Page 69 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

Rin and Kej shared another look, Kej’s shoulders sinking as he released a breath, before Rin said, “Of course.”

She knew what they were risking. They hadn’t known her for very long. Would see her exactly as she was, half Fae, having spent most of her life amongst humans. Half Fae, with something to gain from her time in the court. And though Zylah wanted to earn their trust, glancing around the room full of small grubby faces staring back at her, more than that was the desire to help.

One of the children hid behind Kej’s back as Holt entered the room, fingers curled into the Fae’s shirt.

Zylah lifted Kopi from her shoulder, reached for Holt’s hand and deposited the tiny owl in his palm. Kopi didn’t even open an eye, just sank his head further into his feathers and nuzzled into Holt’s warmth.

“See?” Zylah said brightly. “A friend.”

Holt raised an eyebrow at Kej. “Looks like we have a spell to teach you,” he said quietly, lowering to a crouch as Rin led a little girl over to examine Kopi more closely. The spell that concealed sound and scent, the spell they’d been using since leaving Varda.

The spell that Marcus had discovered, and they were still no closer to finding out how.

Zylah sat on the floor beside Holt, answering the children’s questions as they crowded around Kopi. Most of them weren’t old enough to string a proper sentence together, and there were far more than Zylah had first realised.

Blankets and pillows were strewn across the room, toys and drawing materials scattered here and there.

“Where are their parents?” Zylah asked.

Rin jerked her chin to another door on the far side of the room. “Through there with the older children. They’re sick and they don’t want to pass it to the little ones, so we’ve been helping out.”

Now that Zylah paused to listen over the noise of the children, she could hear coughs and splutters from the next room. Disappointment and anger flared in her chest, all of it directed at Malok. That not only would he let the world beyond this court suffer, that he would deny Holt his army, but that his own children would have to concealthisfrom him. That helping humans had to be such a secret, they were hidden here, in a forgotten part of the court that looked as if it had been abandoned years ago.

She didn’t need to glance at Holt for his confirmation before she spoke. “We can help. If they can’t be healed with magic, I’ve worked in apothecary most of my life.”

Rin shot her brother a look. Kej had been quiet, watching the situation unfurl, children still dangling from him as he sat amongst them.

He heaved a sigh. Peeled another child from his shoulders and deposited her beside him, passing her a doll made of brightly covered fabric. “This will jeopardise your position with our father. But I can’t deny we need the help. We’re sort of drowning here.” As if on cue, the little girl ascended his shoulders again, resuming her previous position, hands holding firmly to the Fae’s forehead.

Zylah hid her smile in her shoulder, eyebrows raised at Holt, willing him to answer for her.

“We’d be glad to,” Holt said to Kej, but his eyes remained fixed on Zylah’s, and she knew he was holding back a smile of his own.

They left Kopi with Kej and the children, following Rin to see to the adults and older children in the adjacent room. The space was much larger than the first, thirty or so bedrolls laid out across the floor with humans either curled up asleep or huddled up beside each other.

Zylah quickly established that they all had a mild flu she’d seen countless times over winters past, listing off items for Rin to retrieve from the kitchen and for Holt to summon from around the court as she set up a space to work. It hadn’t quite been a week since Rin and Kej had brought the humans into the court, and Zylah advised them that they would likely still be contagious to the smaller children for a few more days, that keeping them separate had been the right decision.

By late afternoon, with Holt’s help, she’d made tonics for everyone, and a balm for them to rub onto their chests and ease their breathing. It had been slow, steady work, that she’d fallen into with a familiar rhythm, her hands methodically working with barely any thought. She couldn’t count how many times she’d made these exact items alongside her father, night after night in his little shop. For the first time, when she thought of him, there was no stab of guilt over his death. Only the quiet desire to talk to him, to argue with him about what ingredients made the best salve, to hear him complain about the customers who never listened to his recommendations.

“What were you thinking about just now?” Holt moved quietly beside her, helping her tidy away her temporary workstation.

She considered an excuse. But then she remembered her promise to him. “My father. Why’d you ask?”

“You looked… peaceful.” He held the door open for her as they made their way back into Rin and Kej’s makeshift nursery. The pair had left for a meeting—damage control—as Rin had referred to it and asked if they could watch over the children until their return.

“So this is what they do every night? Go searching for humans in need of help?” Zylah asked, picking up empty bowls that had been filled with soft fruits only moments before, half the contents smeared across tiny hands and faces.

Holt took a seat on the floor beside a little girl who played alone. “Their village was destroyed by thralls,” he said softly, watching the girl closely. He clicked his fingers. One of the other children began to cry, and Zylah scooped him up to soothe him, wiping fruit off his face with her thumb. Some of the others started crying, but the little girl didn’t look up from her wooden blocks.

Zylah wasn’t a natural with children. But enough had come into the apothecary with their parents for her to know how to calm them, to tease a laugh from them when she needed to administer a drop of tonic under the tongue or a balm to a scraped knee.

Holt tapped the little girl on the arm and waved his hand. She put down her blocks and waved back. “Hi,” he said, waving again. She rubbed at her eyes and tried to fight a yawn.

“Tired?” Holt asked, pressing his hands to the side of his face, palms together, head tilted as he looked down at her.

The girl curled into the nearest cushion, and Holt carefully pulled a blanket over her.

“Sleep,” he said softly, moving his right hand over his face, eyes and fingers closing as he reached his chin, sighing like he was tired too.

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