Page 100 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

He accepted her answer, though he couldn’t hide his feelings from her. But Zylah knew he’d have done the same. She’d lost something to bring him back, and she would do it over and over again until she had nothing left to give.

Holt stood behind her, fingers curling under her chin to tilt her head back against him. His thumb stroked the column of her throat as he looked down at her, hope shining in his eyes. “Ready?”

Zylah nodded. Okwata had gone to the effort of adding a dropper to the vial, and she watched as Holt filled it carefully, hesitating only once before he administered it to each eye. Zylah resisted the urge to blink away the liquid, the dropper replaced by a fresh cloth in Holt’s hand as he carefully wiped away the excess. His healing magic poured and poured and poured into her, bolstering her own, attempting to mend the damage caused by the venom.

They remained that way until Zylah felt lightheaded from the angle, the tent a bleary, shadowy mess as Holt gently brought her upright. She heard the scrape of the stool as he took a seat in front of her again, and swiped the cloth lightly over her cheeks, his hands rising to her temples to keep healing her.

Eventually, the bleariness dissipated; most of the shadows receded. Zylah brought her hands over Holt’s to ease them away, to let him grasp what she already knew. The venom was gone. The stinging sensation along with it. Her magic was now fully hers, no part of it tied up in suspending the venom. But she saw the flicker of disappointment in Holt’s eyes as understanding settled over him, the hazy grain over everything, the shadow spots where there should have been none.

The damage was irreversible.

Chapter Fifty

DaizinandKejhadbeen assigned to accompany them to Virian, and neither Holt nor Zylah had objected.

Holt’s guilt over the state of her eyes still clung to him, but she knew he just needed time to process it. If she depleted her magic and lost her other sight, she’d still possess a narrow field of view, and even with the shadows and the grainy film over everything, that was more than enough for Zylah.

The four of them stood on a rooftop at the edge of the palace district, Zylah’s threads spreading wide and her concern growing with each new vampire and thrall they counted. The city had fallen into further disarray since the day they’d all attempted to save the prisoners, most of the buildings’ windows shattered, doors hanging open on their hinges. Rats scurried over a decaying corpse in the street below, Daizin’s shadows darting out to scare them away.

“Can you communicate with Nye from this distance?” Holt asked the Fae quietly as they took it all in.

Daizin dipped his chin. “The Seraphim hasn’t been much help with Ranon but…” His eyes slid to Kej’s face for a moment and then back to Holt’s. “He said Imala possessed shadow abilities, too. She could shift into any shadow form she chose.”

“When did he tell you that?” Kej asked, his attention still fixed on the street, his brow furrowed.

“When you were busy getting your arm tended to.”

By the healer. Both Kej and Daizin fell silent at that, and Zylah wasn’t about to try and make light of the situation when they’d clearly meant something more to each other than a casual fling.

She sifted through everything she knew about Imala from her perspective of living as a human and a Fae. The stories she’d been taught as a child. She considered the texts Nye had shown her, most of the pages focusing on Ranon and Sira, yet the key to release Ranon, the one Malok had believed could defend his court, had been hidden within a statue of Imala. Zylah had never really considered why before, but then she remembered what Arioch had told her back in the maze.

I think there’s much more to the story of the original nine than any of us have been taught,Holt said in her thoughts in response to her quiet consideration. Zylah wholeheartedly agreed. There was so much they didn’t know.

Arioch suggested Ranon and Imala were lovers. What if the history books are wrong? All the stories the Fae have had passed down throughout the years. What if it was all nothing more than whatever narrative Ranon wanted them to believe?

Holt’s attention danced over her face, and she knew he was assessing her damaged eyes again.Ranon is capable of anything.

There was no fear accompanying the statement. Only his anger, his white-hot wrath, snuffed out as quickly as she’d felt it. Going anywhere near Ranon was a risk for all of them, but if the army couldn’t fight their way through the vampires and thralls, if the Fae soldiers couldn’t get close to the palace because of the vanquicite, they’d never succeed in bringing him down.

A thrall shuffled out of a deserted building below them, Zylah’s threads reaching for it at the same time as Daizin’s shadows. The shadows reached it first, swarming the creature in darkness before an unmistakable crack rang out in the street below and the thrall fell into the dirt, unmoving.

Kej raised an eyebrow at Daizin before turning his attention to Holt and Zylah. “Save the intrepid blacksmiths, destroy the deadly vanquicite, and take out a few shit-eating bloodsuckers in the process. Did I miss anything?”

“You realise it’s our blood they covet above all else, right?” Daizin muttered.

“And?”

“So we’re the shit in your analogy.”

Kej chuckled, throwing an arm over Zylah’s shoulder. “Speak for yourself. Me and Zy are rare diamonds.”

“And Holt?” Zylah asked him, holding back her smile.

“Holt’s about three seconds away from kicking my ass.”

“That makes two of us,” Daizin said under his breath. “I’ll go with Holt.”

Zylah hated the thought of him getting close to Ranon, but they needed to split up to clear the palace gardens. He brushed a hand over her cheek, everything he didn’t need to say out loud pouring down their bond before he evanesced away with Daizin, leaving Zylah alone with Kej.

---