Page 81 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

They followed the path out of town in companionable silence, and Zylah realised she’d been wrong earlier. Therewasan air of magic about him, but it wasn’t Fae.

It wasn’t human, either. Something else, but she had no idea what.

He led her off the main path and into the forest, a pair of sprites darting out ahead of them as if they were leading the way.

“He’s like a beacon for them. For you too, it would seem.” Laydan glanced at her with a smile, head tilting ever so slightly. “Or maybe it’s the other way around; you’re the beacon.”

“They’re drawn to him,” Zylah said, watching the furry heads bob and tiny wings flutter in the last of the light, Kopi flying off to join them.

Laydan merely hummed his agreement. “So you can see through deceits. A useful skill to possess.”

“And you? Part-time biscuit vendor, full-time tracker?” She didn’t want to think about what was ahead. Why someone like Daizin, with his affinity for shadows, or Laydan, a tracker if that was indeed what he was, needed her to get to Malok’s key.

But any reply he might have offered was cut off by Daizin’s scowl as he stepped out from behind a tree.

“There’s the light of my life,” Laydan whispered energetically, throwing his arms around Daizin’s neck.

To Zylah’s surprise, Daizin softened, rested his forehead against Laydan’s and murmured something too quiet for Zylah to hear.

“Hmm. So broody,” Laydan said, turning to wink at Zylah. “Maybe they think it’s charming?”

Zylah bit back her smile. She had no way of knowing if Laydan was always this way, bright and playful, or whether it was just to ease themselves into finding the key. Malok had said his spies were locating it, but it was clear now there were no guards, just Daizin and Laydan.

Kopi hooted softly as Holt approached from the gods knew where, his eyes roving slowly over her, and Zylah felt her skin burn beneath the thick sweater from his heated gaze. She’d had all afternoon to think about their almost kiss, about the way he’d held her, the way she’d leaned into his touch for more.

And when the corner of his mouth twisted into a half smile, she knew he scented the change in her. Could likely see it written all over her face.

She turned away, taking a swig of her baylock tea in an effort to hide the tremor that coursed through every tightly wound muscle.

“It’s going to be a long night,” Daizin said, breaking away from Laydan.

Wasn’t it just.

“Let’s get moving,” the Fae added.

“What have you got in there?” Laydan asked. “Is it strong enough to turn the pain in my feet into blissful numbness?”

Zylah laughed quietly, her breath clouding in front of her in the darkness. They’d been walking for hours, and Zylah wished she’d brought three canisters with her.

Twice she’d felt the press of Holt’s hand at her lower back, and each time she’d let him try to heal her because she knew she wouldn’t have made it through the night without it.

“It won’t numb them, but it will help the pain. Here.” Zylah handed Laydan the canister, watching the twist of his features as he took a hearty swig.

“Goddess, what are you trying to do to me.” He took another swig. And another. “Actually, it’s not bad once you get used to it, and very effective.” He bounced his weight from one foot to the other and beamed. “Not bad. Thank you.”

The forest had thinned, and mercifully, there had been no fresh snow. Rows of barrows bordered the edge of the trees, sprites’ wings shimmering around them in the moonlight. They’d always been drawn to the ones back in her village, too. Drawn to the spirits, her father had told her.

They’d paused to listen for any sign of movement amongst the barrows, Daizin’s shadows swallowing him and Laydan almost entirely. Zylah and Holt had a little protection from their spell, but their tracks, that was where Laydan came in.

She’d been right, about him having magic.

A witch, on his mother’s side, he’d said simply when she’d questioned him earlier in the night, long before the day had turned into another.

Holt had given her a cautionary glance, as if he were urging her not to mention the vanquicite lodged in her back. Not here, not yet, that look had seemed to say. And Zylah shared the sentiment.

Laydan seemed trustworthy enough, but Daizin? Who knew who he might sell the information to, given the chance?

They slipped one by one through the barrows, darting for the safety of the forest on the other side of the field, and not for the first time since finding Daizin back in the tavern, Zylah wondered if they were walking right into a trap.

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