Page 58 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

It was all entirely out of Zylah’s comfort zone, but she’d never been the type to back down just because of a little discomfort, and she certainly wasn’t going to start now. She was glad of it, as she walked beside Raif, catching glimpses at his profile from beneath her hood. He looked like one of the princes from Kara’s books, and Zylah silently scolded herself for such a trivial thought.

They’d already neared the bridge before either of them spoke. “I wanted to thank you—” Zylah began.

“How’s the training going?” Raif asked at the same time.

It was a cloudy night; no moonlight broke through the clouds, and beneath a lamp on the bridge stood a young woman playing a stringed instrument Zylah hadn’t seen before. The woman plucked at a few strings as if she were testing the tuning.

Zylah laughed quietly as she looked up at Raif, taking in the way his face softened whenever he looked at her. Against her will, her heart skipped a beat.

“You first,” he said with a smirk.

Howwastraining with Holt going? Zylah was sure Raif already knew the answer to that. Her confidence had grown quickly. Holt was a good teacher, and already she felt as if she could defend herself. “Better than training with you is going.” Zylah elbowed Raif playfully; she wanted to keep this evening light.

A dimple made an appearance as he said, “We do need to set aside more time for our one-to-one’s, don’t we?”

Zylah turned away for a moment as her cheeks heated.

As they strolled past the musician, she’d already begun a song about forgetting and moonlight, the words sending shivers along Zylah’s arms.

“Would you like my jacket?” Raif asked, already reaching for the buttons.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” She glanced over a shoulder as they walked away from the performer, her words about missed chances and a love that got away chasing them to the other side of the bridge.

Raif slid his arm around her waist again, as if it was something he did every day. “I think you’ve come a long way in, what—not even two weeks of using your abilities. Are you not pleased with your progress?”

Zylah pushed out a breath, forced the thought of Mala’s lifeless body from her thoughts. “No.”

“Healing is a rare gift. One that takes time to hone. And for you, it will be a foundation for whatever comes next.” His fingers splayed across the thin fabric of her dress as he pressed gently, reassuringly.

A foundation. Zylah didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t understand what she’d seen so far of faerie magic; Holt’s abilities and Raif’s seemed to be at odds with each other, and Raif had given her so little when she’d asked about his eyes.

He paused at a doorway arched with pink alea flowers and reached for her hand. “Ready?”

Zylah nodded as a man dressed in white opened the door for them. “Good evening, sir, your booth is ready for you.”

“Thank you, Tarin,” Raif said, stepping aside for Zylah to follow the waiter.

It was much darker inside than she’d expected, but candles lit up spaces here and there, perfectly illuminating lavish paintings with gilded frames and glittering accents with the most whimsical subjects Zylah had ever seen. Dark swathes of fabric that revealed nothing more than the silhouette of whoever was behind them hung around the tables and booths, the quiet murmur of diners and the occasional burst of laughter erupting from within. Strands of crystal beads looped across sections of the ceiling, interspersed with tiny orblights that made the crystals look like constellations dancing above them.

She caught Raif watching her as she turned back to face him. “What?” she asked quietly.

“I was just thinking something insufferable,” he said with a smile, eyes roving over her as he took her in.

The waiter pulled aside one of the fine curtains and Zylah slid inside as gracefully as she could in her dress.

“This place looks fit for royalty,” Zylah murmured as she looked at the twinkling crystals draped above and around them. She reached out a hand to touch one and watched the orblight dance off it in tiny rainbows.

Raif entered the booth on the opposite side to her, sliding around the curve of the table to sit across from the curtain and unbuttoning his jacket as he sat. “Royalty is everywhere in Virian, Liss,” he said with a wink, patting the velvet cushions beside him. “The best view is from here.”

“View?” Zylah could barely see her own hands, the orblights were so small and dim. But she slid along the sofa to sit beside him.

She felt Raif’s heated gaze on her even in the dim light. “That dress is…” He swallowed, glancing down at the exposed skin of her leg beside him.

“Scandalous?” Zylah asked with a quiet laugh, watching the way he shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on the banquette beside him. His black shirt was rolled to his elbows, a few buttons unfastened at the neck. Solid muscle pushed against thin fabric, and Zylah resisted the urge to run a hand over one of his biceps.

“You look like a goddess. Sometimes I think you might be Pallia in disguise.”

“Jilah said that when I first met him.”

---