Page 35 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

Zylah whirled at the voice.

A woman.

Braided hair and violet eyes like her own, a shimmer of blue edging her silhouette in the dark.

Zylah looked at her body again. Swallowed. She had wanted to live. To see the world. To be free. And yet… She had nothing to lose now,no one. “Sometimes,” she whispered. Because sometimes she wished it had been her instead of her father. Instead of Mala and Asha. Instead of Raif.

She heard her name as if it were being called from somewhere far away and looked over her shoulder into nothing but darkness.

“Do you know who I am?” the woman asked. She held herself like the statues Zylah had seen so many times beside doors and in streets and outside temples.

“Pallia,” she murmured.

“Blood of my blood. You have been through so much. But so much more awaits you yet.”

“Zylah!”the voice from before called, and this time Pallia looked in the direction the sound came from.

Zylah frowned, her gaze travelling down her body, her real one. One of her legs was covered in blood, a wound so deep she could see bone in several places. The other didn’t look much better. Her face was ashen, her chest barely rising and falling. Kopi sat on her chest, tiny eyes quietly watching.

“You sent him to me?” Zylah asked.

“I did.”

“Is he yours?”

“Very few things in this life belong to us, Zylah.”

Something thumped, like a fist on a wooden door, and Zylah looked over her shoulder again into nothing. She looked back at her body, bleeding out in the dirt.I thought you wanted to live, Holt had asked her once.I do, she’d told him. And no matter how much she hated herself for what had happened to Raif, to her father, to Mala and Asha, a tiny spark of that version of herself still remained.

“Can you help me?” Her voice broke on the words, like something inside her had been cracked open.

Pallia smiled. It was full of warmth, familiarity. She reached out a hand and brushed a strand of hair from Zylah’s eyes. “What is it that you want, Zylah?”

“Second chances are for people who deserve it,” Zylah murmured, reaching out a hand to Kopi. He inclined his head towards her fingertips, but they passed right through him. She didn’t deserve to go back. And yet… she felt a tug… the pull of her physical body, a feeling in her chest screaming at her to stay.

“Zylah!”

Pallia took her hand. Squeezed it, and Zylah felt the warmth as if she were real. As if they both were. “There are people waiting for you,” Pallia said. “People who need you.”

Wood snapped and cracked; the thumping increased.

“Marcus is doing dark things with old magic.” Pallia’s voice became rushed, eyes darting in the direction of the sound. “You must stop him. Get the stone removed. It was put there to keep you safe.”

“I don’t understand.”

Pallia smiled, ran a thumb over Zylah’s cheek. “I’m so glad I got to see you.”

“Zylah!”

Light broke through the darkness, and Zylah sucked in a breath so deep she started coughing. She closed her eyes, pressed a hand to her throat, and when she opened them again, she was back in her body, the pain in her legs like a fire had been lit across her skin.

Something cracked and creaked again, and Pallia was gone. Kopi fluttered around Zylah’s chest, making tiny, distressed noises.

“Zylah!” It was Holt, and he’d broken into… whatever it was she was inside. “Don’t you fucking die on me.” He was breathless, his movements frantic as pieces of wood splintered and sprayed beside Zylah. “We had a bargain,” he said, his hands trembling as they rested on her face, eyes wild and full of concern as he looked down at her. She’d never seen him like that, never seen such desperation in his eyes.

Zylah reached a hand up to his cheek, ran her thumb along the blood that had smeared across it. “You always find me,” she murmured, her eyes closing, her hand falling from his face.

She heard his intake of breath, felt the warmth of his hands near her wounds, his magic pouring from him. “You agreed to live, and I agreed to help you find your family, remember?” he said roughly.

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