Page 54 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

Therewerestillmoreingredients Zylah needed to source if she was going to be able to make something half decent for her pain. But with the storm, there would be no returning to the forest just yet. Winters in Astaria were never easy, but if it meant slowing any progress Marcus had been making, Zylah would endure the cold forever if she had to.

It was barely noon and already she felt drained, emptied out. Her lack of sleep hadn’t helped, and she shifted her thoughts from Cirelle’s lingering words to the nightmare that had first woken her. To the way Raif’s skin had been rotten and decayed like the other thralls’, how she’d awoken to someone calling her name.

It had been the same back in Kerthen, night after night. The nightmares had been different, but, then it had happened again, with Pallia.

Only she hadn’t been dreaming then, had she?

A tongue clicking was the only warning she had before a male voice behind her said, “Half Fae scum. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Zylah froze for a heartbeat, fear stealing her breath. But she snuffed it out. Turned to face the male, head held high, one hand on the hilt of the blade tucked into her bracer. She silently scolded herself for how much she’d come to rely on Kopi keeping watch, that she’d let herself walk around in a strange place with her guard down as not one, but three Fae males blocked the corridor from the way she’d just entered just a few strides away from her.

“You look familiar.” Zylah recognised the three of them from the funeral, how they’d smirked at her the night before. A tall, stocky blond; an older Fae, with a lean build and peppered black hair fastened above his head in a knot. And the one who had spoken, cropped brown hair and a wide grin across his face like he was the biggest asshole she’d ever have the pleasure of meeting.

She took a moment to assess their clothes, the way they held themselves, what weapons they might have had concealed on them. She hadn’t seen them fighting during the thrall attack, but that could have been equally as advantageous for her as otherwise. And though she’d had a few months of training from both Raif and Holt, Zylah wasn’t a fool. Three against one was something, but if they were highly trained? That was another.

“Take a good look. Ours will be the last faces you see.” The asshole nodded once to his companions, and they both drew pencil-thin daggers from their sleeves, the same ugly sneers from the night before plastered across their faces.

Zylah sucked in a breath. Once she would have frozen. Would have succumbed to the fear as it rooted her to the spot. But where there was once fear, now there was only an icy rage, sharper than the tips of the blades the Fae held before her. She’d fought so hard to claw back the piece of herself Jesper had taken from her, and she would not let go of it without a fight. She would not be a victim again.

Zylah didn’t wait for the males to make the first move. She evanesced to the blond, slashed her dagger across the back of his hand and moved away before his blade clattered to the stone floor. She’d already moved behind the older Fae, pressing her dagger to his ribs.

“Drop it,” she hissed, as Blondie swore and clutched his hand to his chest.

The male didn’t move. Zylah pressed harder.

“Do as she asks, Daven,” the asshole Fae commanded.

Zylah shot a glance at Blondie as he swore again, inspecting his wounded hand, and the moment cost her. Daven whirled away from the tip of her blade, swiping at her face with his dagger.

She reacted just a fraction of a second too slowly, the bite of metal so sharp she could feel the warm trickle of blood on her cheek before the burning pain from the wound. But Zylah didn’t stop to think about it. She evanesced back to Blondie, reaching for his knife only to slash it across his thigh. The Fae cried out as Zylah reappeared beside Daven, slamming the blade into his knee so hard it pierced right through the other side.

Daven screamed as she evanesced away, chest heaving, back to where she’d been before they’d crept up on her. She held out a hand to summon Daven’s blade and didn’t let her flicker of surprise show across her face as she held it ready to throw at Asshole.

“I’ve had plenty of target practice,” she said quietly, with as much of a bite to her words as she could manage through her pain. She didn’t need to tell him the target had been a poster of her own face, on countless nights alone in Kerthen and Varda.

Asshole looked between his two companions, grinding his teeth together as if he was thinking. Slowly.

But he didn’t have the chance to speak; Holt and Malok evanesced between them, and the Fae stumbled back a step.

“What is the meaning of this, Selas?” Malok demanded.

A ripple of power filled the space between them all, and Zylah knew the three males had felt it from the way the colour leeched from their faces.

She recognised Holt’s magic at once, didn’t need to look up to know he’d done it as a silent warning, didn’t need to move her gaze just a fraction to know he was watching her, his attention fixed on the wound on her cheek.

Zylah loosed a breath, but she didn’t lower the blade. Not yet.

Blondie had fallen to his knees, clutching his good hand to his thigh and his injured hand to his chest, blood smeared across his tan skin.

“Which one of them did this to you?” Holt asked, taking a tentative step towards her. Another wave of his magic thickened the air around them, his eyes darkening. The three males yielded a step, backing away from the threat of that power. Lethal. Deadly.

With a flick of her wrist, Zylah released Blondie’s blade. “I’m fine.” It hit her target in the dirt, right beside his feet. She looked Selas in the eye as she said, “It’s nothing.”

Malok glanced between them, and again Zylah saw something pass over his features, as if he wore a deceit to disguise his true face. “Go to my chambers. I’ll deal with this.”

Holt evanesced them before Zylah had the chance to object. When he released her elbow, she brought a hand to her cheek, knowing he’d healed her wound as they’d travelled.Smart.Because he’d known she’d have protested if he’d asked.

“We heard Daven’s cries,” Holt said, as if he knew precisely what she was about to ask. He remained close, and Zylah knew without looking up he was scanning her for any signs of additional injuries.

---