Page 51 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

“A difficult truth to swallow.”

Zylah looked up to meet his eyes again. “What was truth number one?”

A rare smile. A real one, and it squeezed at something deep within her chest.

“I missed Kopi when you were gone,” he said.

“Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll puff up bigger than a pigeon.”

“Don’t let him hear you liken him to a pigeon.”

It was Zylah’s turn to smile. “Kopi missed you, too.”

Holt’s hand fell from her back, his smile fading. He slid the same hand into his pocket but didn’t take a step back. “Practise summoning items to you and sending them away. Start with something in the next room. Something you can see. Then start increasing the distances.”

Zylah nodded. “That’s what I did with the evanescing. Back in the tunnels in Virian, after you left.”

Holt’s expression darkened. “I had to go. Marcus…” He looked away.

The urge to reach out to him tugged at her fingers, but instead, she fisted them into the hem of her shirt. “What does he have on you, Holt? It’s more than a life debt, isn’t it?” She took half a step closer, so close she could feel the heat from his skin.

Holt’s eyes snapped to hers, dipping lower for a moment. Zylah willed herself to remain still, to not take the final half step to him, no matter how much her bones screamed at her to do it. It had always been the same with him. It was why she’d felt so safe back in Virian. He’d somehow known to be a constant, steady presence in her life but had given her the space she needed, too.

“Truth number two?” he said quietly.

Zylah nodded.

“I had nothing to lose until I met you.” He removed his hand from his pocket and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers stilling near her cheek for a moment.

She brushed her fingers against his. And frowned.

It didn’t matter what he’d said. She’d used Raif. She wouldn’t use him, too. If she lost this,him, she would have nothing left.

Whatever he’d read in her expression made him drop his hand, and she fought for an explanation, of how to tell him everything that slithered its way through her thoughts, but the words seemed to knot in her throat.

Holt took half a step back, his eyes searching hers as if he’d find the answer to a question there. Sadness seemed to settle over him, his voice a little rougher than it had been a moment before when he spoke. “Get some rest, Zylah.”

The knot lodged deeper as she left him alone on the balcony and returned to her room.

Chapter Seventeen

Asnowstormhadmovedin overnight, Zylah had been informed. A note written in fine, slanted writing had notified her at breakfast, signed with anN. Nye. That meant no tracking, no leaving the walls of the court to search for signs of which direction the thralls came from.

She picked at her breakfast, if only so that she wouldn’t have to lie to Holt about eating it. A little bowl of seeds sat beside her plate, and she carried it over to Kopi, nothing more than a tiny ball of feathers on his perch above the wardrobe, still fast asleep. There was no sound from Holt’s room, but that didn’t surprise Zylah.

She’d barely slept, lying awake with only her poisonous thoughts to keep her company. Holt was right. Shehadloved Raif. But not the way Raif had loved her. And she hated that she’d strung him along. That she’d used him to get herself through… everything. It was wretched.Shewas wretched, and the thoughts cycled on repeat until morning, the weight of them pushing and pressing at her chest, threatening to pull her back to the dark oblivion she’d found herself in during her time in Kerthen, the hollow pool of black she only just managed to keep herself out of every day. At some point in the night, she’d taken the necklace Raif had given her and stuffed it under a spare blanket inside her wardrobe.

As the golden light of dawn filtered in through the balcony doors, she realised Holt had never answered her question about Marcus. He owed Marcus a life debt for his sister, but there was more, Zylah was certain of it. A bargain; some reason that Marcus continued to let him wander freely around Astaria, something he sought, perhaps.

She laughed dryly to herself as she dressed. If it were true, maybe she’d feel better about her own reckless choices. Zylah knew the kind of desperation that drove a Fae to make a bargain like that. The memory of it danced along her skin every morning.

Still half asleep, Kopi had flown to her shoulder before she left her room to explore the court. She wasn’t about to sit around all day waiting to be summoned to a meeting, and something told her Malok had every intention of making them wait. No, if she had time to spare, she needed to fill it wisely. And first on her agenda was looking for supplies to replenish her tonics.

With sleep evading her she’d practised summoning items—the book Okwata had given her, a besa leaf from her apron thrown over a chair—until the pain had forced her to take her last vial of tonic. She’d pictured the amantias back in the forest beside Virian, had pulled and pulled on the feeling inside herself, but nothing had appeared in her upturned palm.

So she’d need to seek out the ingredients just like she was used to.

The corridors were empty as she made her way silently through the court, arched windows revealing flashes of blue beyond, the inky ocean blending seamlessly into the horizon. Plant displays were dotted throughout, wall-mounted planters of species Zylah recognised from one of the domes back at the botanical gardens in Virian, with no medicinal properties whatsoever.

---