Page 58 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

He knelt in front of her, eyes roaming over her face. “But then you lost it again.”

“Yes,” Zylah whispered, willing her heartbeat to steady. There was no way he hadn’t heard it.

His hands came over hers, warm, solid, comforting. He was supposed to be looking for things to jog his memory, not soothing her. But she couldn’t bring herself to remind him of that, to say anything that might make him move away.

“DidIhurt you?” he asked gently.

Zylah sucked in a breath at the weight of that question. “Never.”

“Good.” His relief was palpable, shoulders loosening a fraction. “I’ll make you some tea. Honey and alea blossom?”

Another quiet huff of air escaped Zylah, and she dipped her chin in acceptance. Holt studied her face for a moment longer, the fire behind him casting him in shadow, his eyes the colour of the dark trees beyond the cabin. There was a moment she thought he might say something else, there and gone before he released her hands and pushed to his feet.

She couldn’t help but think of the first time he’d brought her there, of how he’d cared for her then, too. Always cared for her, even when he hadn’t known what they were to each other. Always offered her his friendship.

“Remember anything?” she asked when he sat down beside her and handed over a steaming mug of tea.

Holt toyed with the bracelet, watching as she blew at the hot liquid. “Some things. Little flashes.” He reached for her braid. “Like this,” he said, thumbing the plait. Zylah held her breath. “Things that feel familiar even though I have no memory ofwhy.” He rested her braid back on her shoulder, the ends slipping through his fingertips. “Like you,” he said softly.

Firelight danced across his face, orange and gold ribbons brightening his eyes, the flecks of gold in them like tiny stars. Another little flutter of hope swelled in her chest.

“I heard you,” she told him. “When I was healing Nye. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Holt shook his head, eyebrows drawing together. “You saved my friend’s life. That’s nothing to be sorry for.” His attention moved to the fire, a heaviness settling over him. “Every day in the palace, I thought they were going to bring Nye in. Or Rin or Kej, or another of my friends. That I’d have to…” His voice thickened, and it was Zylah’s turn to rest a hand over his. “I feel like, like I have no right to how I feel. So many are dead because of me.”

“You have every right,” she told him, her thumb stroking over his in a slow, steady rhythm.

Zylah felt the moment his walls fell back into place, some internal war in his thoughts fought and won. Or perhaps lost, when he gently pulled his hands from hers and rose, leaving her to clutch at her tea for something to do with her hands.

“I’m going to walk around the perimeter, see if I can remember anything. Finish your tea. Then we should get going, get as far as we can before it gets dark.”

“Take your time,” she told him, her heart twisting as she watched her mate walk out of the cabin. Despite the tea in her hands and the crackling fire beside her, Zylah couldn’t shake off the chill that hung in the air, every inhale like a cold burn. Holt was safe. Alive. Even if… she couldn’t let herself finish the thought. It was enough.

It had to be.

Chapter Thirty

Zylahhadforgottenhowmuch she loathed the mountains. They moved in much smaller bursts than they might have done had they both been at full strength, though Zylah wasn’t certain if she was tiring Holt or the other way around.

They had no need for a map now that she understood how to track her own evanescing. Whether Holt was simply moving north or some instinct was guiding him, too, she couldn’t be sure, but his knowledge of the Northern Territories was far more extensive than hers.

“This happened in the maze,” Zylah said as they paused to catch their breaths, waving a hand at the cloth over her eyes, her feet crunching in freshly fallen snow.

Holt summoned a brin fruit to his palm, offering it to Zylah.

Another echo of a memory from the first time they’d met, twisting the knot in her chest. She shook her head. “I’ve been dreaming about canna cakes.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up at her confession, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ll bake you one when we get back.”

“Only one?” A bird called out somewhere in the distance and wind rustled through the trees, but there were no other signs of life up in the mountains, only the frigid air and the sound of them both catching their breath. No sign of grimms, but that didn’t stop Zylah from reaching out as far as she could every time they stopped to be certain.

“Fine. A whole tray.” An almost smile. “Your eyes,” he prompted.

Zylah pulled back on the threads of her magic for fear of overstretching herself, withdrawing them all to a reasonable perimeter, and still she couldn’t help but scan the trees just as Holt did for any signs of danger. “Rhaznia,” she said after a heartbeat, “Lower body of a spider, upper body of… a Fae, I suppose. She has many children in the maze.” Zylah repressed a shiver at the memory. “Arioch helped me escape, and I came upon a cyon wolf and a spider, twice the size of you, fighting so hard they shook the rock around me.”

“A water serpent, giant spiders, cyon wolves. Is there any monster you haven’t stood up against and won?”

“Hmm. The cyon wolves weren’t my adversaries. Not in the end, anyway.” She thought of the female, of the wolf’s heart in Rhaznia’s hands. Of the male, curled up around her to keep her warm, fighting beside her until it met its end, gratitude warming her chest.

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