Page 76 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

She’d long since known they were likely both dead, given that Zack had found her during the last uprising, in the midst of the fighting. That, or they simply hadn’t wanted to keep her, the risk of a half Fae child disrupting their peaceful lives being too great.Live,Holt had said to her.Live, and I’ll help you find your real family.

Soon enough she would have to tell him that she couldn’t uphold her end of their bargain.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Thesoundofcartwheels and chatter pulled Zylah from her sleep. She tried to ignore it, wriggling deeper into the warmth wrapped around her. That shifted in the saddle. Zylah’s eyes shot open.

“Sorry,” she murmured, grateful her hood was still up to hide her blush as she eased forward. Holt unhooked his arm from around her waist, and she wondered if he’d held onto her the entire night. “Where are we?”

“Morren.”

“You rode all night?”

Holt hummed his response as they approached one of the many stables outside the gates. With the threat of a thrall tailing them, Zylah couldn’t say she was surprised.

“Give her an extra bag of feed,” he said, tossing a coin to the stable boy before helping Zylah off their horse. Every part of her ached, but Holt moved just as smoothly as he always did, unbuckling their saddlebags and patting their mare on her neck in thanks. Holt’s ears appeared rounded, human, his deceits firmly in place for their time in the town.

Two days. That was how long they’d agreed to wait for Malok’s spy. How many thrall attacks would there be in that time? There was no evidence of any incidents here, no extra guards on duty, nothing more than two sentries stationed on either side of the gates, one of them occasionally demanding papers from traders. Zylah glanced over her shoulder to convince herself they hadn’t led the thralls to the town.

“We’ll warn the guards,” Holt said beside her, as if he’d had the same thought about the thralls following them.

He stood close as they made their way through the town gates, the streets bustling with people. All human. All free, unlike the two Fae courts they’d visited. Zylah tried to picture the streets with Fae walking amongst them, humans and Fae living alongside each other. Even in her imagination, it felt like a fool’s dream. A thing of stories. Still, she would do whatever she could to make it a reality.

Morren was far busier than Varda, and much louder because of it. The snow had been shovelled away, pushed aside into dirty mounds beside shops and houses. A trade caravan came to a stop just ahead of them, chicken feathers billowing out around the last cart.

“Just like old times,” Holt said quietly as she stepped closer to him to avoid a food vendor. She shot him a small smile as she looked up at him, just in time to notice him hide the quirk of his mouth. He must have thought of their first day in Virian together too, using the words she’d said to him when they’d left Mae’s court.

Zylah tugged off her hood, Kopi making a small noise in protest. Morren felt stifling with so many bodies around, and she quietly wished she had her old cloak on instead. The fashion here was different; her and Holt’s attire made them stand out, earning a few looks from strangers as they passed through the crowds.

“I need to get us some supplies,” Holt said beside her.

She needed more of her tonic, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. “I’ll go look for the ingredients I need for Cirelle.”

Something undecipherable flickered across Holt’s face before he said, “We’re staying at the Bridge Tavern.”

“Let me guess, it’s by the bridge.”

One side of his mouth lifted. He’d been rifling around in one of their bags, pulling out her cloak and swapping it with her coat. It was a little closer to some of the clothes the women wore, enough to help her blend in if she didn’t wear the hood up.

“Stay out of trouble,” he said as he draped the cloak over her shoulders, his long fingers easing her braid out from underneath the fabric.

“Don’t fall off any cliffs.”

His quiet laugh danced down her spine as she walked away without looking back, but she could feel his attention on her until she slipped into the crowd. Kopi had flown off when she’d swapped out her coat for her cloak, and just as well because there was already too much about her appearance that made her stand out here. She unwound her braid as she walked, hoping to hide her face a little with her hair. She’d long since lost her eyeglasses, and she couldn’t maintain the deceit of changing her eye colour in her current state. Holt kept his ears hidden at all times outside the courts, but she’d been able to see through his deceits for some time now.

She thought about his confession back on the pass, of Cirelle’s and Nye’s words to her back in the Aquaris Court. It had been a small change, barely a change at all if she was honest with herself, but it felt like something had shifted inside her. She had been cruel to herself since leaving Virian, she’d realised, at a time when what she’d really needed was kindness.

A group had gathered in the centre of the market as Zylah made her way through the crowds, but she didn’t need to look closely to know it would be priestesses and their acolytes. She followed the scent of herbs and incense, turning down an alleyway with a large bookshop on the corner. A familiar tale sat on display in the window, one she’d read many times. She’d have loved nothing more than to duck inside and explore the shelves, but the sway of wood strings two shops down snagged her attention. Her gaze drifted to the sign the wood strings twisted around. An apothecary.

Zylah pushed the door open, the aroma of herbs and incense wrapping around her. This wasn’t an ordinary apothecary. There were jars filled with ingredients on almost every surface, but it was bursting with other objects: books, plants, bottles and vials, bunches of dried herbs, candles, and crystals in every colour.Skulls.Apprehension had her stomach flip-flopping, but Cirelle was relying on these herbs, and Zylah cast aside her worries to continue her search.

Dozens of shelves reached high above her head, blocking out the light and sound from the town beyond, the incense thick and heavy in the air. Some held bundles of cloth, and once Zylah thought she recognised the familiar fabric of the priestesses’ robes. The deeper into the shop she walked, the more the contents of the jars changed. Eggs. Beaks. Claws. Things in liquid Zylah didn’t want to look too closely at. Something told her most customers didn’t venture this far in, and with good reason. She felt like a fly trapped in a spider’s web, sweat beading on her brow, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave, her feet carrying her further into the shop against her volition.

Her fingers traced the label on a jar. The plant she needed for Cirelle. Zylah had no doubt she’d find almost everything else she needed here too, despite every bone in her body screaming at her to leave. Her thoughts were stuck under a layer of oil, her feelings secondary to her body, pulled by whatever force was at the heart of the shop.

Magic flowed through every shelf, every plant that snaked and wound around jars and bottles as if they imbued life into every item they touched.

She swallowed down her hesitation and followed the only path through the shelves that didn’t have a dead end until she reached a small sitting area, tendrils of power urging her towards the only empty chair.

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