Page 12 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

With anyone else, she’d have hesitated before standing in nothing but her undergarments. But she’d always felt safe with Holt, from the very first day he’d found her, running from Arnir’s men, tired and afraid.

Zylah had no idea what the lump looked like now. She’d only tried to heal the effects of the vanquicite once, out of desperation. Before she’d finalised her tonic. And she’d spent the rest of the night running until the grey light of dawn had broken across the horizon, for fear someone, or rather,something, in Kerthen, would find her. And of course, Zylah knew there was no healing it, only removing it. She felt Holt step closer; heard his intake of breath.

“The lashes didn’t heal.” There was an edge to his voice, a pulse in the air as if his power had flexed from him for a moment.

“My body healed enough for me to travel, but the wounds broke open on more than one occasion, and I couldn’t risk using magic.”

At first, she’d thought she was too tired to heal herself, too exhausted, but then she’d realised Oz, the bounty hunter who’d taken her, must have dislodged the vanquicite somehow when he’d whipped her, and there would be no healing.

“I would never have sent you into Kerthen—”

Zylah spun to face him, shirt clutched to her chest where she still hadn’t unhooked it from her arms. “It’s not your fault, Holt.” His eyes burned as he held her gaze. She knew he would do anything for his friends. Knew precisely what he’d done for Raif and Rose, how responsible he must have felt for everything that happened. She looked away. “It’s mine.”

“Turn around. Please.” His words were clipped, and he didn’t object to her admission of fault. Maybe he blamed her. Maybe he saw how the responsibility fell with her alone.

She did as he asked, the warmth of his calloused hands seeping through the back panel of her bralette to her skin. She felt the pulse of his magic, and though it diminished the ache, the vanquicite was still there. Despite herself, she couldn’t help the quiet sigh that escaped her as more power flowed from Holt’s fingertips and the ache lifted.

His fingers grazed the vanquicite lump for a moment before he pulled his hand away, and Zylah shrugged the shirt back over her head.

“That helped a lot more than I’d expected it would. Thank you.” She slumped back down onto the lounger, feeling lighter than she had in months. “My turn to offer you my bed.”Shit.“I’ll take the floor, I mean, because you gave up your bed at the tavern,” she added quickly. Gods, she hadn’t meant it to sound like an invitation.

Holt’s mouth twitched. “I’ll take the floor.” He turned away from her, pulling his wet shirt over his head and hanging it by the fire. Firelight danced off thick muscle, his bronzed skin marred only by the scar that ran along his arm and up to his neck.

Zylah looked away, tugging at one of the blankets that rested over the back of the lounger and resting it on the floor for him. The cabin hadn’t come with a bed, and even if she’d had enough coin to buy one the space was too small.

Despite Holt’s magic, exhaustion gnawed at her bones. She could still feel the lingering effects of the fight on her body, the softness of the lounger beckoning her to close her eyes as Holt moved to the floor beside her. Seeing him outside her cabin brought everything to the surface, everything she’d tried to bury since making it out of Kerthen. And Zylah knew she couldn’t face it all, not now, not when it threatened to break her apart. Shutting it all out was better. Easier.

“How’s my brother doing?” she asked, hoping he’d mistake the shake in her voice for exhaustion.

“Zack’s fine. Rose and Saphi too.”

She leaned over the edge of the lounger to look down at him. He was lying on his back, one arm resting above his head—the same position she’d seen him fall asleep in so many times back in Virian. He hadn’t changed into another shirt, and seven gods, again she was struck by how beautiful he was. “Holt?”

Green eyes met hers. “Yeah?”

“The spell needs work. I knew someone was following me.”

Holt’s brow pinched together again. “When?”

“You were in the market, weren’t you? Before I spoke to Sasha, my friend. And on my way home from the fight. I could feel someone was there. So we’ll need to work on that.”

One eyebrow raised a fraction as he held her gaze, the haunted look from earlier replaced with something like wonder before he shut it down. “Yeah. We do.” In his eyes, honey-coloured flecks turned golden in the firelight, shadows dancing across his face.

She wanted to thank him. For keeping his promise.I’ll find you. But she couldn’t find the words. Instead, she said, “Goodnight, Holt,” and shifted back onto the centre of the lounger to settle down for sleep.

“Goodnight, Zylah.”

It was only then that she let the tears fall, silently, keeping her breaths steady. She hadn’t let herself break since leaving Virian, but now she was no longer alone, she couldn’t help it. The last of the pieces holding her together shattered completely.

Chapter Five

Therehadbeenatime in Zylah’s life when the most she knew of the Fae was what she read about in the books Kara had stolen for her. When they were nothing but stories of preternatural beings finding their mate and saving each other from whatever dark fate awaited them; always a happy ending. Too bad it didn’t work out that way in real life.

She was still sprawled out on the lounger, listening to Holt’s quiet breathing after a night of sleeping more peacefully than she had since leaving Virian, when the sound of shuffled footsteps outside marked someone nearby.

Holt was on his feet, making for the door.

“Wait,” Zylah said quietly enough for his Fae ears to hear her. “It’s Sasha.” Zylah would recognise the old woman’s hobbling gait anywhere.

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