Page 28 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

“They pay no heed to us,” Okwata added, as if he’d sensed her darkening thoughts. He’d remained on his horse throughout the day, carefully packaging the nastura Zylah had handed to him, offering up his own understanding of certain plants she pointed out as they made their way through the forest, and just like with Ahrek, every now and then she caught a shimmer of something else when she looked at him.

But unlike Ahrek, what lay beneath seemed human in appearance. Rounded ears, softer features.

“Perhaps they see the shadow over you, the way you wear deceits so differently to the rest of the Fae that pass through this forest.”

She never had learnt to hold her tongue, and her curiosity always got the better of her.

Ahrek flashed Okwata a look, but Okwata merely smiled.

“You’re the first to notice,” he said softly. Curious. Zylah made a mental note to ask Holt about it later.

She dismounted, hiding the shake in her legs as her feet hit the ground. She hadn’t eaten lunch when they’d offered, content to continue gathering her plants, to lose herself in the familiarity of it. “We may have only just met, but I’ve seen enough to know whatever reasons you may have for hiding who you are, are not meant with ill intent. And I… I know what it’s like to have to conceal yourself from people who are kind to you. It’s no easy thing.”

Ahrek offered her a tight smile as he handed her the reins to his horse, perhaps as much acknowledgement as he was willing to show. Whatever they were concealing, whatever lay beneath those deceits, that smile told Zylah that the truth of who they were was too great to share even with Ellisar and Lana.

“I won’t say anything to the others,” she added.

Okwata’s horse knelt on its forelegs, head low to the ground as he unbuckled the straps at his legs. Ahrek wheeled the chair closer, but Zylah looked away to offer them privacy as he helped Okwata off his horse. She’d lied about who she was for so long back in Virian. To everyone but Holt. And in the end… when Raif, at last, knew her name…

“There’s a shadow over you, too,” Okwata said gently from his chair.

Zylah couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

Not a shadow.

Something heavier. Darker. Something that snuffed out all light and air and sound, leaving nothing but an empty husk in its wake.

Chapter Nine

FaeriefoodturnedZylah’sstomach. She surveyed the table before her, the murmur of chatter around her fading into one. With a wince, she forced herself to eat a mouthful of the grains she’d piled onto her plate. Resting beneath one of the great trees, a fiddle player began a lively tune, far too jovial for her mood.

Okwata and Ahrek were talking with some faeries, and Zylah silently counted the minutes until she could slip from the table and return to the quiet of her room. Ellisar barked a laugh nearby, and her attention fell on him and Lana, looking at each other as though everyone and everything else around them ceased to exist. Ellisar sliced some fruit, placing it on his mate’s plate and watching her intently as she took a bite. They laughed again at whatever silent words might have passed between them, and all Zylah could see was the love that shone in their eyes, that radiated from them both.

Guilt churned the grains in her stomach again, and she laid down her fork as a shadow passed over her plate. Cloud violas and plumeria. Forcing a smile, Zylah looked up to meet Maelissa’s gaze as the Fae took a seat beside her.

“This is the longest he’s stayed away,” Mae said, throwing a fat berry into her mouth. A sigh. “You’re young. I’m sure—”

“I’m twenty-four,” Zylah said flatly, uninterested in whatever Mae had to say, or where this conversation was leading.Who you take to your bed is no concern of mine,Holt had told her once. His history with Maelissa was none of her business. And yet…

“Precisely the number of years since the last uprising. Curious. Where did you say you were from?”

Zylah’s gaze fell to the Fae’s wrist, to the coils of gold wrapped around them that cobwebbed across her hands and connected with the clawed rings at her fingers.

Kopi landed on Zylah’s shoulder, ruffling his wings, and she finally shifted her attention back to Mae’s face. “I didn’t.”

The Fae pierced another berry with a claw and waved her hand. “Don’t be too disheartened. He always comes back to me eventually. It was only a matter of time. This afternoon was inevitable.” Her full lips closed around the berry, dragging it from the razor-sharp claw, and she scrunched her nose with a smile Zylah suspected might have usually been reserved for children.

Zylah ignored it, along with Mae’s implication. “Holt and I are friends. Nothing more.” She kept the words flat, emotionless, unwilling to give Mae anything to twist and pull apart.

“Good. I hopewecan be friends, too.” Mae brushed a clawed hand to Zylah’s cheek, pressing a swift kiss to the other before she pulled away. The scent of the berries mingled with the cloud violas and plumeria, and it took every inch of Zylah’s resolve not to push off from the table right away.

And Zylah knew, as she watched Maelissa stride away, that the Fae said and did nothing without intention. Sure enough, she could feel the eyes of other faeries watching her as she lifted her fork and scooped up her grains. Mae had seen her discomfort and had wanted to have her fleeing from their encounter like some frightened doe. Zylah forced down a mouthful of food. She wouldn’t bend. Not to Mae. Not to anyone. No matter how—

Kopi’s wings fluttered once before he flew off into the trees.

“Mae’s just jealous because you reek of Holt,” Thallan said with a grin, sliding into place beside Zylah in the seat Maelissa had left unoccupied. Here was the rejected mate gone mad. His words slurred ever so slightly, and he rested his glass on the table with a touch too much force. The other faeries had lost interest as Thallan threw an arm over Zylah’s shoulders, and she thought of Arnir’s vanquicite throne, of the cuffs she’d worn for three days, polished and gleaming as if she were staring at them in her hands.

She could have sworn she felt something in her mind, like a cat brushing up against her legs. He was trying to find a way in. “The last male who tried to touch me without permission,” Zylah said quietly, shrugging Thallan’s arm from her shoulder and angling herself to look him square in the face, “ended up dead.”

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