Page 89 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

Another tug against Zylah’s spine, her back arching against the jolt of pain, Holt’s arms tightening again as if to remind her he was there.

The vanquicite was pulling her apart, piece by piece, and for a moment it was as if she was above her body, watching all the threads of vanquicite the woman was trying to shear away from her, and another that anchored her; the one between her and Holt.

“Just a little while longer, Zylah,” Holt said as he brushed the hair from her eyes, his voice strained. She wished she could look at him, wished she could fight away the darkness that had taken hold of her, but her head was spinning, her body shaking, her heart like a trapped bird against her chest as she realised she could no longer feel her legs.

Zylah couldn’t speak. A dull roar had started to accompany the pain, and she could do nothing to fight it.

“I’ve got you,” Holt murmured, his thumb wiping gently at the tears that rolled down her face, his forehead pressed against hers.

Zylah couldn’t open her eyes, could do nothing but hold on to that feeling between them, the power that spilled from him, seeking out all the places the vanquicite had occupied, replacing darkness with light.

Holt’s breaths were shallow, each one more laboured than the last, and she knew he was reaching the end of what he had to give, the roaring in her ears growing louder.

Stop.The thought was sluggish.Please,she wanted to beg him.

His mouth pressed against hers, and she felt him tremble above her. It was a soft kiss. Tender. Slow. One that felt too much like a goodbye, his breath catching as if he knew it too.

Hot tears streaked down her cheeks, and he eased back to wipe them away.Stop. Holt. Please. Let me go.

But he didn’t stop, because she no longer had the strength to say the words out loud.

Panicked voices moved around them, but all Zylah wanted to see was him. She willed her eyes to open as everything seemed to light up within her, her body rigid with the agony of the poison being pulled from her bones, the roar of it being torn from her blood.

She held his gaze as the light intensified, grateful that the last thing she would ever see would be him before the darkness pulled her under.

Only it wasn’t darkness that finally tore her away from him, but a flame so blinding it felt as if it ripped from her chest and set light to everything she was from the inside out. A flame so bright it incinerated every thread that spilt from her.

Everyone except his, and her fear grew tenfold as she realised she was going to pull him under with her.

But the thought was cut off before she could act on it, because the light flared, and the vanquicite finally won.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Feathersstrokedherface.Something hooed, and the sound was so loud it had Zylah’s head pulsing. Kopi buried deeper into the crook of her neck, his feathers tickling her ear, and she groaned in protest.

“Zylah?”

Her eyes flicked open at the sound of Holt’s voice, and she drew in a shaky breath. It felt like she was seeing him for the first time. The vibrancy of his emerald eyes, the angular lines of his jaw, the richness of his bronzed skin.

There was no wound on his neck, and he was wearing different clothes. Dark shadows swept beneath his eyes, stubble peppered his jaw, and his hair was mussed and ruffled like he’d been running his hands through it over and over.

He eased himself out of the chair he’d been sitting in,sleepingin, Zylah realised, and sat on the edge of her bed. He reached for Kopi, depositing the tiny owl on the bedside table, but his eyes never broke away from hers.

They hadn’t properly spoken since before the tomb, since he’d asked her what she wanted, and it seemed now like so many words hung unspoken between them that Zylah didn’t know where to start. Outside, the ocean crashed against the rocks below the court, so deafening Zylah wondered if it was the tail end of another storm. Inside, the sound of Holt’s heart beating fast beneath his chest felt like a beating drum, and she reached up and pressed a hand to it, if only to reassure him that she was really there.

Maybe she still needed to convince herself, too.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he said softly, placing a hand over hers, his shoulders moving as if he were taking his first true breath since they’d returned from the tomb.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” she said, but her voice sounded strange to her ears.

“I haven’t.” His eyes moved over her, as if he were checking her for injuries. She ached as if she’d been in bed for too long, but otherwise, she felt good. Better than good. And she knew that in part, it was because of him. Knew that whatever the healer had been able to do, had only been made possible because he’d refused to let her go.

“Is it all gone?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she was ready for the answer, didn’t think she could accept it now if it was still going to end her life. She brushed a hand to her shoulder as if she might feel some trace of the vanquicite lingering in her spine, her fingers catching on thin straps of silk. Someone had put her in a nightgown but given that the healer had cut open her clothes, Zylah couldn’t say she was surprised.

She studied Holt’s face as his heartbeat began to steady. As if he had finally accepted that she was fine. Watched the way his throat worked as he said, “All of it.”

Zylah dipped her chin in acknowledgement, pressed her eyes shut.

---