Page 90 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

The vanquicite wasn’t the only thing that was gone. Somewhere between leaving the Aquaris Court and coming back to it, she’d let go of some of the hate she’d been holding onto. Some of the animosity towards herself that had consumed her, night and day, for months. She hadn’t entirely forgiven herself, for the way she’d handled everything since fleeing the gallows in Dalstead. But she’d meant what she’d said to Holt. She was tired of shutting everything out. Everyone. And punishing herself, pushing everyone away, it had only been harming her more.

She eased her hand away from beneath Holt’s, began to push herself upright against the headboard. He watched her closely, every muscle coiled with tension and restraint, his attention only shifting when he seemed satisfied that she was comfortable before he poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on her bedside table.

“I’ll make you some tea as soon as Deyna has checked on you,” he said as she took a sip, his voice still soft and quiet.

“The healer?”

He nodded.

There was so much she needed to say, but everything had happened so quickly. The last thing she remembered was him holding onto her, healing her as Deyna pulled the vanquicite from her body. How much pain he’d been in and how, for a moment, her magic had coiled around his before he’d told her to stop. Before he’d poured and poured so much of himself into her to keep her heart beating, she’d been afraid his was going to give out first. The air seemed to thicken around them, and she knew from the way he carefully assessed her that he was thinking of it too.

“You almost died,” she whispered, her brow pinching as she tilted her head to look at him. She’d never seen him look so ruffled; the cool mask of indifference he normally wore eroded to the raw concern etched across his features.

“I’d die a hundred times for you.”

Her heart beat faster at his admission, and without thought, she reached for him again, but he caught her hand. Swallowed.

“You need to see something,” he said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles and sending a shiver through her body. “Can you stand?”

Zylah pulled the blanket aside, the silk night dress riding up her thighs as she lithely swung her feet to the floor. She felt weightless—hadn’t realised how heavy a burden the vanquicite had become. The tiles were cool against her feet, the silk of her nightgown a soft rasp against her skin. Holt’s fingers closed around hers as she looked up at him, and he gently urged her to follow him to the corner of the room, to the door that connected her room to his. But then he stopped. Angled her towards the mirror. She watched his reflection as he took a step back, looking at her over her shoulder in the glass.

And then her attention snagged on delicately pointed ears.Herpointed ears. Not his. Her heartbeat quickened as she reached a hand up to them to check they were real. Her eyes were brighter, too. Zylah glanced down at her hands, turning them over. Her eyesight had improved. How was this possible? She took a step closer to the mirror to examine her face. She had the same preternatural look about her as all the other High Fae she’d seen, a wild kind of otherworldliness that even without the pointed ears, would have marked them as different.

For a moment, she felt like a fraud. Let that familiar voice that used to whisper dark things in her thoughts tell her that she’d deceived so many people, made them believe she was half human. Tricked them. But then she pressed a hand to the mirror, her breath clouding on the glass, and willed the voice to be silent. To do nothing except take in the sight of herself, the flecks of blue in her eyes that were so bright they were almost aquamarine, the way her hair fell over her ears and spilt over her shoulders.

And with the silence came a sense of rightness. A settling in her bones she hadn’t felt before. It didn’t matter that all trace of human was gone. It had never been who she was, and hiding had almost killed her.

“Pallia said the vanquicite was put there to keep me safe. Is this what she meant—to hide me? From whom? Marcus?” She met Holt’s eyes in the mirror. He hadn’t moved since he’d stood behind her. Just watched her carefully, as he had since the moment she’d woken up, every inch of him still coiled tight.

“I—” A knock sounded at the door. Frustration flickered in his eyes, but he shut it down just as quickly as it had appeared. “Come in, Deyna,” Holt called out.

An old woman slipped into the room, the door closing softly behind her. Not Fae, Zylah noted. “Aren’t you magnificent?” she said with a bright smile, her face all soft creases and wrinkles. Her eyes were as blue as the ocean beyond the court, her white hair swept up into a messy top knot, ringlets escaping their binding and bouncing as she strode over to the mirror to stand beside Zylah. “I believe the vanquicite was left in there far longer than it was intended to be, but you’ve built up an almighty resilience to it, haven’t you?” She took Zylah’s hand and led her back to the bed.

Zylah realised Deyna was speaking quietly, just as Holt had been, and why her own voice had sounded so wrong. Everything was louder. She sat on the edge of the bed, questions turning themselves over on the tip of her tongue as she took in the truth of what she was. Not half Fae. But High Fae, and already she could feel how her body had changed, become stronger, not just without the vanquicite, but because of the pure Fae blood that now ran unhindered through her veins.

Deyna sat beside her and pressed the back of her hand to Zylah’s forehead. “In all my days I’ve never seen vanquicite used this way. It nullifies Fae abilities, but to hide it in you when you were just a babe.” Her smile turned sympathetic, sorrowful as she checked Zylah’s pulse at her wrist. “Someone must have been desperate to hide you. To keep your Fae identity hidden. I’m told you used your abilities for the first time only a year ago?”

Had it been a year? Zylah supposed it had. It felt like years had passed since she’d fled Dalstead. She nodded at the healer.

“Your body was fighting back, trying to expel it from your system. I don’t think it was lodged in your spine to begin with. I think that happened as you grew up, grew around it, but in trying to dispel it, it was pulled into your bones. Your blood,” Deyna added.

Zylah paled, and the healer patted her knee affectionately, as if she were speaking with a grandchild. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you this. But I want you to know that whoever put it there meant you no such cruelty. It would have been done out of fear. Out of love.” She pulled a vial from the folds of her brown dress. “Add this to your tea, it will help with any headaches as your senses adjust. Just a few flakes at a time though.”

Zylah took it from her, uncorked the vial and winced. The smell was so potent, she had to cork it immediately. It reminded her of her own tonic, with a heavy undertone of baylock. The scent snapped her out of her daze, her eyes widening, and she turned her attention to Holt. “The baylock tea. Both the thrall and the vampire. Laydan. Is he alright? And Daizin?”

He eased the vial from her hand, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “Laydan stole the key.”

Zylah felt the colour drain from her face. “Laydan?”

Holt nodded. “And the book.”

Deyna murmured something and pressed a hand to Zylah’s back. “Just checking, then I’ll take my leave. You’ll have some scarring, but—”

“Thank you,” Zylah said, taking the woman’s hand in her own. “I don’t know how you did it, but you saved my life.”

The old woman laughed, patted her hand. “He helped me.” Her eyes flicked up to where Holt was making tea. “You both did. And I’m glad to have helped. You did Cirelle a great service, and Rin, from what I understand. This world needs to hold on to people like you.”

Zylah squeezed her hand in thanks, and Deyna made for the door. “I’ve managed to secure a few more days for you to rest here, but after that Malok has requested that you leave. I’m sorry we won’t get to spend more time together. But you’re in good hands.” Her attention flicked to Holt then back to Zylah. “Send for me if you need anything.” She left as quietly as she’d come in, leaving only the sounds of Holt making tea and the ocean crashing on the rocks far below the court.

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