Page 39 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

Zylah looked up to meet his gaze, silently questioning how much she should tell him.I’ll find you, he’d promised her when they’d said goodbye outside of Virian. And he had.

A commotion at the bar pulled her attention away from him, but still, she couldn’t hear what words were being exchanged, could only observe the hands that rested on shoulders, the weary faces that knocked back their ale. She knew the look in their eyes, recognised their nervous glances at the door.They were afraid of something.

“On that first night I remembered my father’s words,” she said quietly. “He’d told me once that if you can light a fire your morale will be raised; if you fail it will plummet like a stone. But I was too afraid to light a fire, so I wandered in the dark until dawn.”

Holt was utterly still beside her, the air between them seeming to hum for a moment and though it barely lasted the span of a breath, she knew it was his magic.

“I ate plants to begin with,” Zylah continued, wiping at the crumbs on the table. “I figured out how to track, but I had no bow. Hunting and tracking felt familiar to me, seeing without being seen, since I’d already spent enough of my life doing that. And tracking was just about observing. About watching and listening. Looking for the scuffs and disturbances of other animals. But I soon learnt that few animals were safe to eat.”

“How?” She knew he was watching her. But she didn’t want him to see the truth—how her time in Kerthen had broken her. Didn’t think she could stomach his disappointment.

Zylah shrugged. “By examining what was left behind.” It was her turn to frown. “One day I came across a corpse, not my first, but I took the bow and quiver that lay beside it. And I used it to hunt swamp crabs. My training with Zack was basic, you saw that for yourself, but I had plenty of time to practise.”

Holt’s mouth twitched. “Crabs?”

She felt her face involuntarily grimace at the thought, but a small laugh escaped her despite herself. “If I never have to see another crab again, I’ll die happy. I could make one last a week, but they’re fast and if you don’t hit them right, they scuttle away with your arrow.”

Holt chuckled softly, some of the tension seeming to ease out of him.

She told him about the creatures she’d seen, some that he had names for, others he didn’t. About the nights she didn’t dare go to sleep because they were close by. She told him everything, and it felt good to share it with someone, to hear it spoken out loud and know that it hadn’t all been in her head.

Well, almost everything.

There had been difficult decisions—mistakes. A bargain that should never have happened, should never have been possible when Zylah let herself dwell on it, but telling him now wouldn’t change that it had.

“But then I ran out of arrows,” she said at last, “and I was forced to leave Kerthen for good.” The group at the bar had grown bigger, but Zylah was far too tired now to make out what they were saying. She waved a hand over her shoulder. “The pain was too much to keep digging for plant roots to grind down into food, and I knew I couldn’t stay.”

Holt’s hand slid across the table, but the lute player abruptly stopped, and all heads turned towards one of the patrons.

The priestess.

“A great darkness is coming to Astaria,” she said, walking amongst the crowd. The patrons mumbled to each other in hushed voices, some pulling their partners close. “And we must protect ourselves.” The priestess took the hand of one of the barmaids, the prettiest one, the one most eyes would pay attention to, and looked at her with equally beautiful eyes.

“We must join together and spread light across our lands, to chase these shadows away as we have done before, time and time again. We cannot falter. For the sake of our children, and their children. Join us.”

She cupped her free hand under the barmaid’s chin the way one might hold the face of their child, a look of unrelenting love written across her face.

So polished. So practised. Zylah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew a lie when she heard one. The priestesses were merely preying on humans to use them. And yet… “A great darkness. Does she mean what I think she does?” she asked Holt so quietly only his Fae ears would hear.

He leaned closer, angling his head to hers as they watched the priestess move through the crowd, her acolytes close behind her. “Marcus has done little to keep the vampires a secret. They suffer from bloodlust when they’re first created and can take time to settle. But an army requires substantial numbers—one that is made, relying on creating soldiers; it’s taking him much longer to grow his force. But this could be a problem.”

“The priestesses?”

“You said it yourself. They’re recruiting a human army. If they have their own cause, they’re less likely to fight with us.” Against Marcus. He didn’t need to say it. “I’ll need to send word to Zack; he isn’t just our liaison, he’s coordinating the Black Veil back in Virian.”

It was no surprise Zack was coordinating them too, despite the risk to his life. Despite the fact that Marcus would have had eyes and ears across the city.

Zylah hadn’t truly stopped to think about the magnitude of what was coming, but now she understood Holt’s eagerness to recruit allies.

The Fae were truly at risk of being wiped out for good. She watched the acolytes pulling aside the members of the crowd the priestess had spoken to, murmuring into drunk and eager ears as the realisation settled.

War was coming to Astaria, and its people were more divided than ever.

Chapter Thirteen

Ittookmorethana few hard days of riding through snowstorms to cover any noticeable distance. The flurry had become so thick that on a few occasions, they’d almost turned back. Holt had purchased another horse for them back at the village, and they’d since been heading east, towards the Delmara Peninsula, towards the next court Holt hoped would offer aid.

If Aurelia and Marcus were slowly making an army, if the priestesses were recruiting humans to their cause, Astaria was on the brink of an all-out war. Whether it was months away or a year from now, it was coming, and though Maelissa had made no promises about her archers, Holt hadn’t let that deter him. If anything, it had only seemed to urge him on.

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