Page 42 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

Had Kara known the truth? Sweet, naïve little Kara, who would never hurt anyone. Or had that all been a façade too?

She felt the wards as soon as she stepped through them, the caress of magic as it rolled over her skin. Holt’s deceits had been lifted, the points of his ears poking through his hair. But even with her keen eyesight, she could make out little of the tunnel ahead, could tell nothing of what lay beyond the darkness, but Kopi gave no warning, no sign of unease.

“Humans cannot pass through our wards,” Nye said, her eyes flicking to Zylah’s ears. “Nice to meet you, Zylah. Don’t listen to anything these two tell you, they’re full of horseshit.”

“Cat shit,” Kej corrected with a grin.

“Asshole,” Nye muttered.

Zylah nodded in greeting as she guided the horses in, the door just wide enough to accommodate one at a time. “You’re cousins. Can you turn into a cat?”

Nye arched an eyebrow. “A fox, of sorts, so I tend to keep away from these two when they’re out on patrol.” She took one of the horse’s reins and followed Holt down the passageway, nothing more than a hollowed-out tunnel through the rock.

“Afraid of a little rough and tumble?” Rin asked as Zylah tried to unpick what afox of sortsmight mean. She could almost feel Nye’s eyes rolling, and she wondered if they were always like this, or if it was their attempt to stave away the heaviness of what they were walking towards. Focusing on the flicker of the torchlight was the only thing keeping the ache in her chest from splitting her in two. She wasn’t ready for a funeral.

“The army is why you’re here, isn’t it?” Nye asked Holt, ignoring her cousin.

“If Malok will see me,” Holt said quietly.

An unfamiliar smell permeated the air, and although it wasn’t unpleasant, it reminded Zylah of the fish cart back in Varda. The passageway twisted to their left, widening out on every side until they reached an area where the torchlight no longer bounced off the ceiling.

Nye hummed. “Malok will be glad you’re here today. Jora’s death has hit him hardest.”

“Our people are afraid, Holt,” Kej added.

Holt glanced over a shoulder, shadows flickering across his face. “With good reason.”

“What are we going to do?” Rin asked.

Holt sighed. “Everything we can.” He turned away from them, darkness seeming to swallow the torchlight.

They left the expanse of the room, cave—whatever it was, heading up another unlit passageway. A breeze hit them as they ascended, and a constant, unrelenting roar seemed to reverberate through everything. They passed no one, and Zylah wondered if the last uprising had anything to do with that fact. Holt had told her when they first met that few Fae remained outside of Dalstead, and now she finally understood what kind of numbersfewactually meant.

That the few who were left here were afraid told Zylah all she needed to know.

Nye followed her wondering gaze as daylight seeped into the passageway, revealing carved pillars and arches in the rock. “It’s said that Imala’s lover built this for her.” She ran a hand down a carving of waves, and they seemed to move beneath her fingertips. “A safe haven. Magic flows freely here.”

Imala. Another of the original nine Fae.

It was strange to think of them as anything but gods—but it made sense to Zylah that the humans would have seen them with their powers and their beauty and assumed that they were.

They turned another corner, where two guards greeted Nye and took the horses from them. The roar was louder here, the breeze now a bitter wind as the passageway opened up into a large courtyard of white stone, high above a stretch of blue.

The ocean.

Zylah sucked in a breath as she made her way to the wall on the far side of the courtyard. She’d read about it in books, seen the great expanses at the edges of maps, but she’d never truly appreciated the enormity of it, the power, as waves slammed against the rocks far below, the rhythmic crashing as they ebbed and flowed, crested and broke. It was mesmerising to watch.

“Holt,” a female voice said, but Zylah didn’t look away from the water, not yet. “Good to see your reins have been loosened enough for you to join us today.”

That was enough to turn Zylah’s attention to the High Fae who stood before them.

Long braids coiled with silver and gold rings swept over one shoulder, a silver gown the same colour as her eyes fell snugly over her curves and pooled to the floor. A delicate diadem sat across her forehead, fine strands of silver and gold twisted together, small sapphires dusted amongst the strands. The female’s face remained impassive despite her comment, her attention falling on Rin and Kej.

Holt didn’t move to greet her, merely gave a polite incline of his head, barely a bow, as he said, “Cirelle.”

“He’s in there if you want a moment.” The Fae gestured to a blue door off to her right, torches set into sconces on either side.He.The body of Holt’s friend, Zylah presumed, as if he weren’t dead. As if a funeral wasn’t about to take place.

Zylah pressed a hand to her stomach, dragging Cirelle’s attention to her at last. The Fae frowned, and Zylah silently prayed she wouldn’t throw up all over the white stone at her feet. She couldn’t go to a funeral, considered evanescing anywhere but there, but there were too many eyes on her, too many pairs of ears listening.

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