Page 79 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

The Aster fell, pulling a thrall down with it and crushing it beneath its weight. At her back, Holt fought the second Aster, the monster howling in pain at the same time Zylah slammed her sword into the chest of the first, pushing the blade in deep until it stilled.

A familiar, unwelcome presence echoed down the threads as Zylah yanked her bloodied sword free and swung for another thrall. “Vampires,” she called out to Holt. “Three. And a host of thralls.” He grunted his acknowledgement as he fought two more of them, his movements precise and his blows powerful. She’d spent the past few days training with him, and it was clear now how much he’d been holding back.

The Fae were already tiring; only a few of them had magic, one of them sending bursts of snow like miniature explosions to stun the thralls, his friends using the opportunity to take the creatures down with their blades.

Finn wielded multiple daggers that moved at his command, metal slicing into the rotten flesh of a thrall’s torso, the thing shrieking as it brought a hand to one of the blades. Zylah didn’t have time to watch. Her opponent swung for her, its one remaining eye bulging where the flesh of the socket was completely eaten away by whatever half-state of decay they seemed to exist in.

She dodged the strike, slashing her sword across its chest and kicking it away as the vampires neared. Whatever magic she used had to be considered; if she or Holt overused their power too quickly they’d burn each other out. But as a single vampire burst into the clearing and sank his teeth into one of the Fae, shoving the lifeless body away from him a heartbeat later, Zylah knew that moment might come faster than she’d have liked.

Holt evanesced to the vampire before she could call out a warning, swinging his sword at the monster’s neck just as the rest of its vicious pack appeared through the trees. The two remaining vampires took one look at their fallen friend and charged for Holt, teeth bared.

Another thrall lunged for Zylah, but she ducked out of its way, her attention fixed on Holt and the two vampires that circled him. She evanesced to his side and he used the vampire’s momentary surprise to his advantage just as she did, both of them striking their blades, moving together to drive the vampires back.

There were too many thralls to count. Only four Fae remained from what Zylah could tell as she moved: Finn, two more males and a female, all of them tiring, all of them wounded. A thrall snatched one of Finn’s blades from its shoulder and slammed it into his leg, the Fae’s cries drawing Zylah’s attention.

“Zylah!” Holt called out, and she pivoted just in time to avoid the worst of a vampire’s tackle, the air rushing out of her as it shoved her into the snow. She scrambled to her feet but the male caught her ankle, black, gleaming eyes shining with delight as he laughed, yanking her towards him.

Zylah shoved her boot into his face, bone cracking beneath the blow, his grip on her ankle only tightening. With a roar he dragged her through the snow, hands slamming down over her throat, teeth bared and a savage look of glee lighting up his empty eyes.

It was Raif’s face she saw. His laugh she heard as the vampire delighted in the way he’d captured her, fear pinning her in his hold. His hands squeezed tighter, Zylah’s breath faltering beneath his fingers as he inched closer to her vein, her nails tearing at his face.

She thought of Nye’s shadows, of the way the general gave them physical form, wished that she could shove them down the vampire’s throat. He made a choked sound above her, hands loosening and Zylah shoved him back, scrambling from his touch as a wisp of black burst from his mouth with a splutter.

The moment she took to stare in disbelief cost her, a thrall reaching for her arm to continue dragging her through the snow. Zylah loosed her dagger from her boot, slicing the thing’s wrist and pulling away before evanescing to Finn and the others to pull them back behind a cluster of rocks.

Her feet barely touched the snow before magic erupted. Holt’s magic. The burst of power so great it lit up every thread she’d left unravelled, tearing a gasp from her throat as he set his magic on fire, as the thralls fell and the remaining two vampires went up in flames beside them. They made no sound as the inferno blazed brighter, the force of Holt’s power already rendering them lifeless.

He’d combined his magic. Forged fire with the strength of his blast, killing the creatures and incinerating them so wholly there was no sign they’d even existed. And with a wave of his hand the flames ceased, pride swelling in Zylah’s chest at his control. He’d combined itintentionally. Manipulated it with precision, and that, that was no small feat.

Cheers and whoops sounded behind her, but Holt’s eyes found Zylah’s and slid to her arm, evanescing the space between them to reappear at her side.

“That was… how did you do that?” Zylah asked, her voice little more than a gasp from the vampire’s hold as she studied Holt’s face for any hint of regret, for the elation, the heady rush she knew accompanied using his power that way, but his mask was firmly back in place. “It was incredible.” Blood dripped down her arm. The final thrall that had dragged her through the snow, or any of the ones that came before it, Zylah couldn’t be certain, her other hand instinctively reaching up to check the wound. She felt breathless from the use of so much magic, lightheaded, but the adrenaline kept her standing, or maybe it was a little of what Holt was feeling after using his magic.

“I had an incentive,” Holt said, his voice tight. “Show me.”

“It’ll heal,” she murmured as his words settled over her.

“Show me, Zylah.”

She wasn’t certain if it was the use of the magic he was usually so careful to avoid, or the fact that it was his first time using it by choice since Ranon had commanded it from him that harshened his tone. Or perhaps it was the surprise of combining his abilities so adeptly, but the way the roughness in his voice bordered on desperation had her shifting to show him the wound, just to reassure him she was fine.

“Zylah… Much has happened since we last met. We can take care of your injuries within the safety of the court. We owe you our lives,” Finn said breathlessly beside them, one of his friends tying a strip of fabric around his wounded leg and pulling him to his feet as he took in the cloth over Zylah’s eyes, her ears.

Holt ignored the Fae, fingers curling around Zylah’s elbow with care, his eyes darkening as they flicked to the marks the vampire had no doubt left on her throat. Another ripple of his power brushed over her skin, and Zylah sucked in a breath as his healing magic poured into her, knitting together the broken flesh until no trace of the attack remained. And even then, his fingers slid up her arm to settle over her throat, more of his power spiralling through her and sending shivers dancing across her skin.

His thumb swiped once, twice, the shadow that had fallen over his eyes lifting a little when he seemed satisfied she was fine. He’d healed himself too, Zylah noted, unable to keep the threads of her magic from roaming over his skin to check for any signs of injury.

“There’s nothing left,” one of the Fae remarked as they inspected the space the vampires and thralls had just occupied, the snow melted away from Holt’s inferno.

“How did you know you could do that?” Zylah asked quietly, studying Holt’s face for any sign that using so much of his power had affected him negatively. She found none, but she felt it. Every feeling he was trying so hard to keep under wraps.

“You showed me. Back in the maze.” When she’d pulled the roots from the earth. “I saw the shadows. I felt—” His brow pinched together, something passing over his face for a moment. Zylah felt a spike of fear in her chest, gone so quickly she thought she’d imagined it.

“Please, drink this so we can get you inside.” The female Fae pressed a water canister into Zylah’s hand. “It’s spelled. From our spring, to protect our court.”

Zylah knew it well. The water from Mae’s court concealed sound and scent, lesser acts of magic, stronger than the spell they’d once used. The last time they’d arrived the High Lady had made them strip down and bathe in the water instead, but Zylah kept that memory to herself for the moment. Perhaps it wasn’t best to show her hand so quickly. Instead she sniffed at the canister out of habit, taking a swig and handing it to Holt as she offered the Fae her thanks.

“There could be more of them,” the female said, casting her gaze at the patch of dirt in the middle of the clearing. Scratches covered her rosy cheeks, her amber hair torn free in parts from twin braids. A bandage had been tied around her arm; both bracers at her wrists were bloodied and stained. She’d fought well, well enough that she’d lived and five others didn’t.

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