Page 80 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

“There are none within any notable distance of this court,” Zylah told the Fae, her threads casting a wide net in every direction. Only the signatures of animals and a small group of humans echoed back to her, mercifully. When Nye had told her to use the cloth over her eyes to her advantage, Zylah knew this wasn’t what her friend had meant, but it was too late to be concerned with that now.

They’d seen her fight. Seen her take down an Aster and half a dozen thralls. There was no use concealing this, not when they needed the reassurance. Staying within the protection of the court was more important than letting hysteria have its citizens fleeing. And Zylah couldn’t be certain the four Fae that looked at them both with something between reverence and fear on their faces would keep what they’d just witnessed to themselves.

The female shared a look with Finn, supported on either side by the two males. “Come, Prince of the Forest, our High Lady will never forgive us if we leave you out here.”

Zylah had all but forgotten the title the Fae of this court referred to Holt by. Had yet to ask the history of it. She hadn’t warmed to Finn on their last visit, but his gratitude seemed genuine enough.

Holt had said nothing, but his attention darted over the empty clearing before turning back to Finn and nodding his approval. She wanted to question him about how he’d combined his magic, how he’d seen the shadows she’d suffocated the vampire with. About why he’d been holding back during their sparring sessions, irritation flaring for a moment before she realised the answer was probably the same as hers. It was rule number two, after all.

Kopi called out from the forest, and with a smile, Zylah held out a hand for her friend. “Perfect timing.” Not a feather was out of place, the little owl hopping up her arm to his spot on her shoulder, settling in as if he’d never left.

Another shared look between the Fae, though they didn’t comment on Kopi’s arrival. They’d seen him during their last visit, and Zylah hoped by now that the novelty of his presence had worn off. The female led the way, trailed by the three males, and Zylah began to follow, pausing when Holt didn’t.

“Holt?” she said softly, his attention fixed on the clearing.

“We should hide it.” The scorched earth where he’d annihilated the vampires. “It will only raise questions.”

He was right, of course. But she had no sway over the weather. “It’ll snow soon enough,” she told him. He studied her face again, her neck, like he was searching for any signs of the injuries she’d endured. “Come on.” She rested a hand on his arm, easing him towards the court and away from the charred clearing behind them, her threads humming contentedly as the first few flakes of snow began to fall.

Chapter Forty

Thecourtwasjustas Zylah remembered it, with one notable difference. Its High Lady wasn’t there.

Sparkling blue pools sat between waterfalls, more rock passageways cutting away from them like the one they’d just walked through. Her threads reached across all of it, the court far, far bigger than she’d realised during their last visit. The wards had been bolstered since then, the pressure of them making her jaw clench as the court’s strange air rippled over her skin.

“Lady Maelissa still hasn’t returned,” Finn told them as his companions settled him beside one of the rock pools at the base of a cascade, springy moss supporting his weight.

A male rushed over, cursing when he took in Finn’s leg. A healer, judging by the way he pulled a fresh roll of cloth from a shoulder bag. The wound wasn’t deep; Zylah’s threads had glossed over the injury already, probing, testing. Had she and Holt not just expended so much of their reserves, she’d have offered to heal the wounded, but the telltale signs of magic depletion had already begun, her threads already pulled in tight before her sight could dwindle.

“She’s sent word?” Holt asked, his eyes flicking to Zylah’s face for a moment. There was no concern in his tone, no affection at all, she noted, and perhaps it was petty for her to feel satisfaction at that, but she felt it all the same.

She couldn’t heal with magic, and though she wanted nothing more than to wash off the aftermath of fighting from her skin, Zylah knelt beside the female, taking some of the healer’s tincture and a fresh cloth from his bag of supplies to clean her hands and tend to the Fae’s face.

“Lady Maelissa is safe. Resting amongst humans after a difficult journey, two days’ ride from here,” the female said, adding her thanks to Zylah for her assistance.

Holt and Zylah shared a look. Finn had acted as Mae’s adviser during their last visit, and though he seemed trustworthy, Zylah doubted Holt knew the others well enough to share all they’d learnt. Mae’s absence from the court was too conveniently timed not to be tied to the arrenium, and the thought had apprehension twining with Zylah’s exhaustion.

There was still every possibility the High Lady had been working with Aurelia all along, that she had merely sent Thallan and her archers knowingly, and Zylah only trusted Holt’s answer to that question, so she kept it to herself.

It was an effort to rise from her position beside the female, Holt’s hand a steady weight on the small of her back and another burst of his healing magic pouring into her. Just like before, when the vanquicite had been lodged in her spine. They’d begun to draw attention, the court much busier than it had been during their previous visit. Almost twice the number of Fae filled the space, many watching their exchange closely.

Zylah didn’t need her threads to tell her the meaning behind their inquisitive eyes. It was fear. “Your numbers have doubled,” she noted, wishing they’d be granted some privacy so she might ask Holt all the questions that couldn’t be discussed in front of an audience.

Finn’s gaze roamed over the Fae staring and whispering, including those on the walkways above. “Refugees. Our High Lady offers a safe haven to any Fae.”

That… that was a surprise. Maelissa hadn’t seemed like the charitable type. Or generous. Or kind. Or any pleasant quality at all, now Zylah thought of it. “But no humans,” she observed, her attention flitting between High and Lesser Fae alike.

“No court welcomes humans,” Finn retorted.

“Yet your High Lady is resting with humans as we speak.” Holt’s expression remained unreadable, but there was no misinterpreting the authority in his tone.

Finn and the others fell silent at that; only the female had the sense to look embarrassed by their outdated traditions. But nothing about the court was normal; Zylah had known it the moment they’d first met Finn and he’d handed over two robes in the middle of the forest.

Even now, with Fae filling the space and seeking refuge, it still felt to Zylah like they were trapped. Like the strange air of the space that was outside but somehownotwas stifling to breathe. Waterfalls flowed into each other almost artificially, limpid pools glittering at their base, the roar of the falls somehow muted. It was beautiful to behold, but it had been made that way, Zylah suspected.

“Holt. Zylah. What an unexpected blessing,” a familiar voice called out from among the gathering groups. A Fae approached them, the fine tattoo curling around his eye his most notable feature had it not been for the warmth of his smile. Ellisar. Zylah loosed a breath at the sight of him, at the prospect of getting away from the growing crowd. He and his mate were good friends with Holt, had offered them both nothing but kindness on their last visit.

The Fae’s gaze swept over them, over Kopi on Zylah’s shoulder, and his hands fell over hers. “Look at you,” Ellisar said softly, his tone gentle as he took in the cloth over her eyes, her pointed ears. He’d done well to recognise her, but then Kopi would have given her away. “Please,” he said, to them both this time with a discreet bow in Holt’s direction. “You must be exhausted. Dalana will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t insist you stay with us.”

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