Page 98 of A Legacy of Poison and Lies

Kopi flew to her shoulder as Zylah staggered back a step. The sprites swarmed the thralls, teeth and claws slashing at the creatures. She didn’t wait to watch what they would do next. She raced through the trees, darting between boughs to find Holt.

Her heart was in her throat by the time she came upon them, Raif moving unnaturally fast to dart away from Holt’s sword. Everywhere Raif went, vines erupted from the snow and reached for him, but he cut them down with a sword of his own. Holt was attacking, but he was holding back, as if maybe he too wondered if part of who Raif had been remained somewhere within him.

It only seemed to encourage Raif. He noticed her approach, his face twisting into a grin. “Caleb didn’t return from the tomb, but he was under strict instructions to announce I was coming for you. I can see Holt decided to keep that from you, too. I wonder, what other secrets does he keep from his mate?” He swung at Holt, the blade nicking skin enough to draw blood, but Holt pivoted away before it could sink deep.

Caleb, the vampire at the tomb, Zylah presumed. She didn’t let any emotion show on her face at Raif’s words. He was trying to get a rise out of them both, and she wouldn’t, couldn’t give in to him. All she had to do was reach Holt, and they could leave together. Could say everything that needed to be said once they were gone from here, safe.

She took a step closer, her sword gripped firmly in both hands.

Zylah.Holt’s voice was a warning in her thoughts. But she didn’t let herself look at him, not when she needed to keep Raif’s attention on her, keep him distracted from Holt.

Raif barked a laugh as vines wrapped at his ankles and dragged him face-first into the snow. “I don’t know how you fought the compulsion,” he said, glaring at Holt. “But you won’t be able to fight it forever. Not if your head is full of so many commands you don’t know which to ignore first.” He swiped his sword at the vines, darting towards Zylah where she held her weapon steady. If Holt had been compelled by Jesper…

She shoved the thought down, focused on the weight of her sword in her hands, the press of snow beneath her feet. “Why don’t you just tell us what you want, Raif?” she asked as Holt appeared at her side.

Raif stopped a few feet away, one hand in his pocket, black eyes raking up her body and taking in her new Fae form as if he was noticing her for the first time. “You know, at first, I thought maybe you were like me. That you knew what he was to you, and you wanted to hurt him as much as I did. To punish him for working with my father, and with Arnir. But after a while, I just didn’t care. You were mine, that was all that mattered.”

Zylah thought she might be sick. What he’d done… whatshe’ddone.

You didn’t know, Zylah.Holt’s voice was gentle in her mind, reassuring.

“Marcus wants you.” Raif shrugged. “When this one didn’t return with you like he was supposed to, I was happy to oblige.”

Holt said nothing in protest, and no words, no sounds filled her head except for the ringing between her ears as her brain tried to keep up with everything Raif had said.

“You hated Marcus. Don’t tell me you feel indebted to him now that you’re… this,” Zylah waved a hand. His eyes, his teeth. His speed and strength. Everything about him had been altered now that he was a vampire.

“I’m more than I ever was, Zylah.”

And yet, something about his abilities had changed, too, or he would have turned Holt to ash the first moment they’d rolled over each other in the snow. Ash still snaked around his arms, something he’d never done when he was Fae.

“At what cost?” Zylah asked, motioning towards the ash as she sheathed her sword. They needed to leave, to get as far from him as they could. But despite everything, despite what he’d said and done, what he was, some small part of her didn’t want to leave without answers, without finding out if there was any part that remained of the Fae she’d once known.Thoughtshe’d known.

A gentle caress brushed against her mind. A feeling of understanding, like a quiet thank you, and Zylah knew it was Holt. Raif had been a brother to him, a part of his life for so long, and he would have wanted answers, too.

“Are you asking if I still have a soul?” Raif asked as more of Holt’s vines wrapped at his ankles. “If I can still feel? If I can still remember what that pretty mouth of yours felt like wrapped around my cock?”

Holt lunged for him again, and Raif broke free of the vines as if they were nothing. Their swords clashed; Holt’s rage so thick Zylah felt it shudder against her bones. Raif’s taunts were clouding his judgement, but Raif didn’t relent. Holt landed a blow to Raif’s sword arm, but Raif moved as if the wound was nothing, swiping his weapon across Holt’s ribs. Zylah held her breath as Holt withdrew a step, the blade slicing into him and blood leaking through his shirt.

The moment her eyes locked with Raif’s she knew he intended to sink his fangs into Holt’s flesh. She evanesced with so much force that when she reappeared in front of him, she knocked him back, scarlet staining his mouth.

He lashed out at her, a swirl of dark ash wrapping around her neck. “Raif,” Zylah pleaded, her hands grasping at her throat. Recognition seemed to flare in Raif’s unfamiliar eyes for a moment, as if he realised he was hurting her, and he released Zylah from his grasp. But whatever he might have said was lost to the aether as Holt’s wrist came down around hers, evanescing them away.

“Again,” Holt ground out as their feet hit snow, darkness pressing in around them. She’d never seen him so angry, so rattled and untethered by what Raif had admitted. Zylah didn’t hesitate, she did as they’d agreed, evanescing to another location, back up to the pass west of the Aquaris Court. There was no doubt in her mind it had been her evanescing that had led Raif to them, and they couldn’t risk leaving a clear trace again.

Holt didn’t release her as he evanesced them to the next location, his grip still tight at her wrist as they moved turn by turn, evanescing through the forest back towards Varda, turning back on themselves so many times Zylah’s head spun. They couldn’t travel anywhere directly; they’d be too easy to track.

They hadn’t stopped once, hadn’t uttered a word to each other, moving so quickly the world blurred into nothing but the inky darkness around them, until Zylah’s nausea was all-consuming and Holt finally began to slow just outside Varda.

“Your wounds haven’t healed,” Zylah said, reaching a hand up to his neck.

“They’re not deep. We need to find somewhere to stay for the night. What remains of it.” His hair pressed to his forehead, his skin clammy in the moonlight, and with a sinking feeling, Zylah realised it wasn’t her own nausea she’d been feeling, but his.

She didn’t try to argue with him. She took them to the empty house she’d found after leaving Kerthen, pausing at the stone wall at the edge of the garden, her chest heaving in time with Holt’s as they paused to listen for any signs of movement from inside. There were none.

They’d left Kopi behind.

He’d find them, but it didn’t stop her unease at leaving him mingling with everything else she was feeling. Holt followed her inside the house in silence, swaying a little as he stepped through the door.

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