Page 21 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

Thallan’s face seemed to crumple for a moment, his face blanching before he had time to hide it. If she hadn’t just met him, Zylah would have said his concern lingered on obsessive, and she tried not to let her surprise show as she realised who he was. Rose’s mate. Who Rose had rejected. And it had driven him mad, Raif had told her.

The Fae’s hand slid over his heart, elegant fingers curling into his white jacket. “Is she hurt?”

Zylah bit her lip. Looked away to the waterfalls again. She felt Holt’s attention on her before he said, “Raif is dead.”

The words echoed on repeat in Zylah’s thoughts as she fought back the sting in her eyes.

She heard Thallan’s intake of breath. Caught the way he reached for Holt out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry.” His voice thickened. “Sit with me, we’ll raise a glass to him, talk about what brings you here.”

Zylah followed them silently, wanting nothing more than to leave. To go back to the quiet of the pool outside and sink under the surface, with only the constant rumble of the falls to fill her head.

Thallan gestured to a bench at the end of a table of fairies, mountains of food covering most of the surface. He poured them both a glass of wine as they took seats. Zylah pinched at a pile of seeds and nuts, dropping them on her shoulder for Kopi. She wondered if he would leave her soon, fly amongst the trees for some rest, but he didn’t.

“To Raif,” Thallan said, his voice catching slightly as he raised his glass.

Zylah couldn’t speak. Just took a sip of her wine and placed it back on the table. She wasn’t certain if Thallan could sense her feelings as well as look into her mind, so she focused on the image of the vanquicite, polished and gleaming, hoping it would be enough to block him out.

Thallan downed his wine and poured himself another glass. “So what brings you to Lady Maelissa’s court?”

Polished. Gleaming. Black. Nothing.

Nothing.

Holt rested a plate in front of Zylah before taking one for himself and began filling their plates with food. “It was Mae a moment ago.”

Thallan winked, filling a plate of his own and letting Holt’s remark linger.

The band finished their song, faerie laughter filling the pause until they started up again. Only when Holt had piled Zylah’s plate with more food than she could possibly eat in three sittings did he answer. “News of Marcus’s new position has travelled here, I assume?”

The air was stifling. Zylah pushed off from the table, and Holt raised an eyebrow at her in question. She glanced at Thallan, his glass hovering before his lips. “Please… continue without me. I’d like to find Kopi a quiet spot before I eat. He hasn’t slept today.” He’d hopped onto the table to peck at the seeds, head now twitching left and right between them.

Thallan seemed convinced, but she caught Holt’s frown as he looked at his plate of food, also untouched.

She shrugged out of her cloak and left it on the bench beside him, Kopi resuming his position on her shoulder. “I’ll only be a moment.”

Zylah hoped Holt would understand. She couldn’t sit and listen to him explain how Raif died; couldn’t bear to relive every tiny detail. She bit down on her bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood as she walked towards the nearest pool.

A group were gathered beside it, three males and a female. One male sat in a chair with wheels the likes of which Zylah had never seen before. Beside him knelt a… at first glance, he looked like another High Fae, but something about him struck Zylah as odd. He moved with feline grace, passing things to his companion in the chair. Plants.

Zylah’s curiosity was piqued, and she walked closer.

“I’m hopeful this will ease Frea’s headaches,” the male in the chair said. His dark sepia hands held a besa leaf, inspecting the fronds carefully. Besa could help with headaches, but not as much as—

“Nastura,” Zylah said, as she passed the group. “Nastura has stronger anti-inflammatory properties than besa. I saw some in the forest on my way here. It always grows beside cap mushrooms, which are far easier to spot. I’d be happy to bring you some.”

“You have my thanks,” the male in the chair said, dipping his head in gratitude. He also had the pointed ears of a High Fae, but like his companion, Zylah couldn’t shake the sense that they were deceits, magic disguising their true identity.

Zylah nodded and offered a tight smile, but she had nothing left to give to the conversation. She made her way to the far side of the pool, seating herself on a rock and pulling a handful of seeds from her pocket for Kopi. Her gaze drifted to Thallan and Holt’s table, and she noticed Holt still hadn’t touched his food. They were still talking about Raif, she assumed.

She could see the tension in Holt’s body, the way his elbows locked, hands clasped together. He looked up and caught her gaze, as if he’d felt her attention on him, his features softening for a moment. Thallan rested a hand on Holt’s shoulder, and the softness was gone, a frown creasing his brow.

“My mate and I wish to thank you for your kind offer,” a male voice said, and Zylah looked away to see the two Fae who had been on the other side of the pool a moment before making their way towards her.

The female beside him waved with a smile but said nothing. She was beautiful: black braided hair heavy with jewels and gold rings, deep brown eyes that were soft and warm. She wore a floor-length dress in the same shade of pale green as her mate’s clothes, the straps thin and the neckline low against her umber skin, the fabric almost weightless where it clung to her body. Golden bangles adorned each arm, so many Zylah wondered how she ever went anywhere silently.

“The nastura is for my mate’s sister,” the male said. “I’m Ellisar. This is Dalana.” He was as beautiful as his mate, who still had not spoken. His pale green suit was fine but understated. Small, knotted buttons ran down the centre of his jacket, the hem dusted with embroidery a shade darker than the suit. A few braided coils of hair fell across his eyes, and he swept them away, revealing a fine tattoo inked into the tawny skin around his eye. They both had a softness to them, a warmth that took the edge off Zylah’s dark thoughts.

“Zylah.” She pushed to her feet, brushing the seeds from her hands as Kopi returned to her shoulder.

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