Page 5 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

“Is he staying with me, too?” Sasha asked, motioning her head in Kopi’s direction. He’d rested on the perch above her doorstep, eyes closed.

Zylah raised an eyebrow. “You know as well as I do, he does what he wants.” Besides, she’d never risk him getting injured on her behalf.

Sasha reached into a basket at her feet, unravelling something from a piece of cloth. “You’ll need your strength tonight, girl. Take this.” It was a knishi, a local meal made of meat wrapped in pastry. Knowing Sasha, it was likely rabbit inside. Zylah’s stomach rumbled at the sight of it, and with a small laugh, Sasha pressed it into her hands.

“I can’t take this,” Zylah said. Gods knew how much it would have cost Sasha to buy the pastry. Coin she certainly couldn’t afford to part with.

“I’ll be happier watching tonight knowing you did.” Sasha held Zylah’s upturned palms. “I know what you’re thinking. But my boy gave me some butter and flour. I’ve one for myself, too. See?” She inclined her head to her basket, and sure enough, another bundle sat wrapped up inside it.

Zylah smiled. It was far more kindness than she deserved. “Thank you.” She said her goodbyes to Sasha and continued her rounds through Varda, not wanting to waste any time.

Had it not been for the vanquicite weakening her body, she’d have had no concerns about the fight. She’d trained with two Fae princes, seasoned warriors, and she’d continued her training on her days alone in the forest and every day since.

She was relying on her opponents being nothing more than half-starved citizens looking to make some coin for the winter. Just as she was.

She took small bites of Sasha’s knishi, savouring the feeling of real food in her belly as she made her way to her first drop-off. The shrine to Pallia seemed to stare up at her as she approached the green door, the goddess’s eyes burning into her own.Not a goddess, she reminded herself.

Zylah had tapped her knuckles on the door once when she heard the second adult heartbeat inside. The permanently drunk husband.Shit.

He opened the door a crack, eyes widening a little as he took her in. “I thought I told your lot to fuck off. We don’t want to buy anything.” The door slammed in her face.

Zylah bit her lip, weighing up her options. She had two coppers in her pocket for the young mother, and she couldn’t risk the husband taking them, or worse, his temper if she tried to give them to his wife. She couldn’t risk taking them to the fight either. Zylah glanced left and right down the street, crouching beside the shrine, and tucked the two coins underneath the statue of the goddess. At least they would be safe until her next visit.

She finished the rest of her rounds without incident, the streets starting to fill as darkness fell. Half the town seemed to be on their way to tonight’s fight, but that would only work in her favour.

The more bets, the more coin the victor took home.

She could already hear the noise from the structure they called the arena, a sorry looking ring surrounded by benches and towering stacks of hay on the far side of town. Exhilarated voices and oddsmakers called out to the crowd.

Zylah’s skin prickled with anticipation, a knot of apprehension settling under her ribs. She sucked in a breath and stroked a finger across Kopi’s head. “Time to go, buddy. I don’t want you too close for this.” He hesitated for a moment and then flew on ahead. Zylah smiled. He made straight for the arena, to find a place to watch, no doubt.

Zylah glanced behind her, feeling eyes on her amongst the crowd, but saw nothing but groups making their way towards the venue, none paying her any heed. With a frown she made her way to the side entrance, checking the tightness of her braid and pulling the strips of linen she’d prepared the night before from her pocket, wrapping them around her knuckles.

A bouncer stood before an open door, thick arms folded across his broad chest. “Spectators that way.” He didn’t even look at her as he spoke. He’d been in his fair share of fights judging by his face—marred with scars, a broken nose, a missing tooth.

“I’m here to fight.” Zylah stood tall and looked him right in the eye. She’d had plenty of practice at hiding, but she knew how to hold her ground. How to ooze confidence even if she didn’t feel a shred of it in her bones.

The bouncer’s gaze met hers, eyes sliding too slowly down her body to her wrapped hands, and back up to her face again. He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Shame. Your funeral.”

He stepped aside to let her in, and Zylah’s eyes adjusted to the darkened room beyond. No time to slide a besa leaf into her mouth to calm her nerves, not with four pairs of eyes watching her from the shadows.

“And who the fuck are you?” a tall, skinny man asked.

Zylah slid her hands into her pockets and did her best to look bored. “Here to fight.”

The man scoffed. “Got a name?”

Zylah shrugged. “Call me whatever you like.”

Another man stepped up to her. He was almost as big as the bouncer outside, but he moved awkwardly, and Zylah suspected the muscles were just for show. “I’ve seen you in the market, with that owl of yours.” His breath was foul, his stench suggesting he hadn’t had a bath in weeks. “Folks can’t decide if you’re a witch or Pallia in disguise.”

Zylah didn’t baulk as she stared up at him. “My name is Liss.”

The skinny man rubbed a hand against his chin. “We’ll call you Little Bird.” He pressed a hand to the other man’s chest to usher him back a step. “Four fighters. Six fights to begin with, then we’ll see how everyone’s faring after the first round. Got it?”

Zylah nodded. Where she’d found her resolve, she didn’t know, but she said a silent thanks to Pallia, nonetheless.

The wannabe bruiser sneered at her. “We’ll try not to touch the face, won’t we, fellas?” The two remaining fighters laughed along with him.

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