Page 66 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

She took a bite, happy with her assessment, and looked up to find Malok watching her. Only when she’d swallowed her first mouthful of food did he start eating.Asshole.

The rest of the meal became an argument between Arlan and Malok over the distribution of his army, of Marcus’s presence in Virian, his mining, and his plans for the army he’d been creating, Holt interjecting now and then to try and offer some semblance of peace. Discomfort formed a knot in Zylah’s stomach the more she heard, lacing itself with the pain that had been gradually getting worse throughout the meal, her plate barely touched.

They were wasting time sitting here, pretending nothing was happening beyond the walls of the court. Time Astaria didn’t have.

Time she didn’t have.

And yet, she took in every word, every detail for anything that might help her get closer to Marcus.

Arlan made his stance on Malok’s withdrawal clear; he too wanted to act now against Marcus after the thrall attack, before Marcus had time to form a full army, to forge enough weapons to arm them all.

“My general has her orders,” Malok said with a hint of finality.

“I’d like to hear Niossa’s ideas,” Arlan countered, ignoring the warning in Malok’s tone and turning his attention to Nye.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Cirelle said as the staff cleared away their meal. “All this talk of war.”

Seats dragged back as Cirelle departed, and Zylah silently scolded herself for realising too late: the emotion in the room was too much for the Fae to take on top of her grief. For a moment she wondered if there was some reason she could offer to excuse herself too, to get a moment of air just to steady herself against the pain.

Nye spoke of the Fae uprising, of all Holt had tried to achieve back in Virian. “Marcus is posing as a human, making a Fae alliance with the humans more unlikely by the minute.”

“I think the priestesses have their own plans for the humans too,” Zylah said, hands folded in her lap.

“Explain,” Malok commanded.

Zylah offered up her observations of the priestesses since leaving Virian, of their strange recruitment drive.

The lord’s features darkened. “Power is like a drug, even to those who claim a life of virtue. Niossa.” His gaze pinned Nye. His general.

“I’ll look into it first thing.” She held her head high, nothing in her stance holding anything but pride.

She may have said she believed Malok managed court matters efficiently, but she wasn’t afraid of her uncle.

Zylah wondered if Nye was afraid of anything.

Arlan tapped a finger against his glass, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “This is why a united front is more important than ever, without any…” His attention flicked to Rin for a moment. “…unnecessary delays.”

Rin said nothing, but Zylah didn’t miss Kej’s scowl at Arlan’s dismissal. Her hand moved to the arm of her chair as a burst of pain rolled down her spine, and she willed herself not to dig her fingers into the wood.

Holt broke the silence, relief washing over Zylah that she wouldn’t have to speak. “It doesn’t matter what lies Marcus spreads about his circumstances. Soon enough he will have no choice but to reveal who he truly is. We need to ensure by then that the strength of our actions will have convinced the humans to work with us. That we are no threat to them.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Malok asked.

“Simple. Let them see the vampires, the thralls. Fight for them. Let them share stories of the atrocities Marcus has created. They wish for the same as us—to live freely, without fear.” His attention slid to Zylah’s fingers, now curled over the edge of the armrest closest to him, fingernails grazing the wood.

What Holt suggested was no easy feat. Humans were the very reason the Fae lived the way they did.

The reason they hid themselves and banded together out of sight of the humans.

The reason Malok weaved a heavy deceit over his appearance, hiding the scar the humans had given him.

Malok’s eyes narrowed. “Marcus will no doubt call you back to him soon.”

“Perhaps.” Holt was already on his feet, dismissing Malok entirely. “We should take a break, come back to this after we’ve all had some air. Zylah?”

Zylah looked up at him in surprise as he held out a hand for her, and she bit her tongue as realisation sliced through her. He knew.

She didn’t take his hand. The rest of the guests were already moving, their attention no longer on her.

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