Page 65 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

“Who’s flavour of the night then, Kej?” Zylah asked, hoping to ease the discomfort that had seemed to settle across his sister’s shoulders.

He knocked back the contents of his glass before asking, “Are you offering?” He might have winked, but his eye was still too swollen from earlier to close fully.

Rin elbowed him. Kej was dressed in fine attire too, a notched, silver-grey shirt tucked into charcoal trousers, silver detailing running down the side panels. Nye wore a slightly smarter version of the uniform she wore throughout the day; fitted trousers and a long-sleeved, form-fitting shirt, her weapons still firmly in place.

It had only made Zylah question the nature of their evening even further when Nye had arrived at her room to collect her earlier, her teacup long emptied, Kopi huddled up against it for warmth.

“Looks like your flavour just arrived,” Kej murmured, another half-empty glass already in his hand.

Zylah didn’t take the bait. She let Rin tug her towards the table, taking a seat beside her. Kej slipped into the seat beside his sister, Nye took a seat one along from Malok, leaving another empty space between her and Zylah, and one between Kej and Daven.

Zylah looked up just as Daven’s attention shifted to her, his features pinching for a moment.

“Are your companions not joining us?” she asked politely, the sweet smile painted on her face she might have once used for customers in her father’s apothecary.

Daven schooled his face to neutrality, but Zylah didn’t miss the way he straightened a piece of cutlery in an attempt to hide his discomfort. “They left.”

“A wise decision.” She didn’t move her attention away from him, let him feel the weight of her stare until he found the balls to look her in the eye. A chair scraped gently beside her.

“My suggestion to leave extended to you as well, Daven,” Holt said quietly as he seated himself beside Zylah. She didn’t let her surprise show at his words, didn’t take her eyes off of Daven, certain that Holt’s face echoed the threat in his words.

Cirelle was next to join them, breaking the tension that had fallen over the table as every male’s chair scraped back and they stood, waiting for the High Lady to take her seat. Daven’s knee seemed to give him trouble as he moved, the knee Zylah had put a dagger through a few days before, and she bit down on her smile as she caught the movement.

“What happened to your leg?” Rin asked him, as if she didn’t already know in precise detail exactly what had transpired between them.

“Lots of sharp things to bump into in this court. Spears. Swords. Daggers,” Zylah said coolly, toying with her knife on the table.

Daven cleared his throat. “I apologise for our misunderstanding.”

Zylah cocked her head to the side, making sure not to let any trace of emotion flicker across her face as she let silence settle for a little longer than was comfortable. “It didn’t feel like a misunderstanding when your blade sliced my cheek.”

Holt stilled beside her, a small pulse of his power rippling at the bare skin of her arms before he reeled it back in again.

“Arlan, good of you to join us,” Daven said, just as a finely dressed male took a seat beside him, his amber eyes assessing the table.

“Rin,” he said quietly, as if there were no one there but the two of them. Rin shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her chin dipping in acknowledgement, and suddenly the pieces clicked into place for Zylah.Father’s been trying to pair me off for ages with a male from another court,she’d said at Jora’s funeral. And just that morning she’d mentioned being sold off like cattle. To the male sat opposite, Zylah realised.

Malok made the introductions. “Zylah, may I introduce you to Arlan, next in line to the Lychnus Court? I believe you’ve already met Daven, Arlan’s personal guard.”

A faint smile twisted Arlan’s mouth. Polite. Polished. Practised. As if there was absolutely nothing underneath it, or he was so well trained in hiding everything else. A bit of both, Zylah presumed. Here was the malelacking in charisma, as Rin had put it. The one she’d been hiding from at Jora’s funeral. From the little Zylah knew of her, she didn’t seem the type to baulk from anyone.

Malok launched into a lengthy speech about trade between their two courts, the strength of a union between Arlan and Rin, the merits of its success, and Rin only sank further into her seat beside Zylah.

Kej knocked back another glass, and Zylah realised he’d chosen his seat purposefully, to act as a buffer between his sister and Arlan. Had Rin requested it, or was Kej merely protective of his twin?

Arlan pressed his fingers together, elbows on the armrests of his chair, listening in silence. When Malok paused to let the staff fill his plate with food, Arlan took his opportunity to speak. “You’re wasting time on court politics when a war is being waged out there. Don’t you think we should be out there doing something about it?”

Daven shifted beside him. “You are young, Arlan, I think Lord Malok—”

“Daven. You insulted me already by attacking someone in this court. Once was enough, thank you. Your presence is no longer required for the rest of the evening, and I believe you’ve already been asked to leave. I’ll expect you ready to depart first thing.” Arlan didn’t even look at his guard as he spoke, only turned to the male who had filled his plate and offered a quiet thank you.

Daven blanched. Placed his glass soundlessly on the table and inclined his head. “As you wish, my Lord.” With a scrape of his chair and a not-so-graceful rise to his feet, Daven excused himself from the table. His wounded knee undermined any dignity he might have held onto for his exit, and Zylah bit back her smile of satisfaction.

Arlan smoothly offered his apologies to the table, continuing the conversation without hesitation. From the corner of her eye, Zylah noticed Rin’s brow pinched together in a slight frown, and at that moment, she knew the Fae’s words about him lacking charisma had been an excuse.

As a member of staff filled her plate with food, she couldn’t help but inhale deeply, sifting through the scents for any hint of poison.

Nothing.

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