Page 72 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

“Cirelle takes a tonic to help with the side effects of her gift… but our healer has been delayed by the storm,” the High Lord said, his pause betraying the emotionless expression he held.

Zylah hadn’t seen the High Lady since the dinner with Arlan and Daven. Since Cirelle had excused herself. She’d assumed it was from the heat of the moment, but Cirelle was a High Lady, and far stronger than Zylah had perhaps given her credit for. She felt Rin and Kej’s gazes burning into her, breaths held as they waited for her response. Zylah told herself to ignore them, to not let her emotions get in the way.

If Marcus wasn’t stopped, his army would only continue to grow, and whatever chance they might stand at stopping him dwindled further with each passing day. They’d wasted enough time already. “I’ve no knowing whether you’ll deliver on your last promise,” she said, at last turning her attention to Malok.

“Promises can be broken. Bargains cannot.”

Zylah was well versed in bargains from the two she’d made. Her first, with Holt, when he was saving her life. Again. The second… when she’d been desperate. Foolish. Holt shifted in his spot by the door, and she met his gaze, caught the way his brow furrowed together for a moment.A bargain with a faerie is never pleasant, Raif had said to her, almost a lifetime ago back in Virian. And for months during her time in Kerthen, he’d been right.

She’d promised Holt she would live in return for him helping find her family. And living hadn’t just been unpleasant… it had been torture. And her other bargain… nothing about it had been pleasant.

“The key has been located. See that both the key and the ingredients for my wife’s tonic are delivered to me directly, and I’ll hand over my army,” Malok said, a hint of desperation tinging his voice.

She took in the High Lord, the way he sat, the way his deceits flickered over his scars. The perfectly pressed charcoal tunic he wore, the sapphire ring that gleamed on the hand he’d rested on an arm of his chair. He’d had no intention of helping them before, he’d just as good as admitted it. And he’d been careful with his words too. Typical faerie behaviour. But his hopelessness leaked through—his concern for his wife.

And though Zylah hated herself for it, she had to use it. “To Holt. You’ll hand full control of your army to Holt?”

Malok swiped a hand across his knee, as if he were carelessly dusting away a crumb. “Niossa will remain in her position as general.”

A nod from Holt was the only agreement Zylah needed.

She tried not to think of the fate of the humans hidden within the court should Malok discover them, instead reminding herself of the thousands they could save if they had an army on their side. She waited for Malok to speak, Rin and Kej practically buzzing with anticipation beside her, as if their thoughts were divided between their mother and the humans.

Malok didn’t hide his glare. “I will hand over my army to Holt in exchange for the key and the ingredients.”

But still, Zylah didn’t move.

“Do you trust your spies?” Holt asked Malok.

The High Lord merely nodded.

“Fae raised here?”

“Two others.”

“We don’t have time for games, Malok.”

“I trust them.”

Holt levelled him with a heavy stare. “I don’t need to remind you what the consequences will be if Marcus continues down this path.”

Malok spared a glance at his children, as if they were all the reminder he needed.

“Then we have a bargain,” Zylah said, offering her hand. She didn’t move. Wanted the High Lord to come to her. Wanted to know he truly would do anything for his wife, that he deserved the protection that they were about to offer him. And for a heartbeat, she thought the bastard might refuse.

He was on his feet with the grace of a wildcat, and for the first time Zylah considered whether it wasn’t just the ability to shift the twins had inherited from him, but his form too. He clasped her forearm, and Zylah willed herself not to let anything show on her face as the magic rattled through her, scraping against the vanquicite lodged in her spine.

“It’s the dead of winter. No one is to follow them, Niossa. See to it that my children do not attempt to leave.”

“My Lord.”

Malok left without another word, without even a glance in his children’s direction. But Zylah didn’t miss the way they’d sagged with relief once the bargain had been made.

“This room is warded now,” she said, glancing at the door. Zylah had felt something in the air, but when Malok had moved through it, she’d been certain.

“After the attempted poisoning, I managed to convince him,” Nye admitted.

Rin swirled whatever liquid was concealed in her cup. “Everything’s gone to shit since Jora’s death, and he’s trapping us in here like wild beasts.”

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