Page 44 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

“Funny, he’s never mentioned you.” She didn’t add that Holt had barely mentioned anything about himself at all.Until last night.

Raif chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me. He’s never been one for many words.”

It felt wrong to be talking about Holt with Raif, but Zylah couldn’t pinpoint why. The hairs on her arms stood on end as they stepped off the bridge onto the dirt road that bordered the forest. “You must have struggled with that,” she finally said to Raif.

“Are you saying I talk too much? I can think of other things we can do instead.”

She thought of their kiss, of his body pressed against hers and turned to look back at the city to hide her blush. Virian was so much bigger than she’d imagined when she and Holt had first approached it, weeks ago. The world was much bigger than she’d thought, and she couldn’t wait to get away from Virian to see it.

She’d told Raif and Holt she wanted to join the uprising to help, which was true, but it didn’t mean she didn’t have her own selfish reasons. Like making contacts, connections that might be useful to her in the days ahead. For when she had enough money and supplies to leave Virian for good.

She’d need to know people, have acquaintances, even though she hated the truth of it—hated that she wouldn’t be able to do it alone.

One of the guards from the gate strode towards the traders, and Zylah spun back around, checking her hood was still covering her hair. If any of Arnir’s men from his prison were stationed here, they’d recognise her. She couldn’t risk any of them looking too closely.

Her thoughts drifted to Raif and Holt, to how long they must have known each other for Raif to consider them brothers. Fae ageing was still a mystery to her, but Jilah seemed like an old man. “Is Jilah truly Kihlan and Niara’s father? He seems…old… even by Fae standards.”

“I suggest we do something other than talk and you ask me about that old strip of leather?” Raif nudged her lightly again with his elbow, twirling the basket in his other hand. “He’s their grandfather. Their mother died a few years ago.”

“And how old are the children?”

“As old as they look.”

The Falstin forest spread on both sides of the road leading to the city, and Zylah knew from experience that it spread far. “And Jilah?” Kopi flitted from tree to tree as they walked along the road, keeping out of the way of the horses and carts.

“Who knows? Too old to ask,” Raif said with another twirl of the basket.

“I don’t understand how the ageing works… Holt is… well I know how old Holt is, and he doesn’t look a day over twenty-five. When do you start to age?”

“Liss, I never took you for the shallow type.” Raif raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her, another smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I see looks are important to you.”

Zylah opened her mouth to reply, but Raif cut her off. “Jilah made a bargain, and it cost him.”

“A bargain?”

When she looked up, Raif nodded discreetly at a man on horseback. “Humans make deals, do they not? Jilah made a bargain and the cost was his eternal youth. He is still immortal, but as he gets older, he will age and his body will decay.”

“But he won’t die?” Zylah asked, glancing back at the rider.

“Not exactly, no. A bargain with a faerie is never pleasant. Whatever twisted soul made that arrangement with him, they wanted the satisfaction of knowing that it would one day take his life, but on their terms. He’ll reach a point where he’ll be so old and frail, he won’t want to go on living anymore, and most likely, when he tries to take his own life, he’ll discover the bargain won’t let him die by his own hand, but some other perverse scheme only a faerie could concoct.”

What would have been worth that? And to lose his daughter, too. “That’s awful,” Zylah said quietly.

“Today’s lesson: never make a bargain with a faerie.”

Zylah was about to reply when Kopi hooted a warning. She casually looked away from the guard striding past, who had been concealed moments before behind a cart.

“Are you ever going to tell me why you’re hiding from them?” Raif murmured, swooping down to pick a weed and place it in his basket for the benefit of the guard watching. Itwasedible, but she’d bet a copper piece that Raif didn’t know that.

“Another time, maybe.” Zylah’s gaze fixed on the guard’s back as he walked away. “High Fae and Lesser Fae, what’s the difference?”

A narrow path cut away from the road, and Raif looked in both directions before heading down it, waving a hand for Zylah to follow. “Those are old terms; who told you those?”

“I read them.” It was an easy lie, and the words just slipped out. Lying had always come easily to Zylah; she’d gotten so used to covering up her strangeness, the odd situations she always seemed to find herself in. Besides, she saw no point in telling him that Holt had told her.

The path became nothing but trampled undergrowth through the trees, the darkness of the forest enveloping them. The sounds from the road disappeared, replaced with the quiet creaking of boughs as they swayed in a gentle breeze.

Raif didn’t question her. “Lesser Faeries, as they were once called, are more unusual than their High Fae counterparts. Whereas we look like nothing more than pointy-eared humans, Lesser Faeries come in all shapes and sizes. Some are winged, some have fangs, claws, scales. As a child, I never understood why they coveted pointed ears like mine, they wear metal ear cuffs to mimic the look, but their ears are usually the last thing you’re looking at.”

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