Page 72 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

Her friend nodded. But she was right, of course. Zylah tugged the cloth over her eyes down to her neck, Nye’s shadow silhouette blurring with the other version of her Zylah could see.

“There are going to be many occasions when a cloth over your eyes will give you the upper hand. I know you’re no stranger to being underestimated. Use it to your advantage. But we need to make sure it doesn’t become a liability for you, either.”

Zylah heard the words Nye wasn’t saying. Not just a liability to herself, but to the others, too.

“We’ll train mostly with your eyes uncovered. We need to make sure you’re prepared for all outcomes.” Nye took a few steps back, angling her head as shadows pooled at her feet.

“Here?” Zylah asked. This wasn’t a sparring ring. The ground was covered in snow, any dips and divots in the dirt concealed along with anything else that might be hiding underneath it, the area thick with trees and logs.

Nye looked beyond the wards into the darkness of Kerthen. “The monsters we’re fighting are out here,” she said, something hard in her tone. “Not in a training ring.” A creature wailed in the distance as if in answer to her words, but Nye didn’t baulk. The hardness in her expression faded, the corners of her mouth tipping up into a wide grin as her shadows spread. “I don’t have long before rounds. Let’s make this count.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Nye’splanworked.Zylahspent the next three days distracted by training, aiding the healers, and sparring with anyone who was willing. Kej and Daizin mostly, though they came and went throughout each day. Sometimes for missions, sometimes, Zylah suspected, for more engaging activities if Kej’s innuendos were anything to go by.

Since her magic and her healing seemed to be tied to Holt’s, she hadn’t felt comfortable beginning testing without him, but Okwata had enough on his hands anyway with the arrenium, working with Nye’s blacksmiths to forge blades from the bow Kej and Daizin had stolen.

As the fourth day rolled around, unease settled under her ribs, heavy and persistent. Nye had told her not to worry, but by the fifth afternoon after barely sleeping at all, the unease had turned to full-blown panic. Both Holt and Zack had accompanied Arlan and a cohort of soldiers, and there had been no word from any of them.

Rin had made herself scarce, and Zylah was beginning to wonder if the Fae was ignoring her as she spotted her friend darting from the healers’ tent, tucking a vial into her pocket. Whatever arrangement existed between Arlan and the Aquaris Court, Rin had clearly been unsettled by it before, but things seemed different now. She watched her friend slip away between tents, not, Zylah noted, in the direction of the tent they’d been sharing to sleep in, though Rin was scarcely in it. Arlan’s army were mostly stationed on the side of the camp her friend headed for, Arlan’s tent included. Zylah huffed a quiet laugh to herself at the sight, at how very wrong her previous assumptions had been.

The scent of herbs hit her as she entered the healers’ tent a few minutes later, Deyna waving her over. A young female from Arlan’s army lay on a cot, half her left arm shredded and bloody, a shard of shattered bone exposed at her elbow. Zylah willed a gentle smile to her face as she rested a hand over the female’s undamaged one, noting the way Deyna had somehow stopped the wound from bleeding.

Soldiers had been coming back like this every day; skirmishes with vampires and thralls were frequent, but that was part of Nye and Arlan’s strategy. To pick off as many as they could with small groups, the ones that had scattered across Astaria and were terrorising the towns and villages, no doubt at Aurelia and Ranon’s command. And though Zylah could heal flesh wounds, broken bones were a different matter entirely, though Deyna had been gently trying to nudge her towards that task.

Unease slithered over Zylah’s skin at the question she knew was coming.

“This is Maya,” Deyna told her. Zylah squeezed her hand gently, and the soldier offered something halfway between a grimace and a smile in return, sweat dampening her cheeks and forehead. “I’ve explained there’s very little we can do to save the arm. She’s agreed to let you try to heal it with magic.”

Zylah kept her eyes covered when she entered the healers’ tent, only so as not to startle the wounded, and in that moment, she was grateful for the wince the cloth would have concealed. She’d inspected her eyes closely in a mirror now that she was growing accustomed to using her other vision to aid her damaged eyesight. Both eyes had a milky film over them just as Deyna had described, the pupils grey, irises a dark blue instead of their usual violet. Despite the damage to her eyesight, with practise, she could almost align the two versions of her vision, though it was still mostly shadows and a grainy haze that lingered in her eyes thanks to Rhaznia’s venom.

The effect reminded her of her father’s cellulose paper; he’d used it often to trace diagrams for clients at the apothecary, two images lining up over each other as he checked his work for accuracy. Only right now, there were thick shadow spots on Zylah’s first layer that she was still learning to tune out during sparring. Another reason to be grateful for the cloth, as this was a task that required accuracy.

“I’m Zylah,” she told the soldier with a small smile. “Is this true? Do you understand I have no idea of knowing if this will work?” The words were gentle but firm, because Zylah needed the Fae to understand the truth of them.

Maya gave a tight nod. “If I’m going to lose it, I want to know I tried everything. Even if it hurts.”

Zylah swallowed. Deyna had a kind of magic of her own. The removal of the vanquicite from Zylah’s back was evidence enough of that, though she understood Holt had played a huge part in her healing. She’d seen the witch set bones, but nothing on this scale.

“Very well,” she said lightly, swapping places with Deyna and settling her weight on the witch’s stool. She took in Maya’s damaged arm without touching it, seeking out the best place to begin and opted for the female’s shoulder.

Beneath the cloth, her eyes flicked up to meet Deyna’s, the witch giving her an almost imperceptible nod. No pressure. Only the prospect of this young Fae living the rest of her life with only one arm. Zylah had been careful over the last few days not to pull too deeply on her well of power, not to delve too far into the part she now understood she shared with Holt, whether he understood it or not. Which meant she needed to watch her reserves closely as she worked, to refine her outpouring of magic rather than throwing everything she had into it.

Zylah allowed herself one last look at Maya’s face before she shifted her concentration to the Fae’s shoulder, hands resting over her uniform before the wound opened over the bicep. She didn’t close her eyes, didn’t try to close her mind’s eye to her other sight, but instead, did the opposite. Zylah let the threads of her magic pool into the wound, tracing over ruined flesh, torn muscle, shattered bone, feeling, learning, understanding how it all wove back together again.

In the past, she’d emptied her healing magic into the recipient, pulling it from within herself like pouring water from a cup. But now, with a deep breath, she commanded it to pull. To weave, to knit, to mend, to create.

More, more, more, she silently told it. And it responded. Power flared at her fingertips, threads of light spiralling around Maya’s arm, the Fae gritting her teeth and groaning. It wasn’t pleasant; Zylah could feel the echo of every sensation tremoring down the threads all the way back to her bones. But she didn’t stop, not until the bone mended, the muscle, the flesh. Not until the Fae’s arm was smooth skin exposed only by her tattered and bloodied uniform.

Maya loosed a breathy laugh. Let out a deliriouswhoopin elation, her head falling back onto the cot. Her other hand grasped Zylah’s arm, and for the first time, Zylah noticed the claws at the end of her fingers. A half Fae.

“Thank you,” she breathed, a tear rolling down her cheek as Zylah checked the reflexes on her mended arm. “Holt told me you were skilled, but that was incredible.”

Zylah stilled. “You were part of his cadre?”

“They aren’t back? They were supposed to follow us. Zack made me leave with one of the scouts and the other wounded.” Maya tried to push to her elbows, but Deyna stopped her with a gentle hand.

“I can finish here, Zylah. Excellent work.”

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