Page 55 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

She didn’t need to look up to feel his anger, either, despite how hard he was trying to hide it.

Zylah folded her arms, willing herself not to shake with the adrenaline. She should have just evanesced away the moment she’d seen them. But that wasn’t who she was anymore. Whatever she deserved, she didn’t want to be the person she was. Someone who ran from their problems. She wanted to be someone who faced them, no matter how much it frightened her.

“I came to your room right after training this morning, but you’d already left. I thought you might want to rest after so long on the road,” Holt said when she didn’t reply.

“Training?” she asked, looking up at him, at the apology in his eyes, even though she didn’t need it.

He nodded.

“Ah, so you do have to train like the rest of us?” She willed some lightness into her voice, to offer him some reassurance that she was fine, that she didn’t need an apology from him, and raised an eyebrow at him playfully.

He relaxed a fraction, but she knew he was still on alert, could almost feel the storm of emotions warring inside him, an echo of everything she felt.

Zylah observed their surroundings as she steadied her breaths, wishing she had another vial of tonic in her pocket. A large table cut from the white rock sat in the centre of the room, with carved seats of white wood dotted around it. A map of Astaria had once been painted onto the table’s surface, its colours long since faded, details chipped away.

“They’re not fond of a half Fae in their court,” she murmured at last, fingers tracing across the map. A collection of black pebbles sat over Virian, and around it, a few brown pebbles were dotted here and there; a much larger number of white ones scattered across the continent.

“These represent humans,” Zylah said quietly, fingertips brushing against the nearest white pebbles. “And these are Fae,” she added, touching the brown pebbles that rested over their location at the Aquaris Court.

She felt Holt step into place beside her. “The black is—”

“His army.” Zylah swallowed. If the ratios were accurate, Marcus was building himself a sizeable force. “I think my presence here might hinder your request for aid. But perhaps we shouldn’t care for his help, after all.”

“I can assure you, they were acting of their own accord.” Malok had evanesced into the room, standing at the head of the table.

Zylah said nothing, just held his stare, waiting for him to speak. She knew how ruffled she likely looked; how her hair would have been falling out of her braid, blood staining her clothes, her cheek. But she wanted him to see it. To know that it had happened in his court, because ofhispeople. High Lord or not, she was not one of them, and she didn’t wish to be.

“Mining has halted since the weather front moved in,” Malok said, waving a hand at the map markers. A large black rock sat on the outskirts of Virian, and Zylah knew without explanation that it was the vanquicite mine. “They will have to down tools or risk being snowed in. We’re approaching a very harsh winter, I’ve been informed.”

Zylah fixed her attention on the magic that seemed to ripple over Malok’s face like water on the surface of a pond. “Tell me, why does a High Lord hide behind a deceit in his own court?”

A look of surprise lit up his eyes for a moment before he shut it down. “No one has seen my true face in centuries.”

Zylah took a step closer but left enough of a respectful distance between them that she wouldn’t have to tilt her head back to look up at him. This close, she could see through pieces of the magic in parts; could see the thick burn scars marring most of his face. Despite the pity she felt for the pain he’d suffered, she let no emotion show on her face as she asked, “Humans did this to you?”

Malok’s brown eyes narrowed a fraction, lips pressed tightly together, but he merely nodded.

“And this is where you wait for me to what? Defend humans? Chastise the Fae?” Zylah asked, stepping away from him. Holt had said nothing about the altercation back out in the court, and though his anger still dripped from him he remained silent. Perhaps he didn’t want to risk any favour with Malok. Zylah silently scolded herself for not thinking of that sooner.

The High Lord unstrapped his weapon, laying it on a stone mantle before fixing his attention on Holt. “This is where he convinces me why I need to leave my court vulnerable, part with what remains of my army, and send my children off to certain death.”

“Because the alternative is that they come for all of you, like they did last night. And theywillkeep coming, Malok,” Holt said with lethal calm.

Malok moved to the window, looking out at the ocean, arms clasped behind him. “You’re asking us to follow you.”

“Don’t tell me this is about pride,” Zylah cut in. Cirelle didn’t seem like the type to suffer fools, but at that moment, Zylah couldn’t see Malok as anything but.

“Marcus always had a fondness for puppets.” A quiet challenge flashed in Malok’s gaze as he watched Holt.

But Holt gave nothing away as he said, “And yet Jora didn’t share your reservations.”

It was the second time since their arrival that someone had made a comment about the hold Marcus had over Holt.

Did they know what Marcus had done? Whatever bargain might have been struck between them?

Malok poured them a drink from a glazed blue pitcher, handing them each a glass of amber liquid. Holt placed his on the map table.

Zylah eyed hers silently, a familiar scent drifting from the glass she couldn’t quite recall or put a name to.

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