothing happened. She didn’t dare move too much, too quickly, for fear he’d notice, trying to make her movements seem slow and sluggish.

Raif made for the door, having made no attempt to defend his actions or his intentions. “I need to go smooth things over with my mother,” was all he offered.

Zylah just watched him, willing her heartbeat to remain steady. She had to be sure he was truly gone before she attempted her escape, and she had no idea how strong his senses were now.

He hesitated in the open doorway when she didn’t reply. “Kopi left?”

“He wasn’t mine to keep.”

But Holt had been hers. A memory struck her, so sharp she sucked in a breath. “I know Pallia told you few things in this life belong to us. But I am yours. And you are mine. And nothing, no one will ever convince me otherwise.”Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn’t brush them away.

“I won’t leave you alone here for long,” Raif said, pulling her from her thoughts.

Zylah had been afraid he might say that.

Chapter Four

Zylahwaiteduntiltheribbon of sunlight passed by her bed, until it thinned to a narrow point. She had nothing to take save for the clothes on her back. Mercifully, Raif had left her boots, but she had no weapons, no food, no tools with which to make anything.

She’d improvised before.

A sound from deep within the maze had her pausing as she fastened her laces, her breaths shallow as she tried her best to remain quiet. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Raif. She smoothed the hem of her sweater, the deep red covered in dark patches where her blood had dried from Aurelia’s beating. One sleeve gaped open where the Fae had dragged the splintered shard across her arm; there were holes big enough to fit her fingers through across her ribs. Her trousers were still intact, at least.

The last two times Zylah had tried to evanesce, the pain had been so blinding she’d had to lie down, so leaving on foot was her only option. The idea of walking out of the maze didn’t fill her with much hope, but she was going to give it her best shot. She flexed her magic again, hoping to summon a dagger to her fingertips, but nothing came. No weapons, then. Fine. With a deep breath, Zylah left the confines of her room and made her way out into the narrow passage leading into the dark.

The temperature dropped almost immediately; the air seemed to shimmer around her. Wards. Lots of them. “Fuck,” Zylah murmured. If they were tied to Raif in any way, he’d have been alerted immediately.

A cave was her first impression of the space, only the walls were so densely woven with roots and those strange vines that stretched far above her head. Light filtered through cracks somewhere, but it was still far too dark for her to see perfectly, to run rather than walk. Had it not been for her keen Fae eyesight, she wouldn’t have been able to see a thing. Still, Zylah left one hand tracing the wall at all times, just in case.

An earthy scent clung to the air, pulling her back into another memory, when she’d been searching for Malok’s key with Holt. To how the roots had pressed into her when Holt had backed her up against the wall.“Tell me what you want, Zylah. Say it.”To how he’d kissed her for the very first time.

Zylah’s hands were shaking. And it took her a moment to realise she’d stopped walking, her chest so painfully tight, the darkness like a weight bearing down on her. He was gone. In the space she should feel him, he was gone. And there was nothing but silence in his wake.

Something made a noise in the darkness, like the clicking of pebbles dropped against each other, and it was all the encouragement Zylah needed to press on, to remind her she didn’t have time to waste. The narrow passage soon led to a junction, and she had to decide whether to continue following the wall or take a right. There was nothing to differentiate the two routes, no change in the air, no scents, no sounds. Nothing but more gnarly roots and a few cobwebs. Perfect.

She opted for following the wall to her left, passing more junctions, sometimes two at once. All looked identical. Occasionally a shaft of light fell across the dirt at her feet, narrowed almost to a point, but she’d lost all sense of time without a fixed point with which to follow it. What use would Ranon have for a maze? Zylah wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer as the sketches she’d once seen of his and Sira’s reign filled her thoughts, the war they’d started, the monsters they’d created.

Another corner; a dead end. There was no choice but to turn back the way she’d come, taking the first left and hoping for the best. Even if she couldn’t get out before Raif returned, lost was still alive.

Zylah pressed on for what felt like hours, passageway after passageway, turn after turn, dead end after dead end, not even a glimpse of a wraith in the darkness until, at last, she felt a change in the air pressure. Her steps slowed; her Fae ears picked up the sound of quiet breaths, unlaboured, but not asleep. Whatever it came from, she only hoped it was Fae. But deep within the maze, untold power thrumming through every rock and root, the chances were slim to none.

With her body pressed flat against the wall, Zylah chanced a look around the corner. A small chamber, more cave than anything she’d seen so far, with another shaft of light slicing through from far above, the narrow beam hitting the dirt.

Zylah held her breath. On a raised stone plinth, eyes closed, legs crossed, hands resting gently on his knees, sat a man. A man, she presumed, because he had rounded, human ears, though Zylah knew from experience that could mean anything. This was Ranon’s maze, so he could be anyone. Anything.

No weapons sat about his person, though well-worn fighting leathers clung to him like a second skin. He wasn’t sleeping, Zylah was certain, though his eyes remained closed. Dark brown curls fell across light brown skin, his short beard well-kept despite the obvious signs of age to his clothing.

Zylah wasn’t a fool. She could fight, but she was still weak. And after another failed attempt to summon a weapon to her hand, she knew she had to decide whether he was going to be friend or foe.

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