Page 16 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

That spell of his really needed some work. She tilted her head up to look at him as he joined her, a pair of saddlebags thrown over his shoulders like they were nothing but pebbles.

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes never breaking away from hers. He’d always been so good at hiding his feelings, keeping his expression neutral, but she’d always seen a warmth in his eyes when he looked at her, some of those hard edges softening.

Zylah cleared her throat, peeling her gaze away from his to wave a hand at the bags. “I’m sure there’s a joke here somewhere about a donkey.”

Holt angled his head, his mouth quirking as he tried to hide a smile. “I thought you were going to say something about how good I looked in leather.”

“Pallia bless you,” the same priestess from moments before said brightly as she passed so close to Holt that the hem of her dress swished against his legs. He didn’t acknowledge the woman, but Zylah met the priestess’s gaze, the woman’s cold smile sending a chill down her spine before she forced herself to look away, all the lightness from moments before obliterated.

They returned to the tavern as darkness fell, the revellers within already full to the brim with ale. A drunk staggered across their path, eyes widening as he took in Holt’s size. His gaze fell to Zylah, but she had no energy to bark at him, easing past Holt instead to make for the stairs.

“Couldn’t get the coat she wanted? Better show her a good time up there, aye?” the drunk said as she carried their things to their room.

She found the wooden door with the same scratched mark as the one on their key, the lock rusty and old. The room was small but pleasant, patterned rugs layering the floor and faded tapestries hung on the walls in the same autumn shades as the curtains. One bed, no lounger. A small table and two chairs. No orblights here, just candles, and she took to lighting them with the flint box, one by one.

Holt returned a few moments later, a tray of food in his hand, two bowls of watery stew side by side. “It was all they had left, but it’s hot.”

Zylah didn’t feel like eating. She unlatched the window, eyes roaming over rooftops to search for Kopi, but he’d flown off earlier on their way back from the market. He was nocturnal after all, but he spent so much time with her during the day Zylah often forgot the fact.

She emptied the contents of her apron on the bedside table and turned to Holt.

“You take the bed tonight,” he said before she had a chance to speak, watching her carefully.

Zylah frowned.

“We can swap next time,” he said gently, as if he knew how much trouble she was having holding herself together. He set the tray down on the table, the saddlebags beside it and took a seat.

Zylah nodded. Holt didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t feel like talking. Didn’t feel like doing anything, the emptiness that had cracked open pulling her down, down, down. She shrugged out of her cloak and apron, kicked off her boots, and climbed into bed in the rest of her clothes, her back to Holt.

Raif’s necklace stared back at her in the candlelight, the azure stone glittering and winking at her. She reached out and turned it over. Scrunched her eyes tight and willed sleep to claim her.

But it was never that easy, her insidious thoughts whispering to her, swallowing up anything good until exhaustion finally pulled her under.

Chapter Six

“Youstilltalkinyour sleep,” Holt told her the next morning as she stepped out of the bathroom. He sat beside the window, stroking Kopi on the head, two mugs steaming beside him.

Zylah frowned. “Anything interesting?”

“Something about priestesses.” He took a sip of his tea, the scent of honey and alea blossom drifting from it as he watched her.

Zylah thought back to the first day they’d met, when she was running from Arnir’s men. He’d made her honey and alea blossom then, told her she was half Fae. Another version of herself, the human one, chipped away. She took the seat opposite him and Kopi nuzzled her hand. “I’ve seen them more and more in the last couple of months. And yesterday it looked like they were recruiting.”

His forest green eyes fixed on hers. “Isn’t that what they do? Indoctrinate the masses into believing in false gods?”

Zylah looked away, out of the window across the rooftops. Ice glittered in a few places the sun hadn’t yet touched. Soon it would remain until spring. “It just feltoff.” She wished now that she’d paid them closer attention back in Dalstead, but back then she’d had nothing to suspect. Nothing to fear. She reached for Raif’s necklace, but it wasn’t there. She’d left it beside the bed, upturned.

Zylah could still feel Holt’s gaze on her as he said, “You didn’t eat anything last night. Would you like breakfast?”

“Just the tea is fine. Thank you.” Out of the corner of her eye, Zylah could see the momentary pinch of his eyebrows, the way he rubbed at his jaw. She was hungry. But the gnawing in her stomach was just distracting enough to drown out the roaring in her head, to stifle the emptiness that had yawned open.

Holt loosed a breath, whatever words he was going to say fading away in the space between them. “Evanescing is still too great a risk, so I’ve secured a second horse for us. Is there anything you’d like from the supplies I sent to Virian?”

She wanted to tell him what it meant that he’d come for her. But the words lodged in her throat, tangled with everything else she wanted to say. Should have said. “My pestle and mortar. Actually my bundle might—”

The bundle of cloth appeared on the table between them, a canna cake in his upturned palm, and something that might have been a plea settling over his features as he held it out to her. When Zylah didn’t take it, Holt rested the crinkled paper beside her bundle, frowning at the cake. “Rose and Saphi went out with a team of scouts to recruit allies. We’re stretched thin in Virian, but we’re making it work.”

There were extra vials of her tonic in the bundle, and with them, she wouldn’t need to ask for Holt’s help to ease the pain from the vanquicite.

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