Page 52 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

She wove through empty hallways until the smooth white rock became jagged, untouched by skilled Fae hands. This far along the clifftop, the corridors were nothing but passageways gouged from the rock by simple hand tools, the arched openings replaced by basic holes through which to let in the light.

And where the daylight fell, plants grew. Baylock. Zylah ran her hands along the strings of tiny, round leaves, sifting through her recollection of its properties.Mild pain relief. If she could source some nastura, it could be worked into something a little more potent. Not quite what her tonics provided, but better than nothing. She prised off a few leaves, moving slowly from plant to plant to make sure she didn’t harvest too much, working her way deeper into the jagged rooms, the scent of the ocean permeating everything.

If there was any chance of getting close to Marcus and Jesper, Zylah knew she would need to get the pain under control until the vanquicite could be removed. Holt hadn’t trusted Maelissa enough to ask for her healer, and Zylah was glad of it. Something told her he wanted the decision to be hers here in the Aquaris Court.

The thought of thralls wielding weapons made from vanquicite had Zylah’s steps quickening. She followed the plants until the corridor danced with shadows, filling her pockets until the light thinned and the passageway turned a corner in the rock. Kopi darted off her shoulder into the darkness, and Zylah took it as a sign to follow him.

It opened up to a large cave, light pouring in from one end, but most of the chamber remained in darkness. With her keen eyesight, Zylah could make out the ash root spilling out of the rock, its unmistakable arrow-headed leaves pointing to the dirt. Ash root was excellent for wounds, and although it wouldn’t help with the pain from her vanquicite, she’d be remiss not to dry some for future use. It was also susceptible to damage, so she took her time searching for a large enough plant that would survive her harvest, shoving the pointed leaves into the front of her apron.

Holt had managed to slow the spread of whatever poison the vanquicite was leaking into her, but Zylah knew it wasn’t enough. The feeling still lingered, like liquid fire was coursing through every vein in her body, slowly burning her alive from the inside out.

A few small rocks fell at the entrance to the cave, but Kopi’s silence told her it was safe to continue, packing the leaves down tight. If Holt hadn’t come to Varda when he had, there were no doubts in Zylah’s mind that she wouldn’t still be walking. She had Rose’s vision to thank for that, wherever the Fae and Saphi were right now.

More rocks ricocheted and Zylah’s eyes flicked to the direction of the sound, only to find Kopi before an enormous bird, eyeing Kopi like he was his next meal.

The little owl sat tall, as though he wasn’t the size of one of the great bird’s claws.

“Don’t eat him!” Zylah whispered, evanescing to scoop Kopi off the dirt and coming eye to eye with the giant creature. Kopi remained docile in her palms, and he made no sound as the bird’s head twitched to the side, eyeing them both. Its black beak edged closer, tugging at the front of Zylah’s apron. Instinctively she took a step back, and the bird reared up, stretching to its full height, towering above her and Kopi. And it was only then that Zylah noticed the ash root it had taken from her apron and released a breath.

“Vegetarian. Good. That’s good.” She remained still, taking in the bird’s glassy black eyes and its slick black feathers, not a speck of colour among them. It had the shape of the eagles she’d seen in the Rinian mountain range, only much, much larger.

“Rava eats meat.”

Zylah whirled at the voice.

“Cirelle.” The Fae stood in the narrow entranceway Zylah had used, one hand resting lightly across the other in front of her, barely an indent from her touch in her lilac gown.

There were few Fae that made Zylah acutely aware of how very different they were to humans; the way Cirelle stood perfectly still, her face impassive, marked her as one of the rare exceptions.

“But she has always had a taste for the ash.” Cirelle walked right up to the bird, pressed a hand to its neck, and Zylah watched in awe as the creature nuzzled its head against Cirelle’s with care.

The Fae ran a hand along the bird’s beak. “Rava always knows when I’m in distress.”

“How?”

“Where I come from, we are paired with the Iyofari when we hit puberty, and they stay with us for life.”

Zylah gave a small smile but didn’t move, not with Kopi still in her hands. “A beautiful tradition.”

“Rava acts as an intermediary for me between this court and the one back in Bhuja. We don’t see each other often.”

“I’m sorry.” Zylah couldn’t imagine life without Kopi after such a short time together. But he wasn’t hers, Pallia had reminded her of that. Not in the way Rava was Cirelle’s.Very few things in this life belong to us.

Cirelle shook her head. “It matters not.”

“And I’m sorry about your friend,” Zylah offered, stroking a thumb against Kopi’s head.

The Fae smiled weakly. “The pain I caused my husband is greater than the pain of losing Nevan. He was a childhood friend. From Bhuja. But his presence here always upset Malok.”

Zylah held her tongue, too aware of how easy it would be to say the wrong thing with Rava still looming over them. Kopi hopped onto her shoulder, as if he too was silently waiting for Cirelle to continue.

Grief did strange things to you, Zylah had learnt. Sent the strangest thoughts into your head, the most peculiar memories when you least expected them. She knew the glazed look in Cirelle’s eyes all too well, recognised the way she moved automatically around Rava, and understood that it was no doubt why she’d sought out her companion in the first place.

Cirelle frowned. “My mother died when I was seven, and my father felt her loss so very deeply.” She ran a hand down the silken feathers at Rava’s neck, each one as large as her hand. “For months I would wake in the night to check on him because I was so afraid he’d take his life just to be with her.”

Zylah silently sucked in a breath at the admission.

“Then one day, he met a beautiful faerie at court, and they fell in love. Father would come to me every day, reassuring me he still loved my mother just as much as he always had.” Cirelle’s attention was fixed on Rava, but Zylah knew it wasn’t the bird before her she saw, but whatever memory she’d lost herself in. “I realised how hard he’d been fighting the whole time, struggling not to lose himself to his despair over my mother.”

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