Page 46 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

“You really do know nothing about Fae.” His smile was wicked as she ducked out of his grip, reaching down for the basket just as Kopi landed on the rim.

“I guess you’ll just have to show me.” Zylah offered her hand, and the moment Raif’s calloused fingers brushed against hers, she evanesced them back to Virian.

But it wasn’t to the safe house. They appeared in the grotto, just as Niara ran past them. Zylah’s concentration was still in tatters, but she smelt the coppery tang of the wound before she saw it. The girl had cut her knee and had huddled by the wall to inspect it, wiping her eyes against her sleeve.

“A perfect opportunity to practise your healing,” Raif murmured, a hand pressed lightly against her back. If he minded that she’d brought them here instead of the safe house, he didn’t let it show. Any sign of what they’d been doing moments before had vanished, and in a heartbeat, he was beside Niara, gently coaxing the girl’s hands away from her knee to take a look. He waved Zylah over, and she knelt beside them.

She looked between Raif and Niara, guilt settling heavily in her stomach, obliterating any of the desire she’d felt moments before. If the guards found out who she was…

Zylah couldn’t get attached to these people.Fae,she reminded herself. She had to move on, as soon as she could. She was putting the children at risk; she was lying to all of them.

And if Arnir found out they’d been helping her, he wouldn’t hesitate to punish them all.

Chapter Eighteen

Under Raif’s instruction, Niara’s wound knitted itself back together after a few failed attempts. Zylah watched in awe as she made it happen, expecting to see light or some indication of the magic, but there was none. She couldn’t see the power, the magic, but she couldfeelit, and it made the lump in her back ache a little more than usual, a piece of information she tucked away for later.

Niara threw her arms around Zylah’s neck. “Thank you,” she whispered before glancing between Zylah and Raif and darting out of the grotto.

“Well, you’re certainly a fast learner.” Raif offered Zylah a hand and helped her to her feet. He’d pulled her close again, close enough that all she had to do was tilt her head even just a little in invitation. She looked up to meet his gaze, and the way he looked at her made her breath catch in her throat. He was definitely trouble.

Zylah reached up onto her toes and brushed a soft kiss against his lips. “We should get to the safe house,” she murmured. She gestured to the basket of supplies before he could get any ideas similar to the ones bouncing around in her thoughts. “The amantia will turn the other plants if they’re left together for too long.”

She turned to Kopi as she collected the basket. “If I’m not back by the end of the day, I’ll meet you at the tavern, okay?”

“You truly think he understands you?” Raif asked.

Kopi hooed and flew out across the pond to one of his favourite trees, leaves fluttering around him as he landed. Zylah smiled as she watched him go, before turning back to Raif and holding her hand out to him. “I have work to do,” she managed to say, just as he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her mouth.

He pulled back, and she evanesced them to the safe house, right into the entrance by the front door.

“How did she break through the wards?” It was Rose, and she marched right out from the counter and circled Zylah. “Arnir is attending the festival,” she said, turning her attention to her brother. “It was confirmed today.”

“What festival?” Zylah asked, a little out of breath. She’d felt the wards the moment she passed through them, as if she were wading neck-deep through a marsh. The ache in her back had become acute, as though a dull knife was pressing against it. She set the basket down on the counter and tried to conceal the shake in her hands. She didn’t want to think about what might have happened if she hadn’t been able to pass through the wards and had no idea if she could change direction halfway through evanescing, particularly with someone else with her. She took a seat on the lounger, pressing her hands to her thighs to hold them steady.

Raif was beside her in one swift movement, a hand pressed lightly to her back. “I think you’ve had enough of practising your abilities for one day.” He wrapped a hand around hers, squeezing gently. His reassuring warmth flooded through her and she looked up to find him watching her, concern etched across his face.

“I’m fine, really. Tell me about the festival.” She managed a weak smile as a wave of nausea rolled through her, and Raif rubbed soothing circles on her lower back.

Rose glanced between them, and Zylah didn’t miss the disapproval that flickered across her face, the way her mouth pressed into a firm line and she frowned ever so slightly.

“The Royal Festival is Arnir’s way of spitting on our heritage. It always falls at the exact time we’d have celebrated the Festival of Imala, and it’s his way of mocking any who might still favour the Fae ways, to force us to celebrate on his terms.” Rose crossed her arms. She hadn’t been overly welcoming when Zylah met her, but she’d been polite, at least. Raif had said things between him and his sister were difficult, that Saphi was a buffer between them. Zylah was beginning to understand why.

She thought of the Goddess Imala. Zylah had always known of her as the Goddess of Home, Motherhood, the Harvest. Of all things abundance and growth. It seemed only fitting the Fae would pick her festival to celebrate, although Zylah supposed she had no idea what other festivals they celebrated. “And the king will be coming here?” she asked, looking to Raif.

He released her hand, but the other still traced circles on her back. “That’s what we were hoping for, yes.”

“Raif, should she be hearing this?” Rose took a step towards them, thrusting a hand in Zylah’s direction.

Zylah opened her mouth to object, but Raif cut in. “You’re the one who couldn’t wait to tell me. Besides, she’s one of us now, Rose, what’s to hide?”

“It’s a little soon to be giving her this much information, don’t you think?” His sister’s tone was cold, any sign of the welcoming presence from their introduction entirely gone. Zylah didn’t know what to make of it.

Saphi appeared from behind the curtain, strings of glass clinking together as she pushed the beads aside. “Liss, why don’t you come with me and we’ll get started on those poultices?”

Zylah didn’t need to be asked twice. She scooped up the basket and followed Saphi out of the room. “I need a few more ingredients—”

“I’m sorry about Rose,” Saphi cut her off. “I know she can be… abrasive.” Her bracelets tinkled lightly against each other as she led Zylah through the doorway into a mess room. Tables and benches lined the walls, orblights casting their soft glow onto exposed brick walls.

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