Page 44 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

Zack chuckled. “We have no Fae in this part of the tunnels because of the proximity to the vanquicite, but things have been going well, given the circumstances.”

A small amount of time in the vicinity of the material would strip away deceits and nullify abilities, but the kind of exposure from day-to-day living so close to it could be devastating. They were wise to keep their distance.

“There were some wounded Fae… did they make it out?”

“They did, thanks to you.”

But there were more, Zylah was certain of it. “Where are Ranon and Aurelia keeping the rest of their prisoners?” The palace dungeons had been empty, and Holt… there must have been dozens of captive Fae to begin with, before he’d been forced to unleash his power on them all.

Her brother moved from the bed, a hand at her elbow to guide her.

“It’s alright,” she told him, “I can manage.”

He didn’t argue, but he still pulled a chair out for her anyway, an uneasy sigh escaping him. “They keep them in the main courtyard. But few remain, from what Holt’s told me.”

She pictured the courtyard as it had been during the festival, its gleaming white pillars, Arnir sat on his vanquicite throne, Marcus beside him. There must have been some vanquicite in the courtyard now to keep the prisoners docile, the question was how much. Prolonged exposure would kill them, and Ranon wouldn’t want them to be too weak before he’d have had Holt take their lives.

And that only few remained… she didn’t want to dwell on whatfewmeant. All she knew for certain was that their deaths would be a weight Holt carried for the rest of his life. And as for the remaining prisoners, their friends couldn’t come soon enough.

“Three days,” Zylah said at last, warming her hands on the mug where it sat on the table. “What can I do?”

“Two days, now. And you can rest.” Zack rested a hand over one of hers. “You risked your life coming here for him. Alone.”

Zylah swallowed. It had been a while since she’d felt his particular brand of brotherly love, though he’d always been protective of her. They’d never really talked about their romantic relationships, but this wasn’t just some crush she might have confessed to him on the walk home from school when they were teenagers. And though she didn’t know how much he understood of Fae traditions, whether he would recognise the weight of what she and Holt were to each other, she knew he held the concept of marriage in high regard.

“And now he doesn’t remember you,” Zack said, repeating her words back to her from the day before. “You’re in love with him?”

It was an easy enough assessment. “What do you know of Fae customs?” she asked quietly.

Her brother was quiet for a moment, but she could feel his attention on her, felt the shift in him as he said, “Shit, Zylah, don’t tell me he’s your mate?”

All she could do was nod, her throat tight. It hadn’t taken Holt long to fall asleep the night before. She’d got as far in their story as their arrival in Virian together, Kopi in tow, before the sound of his steady breaths had filled the small space.

“What did they do to him?” Zack asked cautiously.

Zylah tried to explain it all to her brother, as much as she understood of it, anyway. All the hope she’d let herself amass fizzled away the more she told him, her head sinking into her hands. “Whatever they did to him, combined with having been in the vanquicite cell for so long and… what they made him do.” Her voice wavered and she took a moment to compose herself. “I don’t know if by telling him anything at all, I’m already pulling at the thread that completely unravels him.”

Zack’s hand fell over hers again. “What if it was the opposite?”

Zylah bit down on her lip, fighting back tears. “Because I tried…” She shook her head. “I tried to reach him, the way only I could and I…” She swallowed. “I hurt him.” Witnessing how much pain Holt had been in when Thallan had been in his mind… she couldn’t bear the thought of having harmed him in the same way, that he saw it as a violation.

Her brother blew out a quiet breath, his hand leaving hers and a shadow moving that told her he was dragging a hand over his face. “He’s well respected here; he’s barely stopped catching up with people since he woke. And there are plenty of Fae down here that I’m sure he’ll be paying a visit to later.” A small laugh escaped him. “Even before, it was like this. Back in Dalstead.”

It was strange to think that they knew each other before she and Holt had met, when they both worked for Arnir. Though really it was Marcus and Aurelia they’d worked for all along.

“I want to hear about everything,” her brother added, “but—”

“We don’t have time to sit around chatting. I know. Would an apothecary’s daughter be of any use to the Black Veil?” She rose from the table and made her way to the door. “My magic is not what it was, but I can help.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Zylah, I shouldn’t have left you both so close to the vanquicite; let’s get you out of here.”

“No, that’s not… I’m fine, it doesn’t affect us as much as the others.” She wasn’t entirely certain why, though she had her suspicions. Her hopes, however fragile. “I meant”—Zylah waved a hand at her eyes—“I’m still adjusting.”

“Of course.”

“It’s fine, it’s just that so much has happened I don’t really think my mind and my body has truly had time to catch up. I’ll just need a bit of time.” She elbowed him playfully, just to reassure him she was alright. “Now show me the way, oh, benevolent leader.”

“I heard what happened with Jesper,” Zack said, quietly enough that only she would hear as they passed a few humans eating their morning meal. “Back at the mine.” Groups of humans lined the tunnel, barrels acting as tables and crates as stools. A mixture of candles and orblights lit the space, and as far as Zylah’s still sluggish magic could stretch, there were members of the Black Veil chatting quietly, the occasional laugh breaking through. They were all weary and exhausted, some wounded, and she felt their tired attention on her as they passed, no doubt taking in her covered eyes.

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