Page 11 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

Marcus had sent Jesper after her. And though Jesper had delivered the killing blow, it was Marcus who had orchestrated Raif’s death. She blinked the image away as she stared at the fire. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” Her back ached and she tried to hide her wince, aware that Holt was watching her every movement, but as she looked up to meet his gaze he looked away.

“Rose had a vision.” His brows pinched together. “She saw you were sick. Because of the vanquicite.”

Not dead, sick. Zylah could feel the effects of the vanquicite, like it was taking something from her, piece by piece.

Her tithe.

She was a curse; she’d told Raif as much the last time they were together. A monster just like Jesper.

“Rose had her vision, and I couldn’t risk leading Marcus to you, so I went after the remaining bounty hunter. It’s old magic, and Marcus must have a source.”

“How long ago did Rose have the vision?”

“Soon after you left. Cal was difficult to track with the spell covering him.”

Zylah opened her mouth and closed it. It had been six months since she’d left him on the outskirts of the Kerthen forest. Six months since the bounty hunter had whipped her and dislodged the vanquicite in her back, weakening her, and making her sick.

“I need to know more about what we’re up against,” Holt continued. “Saphi thinks the vanquicite in your back was put there with old magic, and we’ll need something to counter Marcus with.”

Zylah nodded. Rose’s partner Saphi was Fae too, but something about her always struck Zylah as different. And it was no surprise Holt sought something to oppose Marcus with. “To balance the scales,” she murmured absentmindedly. “You think we can find someone to remove it?”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

Zylah sifted through her thoughts. She’d spent most of her life believing she was human, and though they hadn’t been kind to her in the time since she’d discovered she was half Fae, she couldn’t stand by and let Marcus and Jesper attempt to wipe them out. And if old magic was what it would take to remove the vanquicite from her back… maybe she could get to them both, take them by surprise.

“I’ve been using my position to learn as much as I can about Marcus’s movements,” Holt said when she didn’t reply. “I want to speak with some allies. See who I can recruit to our cause. If Marcus and Jesper have been making an army, we’ll need every advantage we can get against them.”

Zylah blew out a breath. “And all along, Arnir thought Marcus was his pet.”

“That was thanks to Jesper’s compulsion.” Anger coated his words, and he didn’t meet her gaze.

Zylah’s stomach twisted at the thought of Jesper. “This has been going on for so long. Saphi warned me Marcus plays a long game.” She wanted to ask him then, about whatever hold Marcus seemed to have over him. She knew a little of the life debt he owed Marcus, a deal Holt had struck in a failed attempt to save his sister, and that he couldn’t hear of any harm coming to the new king… but there had to be more to it than that.

“We’ve been busy back in Virian. Calling on old allegiances. Building our numbers, developing what we already had with the Black Veil.”

The Black Veil: the human allies to the Fae back in Virian. Which meant… “You plan to fight?”

His eyes raised to meet hers, something fierce burning within them. Something that felt like hope. “I can’t harm Marcus, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put an end to whatever he’s planning. It doesn’t mean I can’t build an army to match his.” He cleared his throat as if there was more he wanted to say but didn’t.

They needed numbers if they were going to take on an army, and though they had the Fae hiding back in Virian, the humans of the Black Veil, the numbers didn’t amount to an entire army.

They wouldn’t stand a chance without a solid opposing force, but she knew that wouldn’t stop Holt.

He held no regard for his own life, and something told her, whether his allies helped him or not, he’d carry out whatever plans he had regardless, no matter what it meant for him. And despite her fears, she understood. Her life wasn’t worth saving, either.

He looked at his hands, turning them over as if he were looking through them. “What I learnt from Cal feels weak. I haven’t evanesced yet, I’m not certain the spell is strong enough to conceal it. Evanescing is strong Fae magic, but it leaves a different kind of trace to those who know how to look for it. Like an echo.”

Zylah studied him. His hair had begun to dry, a few strands falling across his eyes, that haunted look from before falling over him again, and she wondered if the same bad dreams that had plagued her these last six months had kept him awake at night, too. “But how did you know where to find me?”

Holt frowned. “I recognised Varda from Rose’s description.”

He pushed off the floor and walked over to the poster on the wall, tapping a finger to the dagger she’d left right in the centre. He pressed his fingers to the centre of the parchment, the pieces smoothing together to reveal her face. How many nights had she practised, alone?

The necklace Raif had given her hung from the weapon’s hilt, and she caught the way Holt’s gaze dropped to it and back up to the picture of her face. “Zylah.” It was the first time she’d heard her name in months. Since they’d said goodbye. He turned to look at her, and not for the first time since she’d met him, she couldn’t read his expression, but she thought she saw a trace of anger in his eyes for a moment, and then it was gone. “Can I see it?”

The vanquicite.

Zylah bit down on her lip, choosing her words. “You won’t be able to heal it. I’ve tried.” She turned away from him, pulled her shirt over her head and held it against her chest, waiting.

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