Page 96 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

A chill danced down Zylah’s spine. “Thisisabout Ranon, isn’t it?” More of the puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place.

Holt dipped his chin in acknowledgement, pulling open the door they’d first used to enter the court on the day of Jora’s funeral.

Kopi darted out ahead of them into the fresh air, a light flurry of snow falling so lightly it seemed to hang suspended in the air.

“You said it before. Marcus has always craved power. If he’s obsessed with finding out Ranon’s secrets… his army will become more than just vampires and thralls.” Zylah cast her attention out into the grey, searching for any movement, straining to hear anything that might be out of place in the forest below.

“He always gets what he wants. Always,” Holt murmured to himself, stepping out into the snow.

Zylah followed him in silence, choosing her words carefully. He couldn’t hear of any harm coming to Marcus, and she knew in the past that he’d used that as justification not to discuss Marcus at all.

Not to excuse, exactly, but to shield his friends from the reality of his situation. “Marcus can’t keep this up forever, Holt. This is your life he’s playing with. We’ll figure this out.”

He was quiet as they made their way down the winding path, for so long she thought perhaps he wouldn’t answer. Or couldn’t. But as they neared the bottom of the slope, he released a breath. “It’s been almost a century of this. I’ve tried every loophole I can think of. Taken out every other player in his game. But now it’s down to him.”

He scanned the treeline as they neared the shadows of the forest, his attention fixed ahead, his voice strained, as if he felt the wariness of playing by Marcus’s rules in the depths of his soul.

Zylah followed him into the thick forest, her heart twisting for him. “We’ll find a way. Even if it takes us another hundred years.”

“To living free,” he said quietly.

Zylah stilled at the sound of her own words echoed back to her. Words she hadn’t spoken out loud because she’d been in too much pain to speak. Words she’d wanted to say to him when he held onto her, pouring himself into her so entirely that she wasn’t sure if he would slip away from this life before she did. Before the vanquicite took her.

“Holt,” she whispered.

He turned to face her, the air humming between them.

She took a step closer, her breath clouding in the air as she tilted her head back to look up at him, just as Kopi called out a warning. A thrall cried out, and a scent carried on the breeze, one that Zylah recognised.

The colour drained from her face, her stomach twisting.

“Mint and lemongrass,” she whispered, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Well don’t look so surprised,” a familiar voice said from somewhere nearby, both Holt and Zylah spinning around to find the source. “You didn’t think a vampire could get rid of me so easily, did you?”

Zylah took a staggering step back, a hand pressed to her chest as what could only have been a ghost dropped down from the canopy above them. Her back collided with Holt’s chest as she stared, mouth open, shock stealing her voice.

His hair was cut short, all trace of his once dazzling blue eyes now wholly black. One hand rested lazily in a pocket as he strode towards them, his attention fixed on Zylah and his lips twisting up into a sneer, revealing the tips of sharp, pointed fangs. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Jesper hadn’t killed him, and it hadn’t been the sprites that had taken his body. Jesper, the man who had turned her whole life upside down. Jesper, the prince she thought she’d killed and who instead had tilted the axis of her world when he’d revealed himself to be very much alive.

A vampire, but alive.

He’d turned Raif into one of them.

Holt rested a hand on her shoulder, a quiet reassurance that he was there as she fought to keep herself upright, to keep her breathing steady.

Raif clicked his tongue as he pointedly wrinkled his nose. “I can’t sayI’msurprised.”

“Surprised?” Zylah repeated, the only word she could coax from her lips. Surprise didn’t even come close to what she was feeling, but she understood that the sight of her, her body now undoubtedly Fae, must have come as a shock to him, the sight of her standing so close to Holt.

Raif waved a hand at the two of them, a wisp of ash coiling around his wrist. “I can smell your scent all over him.”

Zylah’s cheeks burned. “We thought you were dead,” she blurted, realising how stupid the words sounded the moment they left her lips. Like there was any excuse for what he was seeing.

She had no regrets when it came to the last twenty-four hours with Holt, to the confession she’d offered him. She’d meant every word of it. But this was not something she’d ever thought Raif would have to bear witness to. The sight of him, standing before them, was not something she had considered possible.

“I mourned you.” Her hand still pressed against her chest firmly, as if she could prevent herself from feeling everything she’d fought with since she’d watched him die. Or believed she had, anyway.

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