Page 84 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

Zylah bit back a retort, her heart swelling at the way he always put her needs first. They dressed in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other as they slipped on their clothes. She began to braid her hair but Holt’s hands settled over hers, deftly plaiting it in her place and sliding the leather fastening from her fingertips to secure it when he was done.

They hadn’t talked about his sister since Zylah had found him in the cell. How it was her death that set him on the path he followed. “You can talk about her, if you want to,” she told him. “Adina. You can talk to me about anything.”

He rested her braid against her shoulder, offering her a sad, knowing smile. “Thank you.”

They made their way through the house towards the kitchen, the space emptier than Zylah had anticipated. Plants hung from almost every wall, some only growing under the glow of orblights. There was no sign of Dalana or Ellisar, none of the refugees Zylah knew they were housing.

“Where is everyone?” she asked as she took in the empty table, the chairs neatly pushed in around it. A pile of letters and drawings lay at one end, from the children, Zylah gathered, judging by the quality of the stick figures sprawled across them.

“Lana told me last night it’s become something of a tradition for them all to eat breakfast out in the court together.” Holt grabbed a basket of eggs from the counter, pulling out a chair for her as he made his way over to the stove. “But I thought you’d like some quiet. She said we could help ourselves to anything.”

“Are you keeping me to yourself?” Zylah rested an elbow on the table, her chin in her hand as she watched him break the eggs into a pan, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Guilty.” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes dancing with mischief. But the lightness quickly faded, his shoulders stiffening as he moved to fill the kettle. “I don’t know how much you know about my history with Mae.”

“Enough to know she used you when you were younger. That she took advantage of you for no reason other than she could.” Zylah didn’t attempt to rein in her anger. Even before she’d known what she and Holt were to each other, Zylah had wanted to see Mae suffer for the way she’d used Holt.

“What happened the last time we were here?” He set a cup of steaming tea in front of her; one inhale told her it was honey and alea blossom, just the way she liked it.

“She’d been spreading rumours about the two of you.” Zylah curled her fingers around the cup, considering her words as she sifted through her memories, her temper spiking. “And on our last day here, she lashed one of the members of her court.” Even now, she could feel the bounty hunter’s whip splitting her skin, the pain white hot and burning. “I stepped in to help, and when she raised her whip to me, you intervened. Reprimanded her for gossiping and brought her overinflated ego back to reality. It was quite the spectacle.”

Holt’s knuckles turned white as he set a plate of food in front of her. “Were you harmed?”

“No. I was fine.”

He loosed a breath, taking the seat opposite. Zylah didn’t feel like eating after the direction their conversation had taken but he’d gone to the effort of making it for her, and she knew her body needed it. A little more of the tension fell away from him as she tucked into her plate, Holt’s untouched before him.

He reached for his brin fruit, rolling it in his palm. “Sometimes I think I’m remembering,” he said quietly, inspecting the green fruit before his eyes darted up to meet Zylah’s. “Sitting opposite you, here.” He glanced around the kitchen. “What I felt when I looked at you.”

Zylah forced herself to swallow her mouthful of eggs. “What did you feel?”

A pinch of his brow, and he rested the brin fruit on the table. “Fear.” His throat bobbed. “That I couldn’t help you. That I was going to lose you. But I don’t think…” Holt’s eyes pressed shut, and though his face was a practised mask of calm, Zylah felt the pain that rippled from him.

“That’s enough thinking for today,” she managed, pressing the brin fruit into his hand. “I’m here. Safe and whole. The vanquicite made me sick and… It was a difficult time. Difficult to accept the things I’d done. The ways I’d changed.” All the ways she’d fucked things up between them. “But you…” She studied his face, both of them still holding onto the brin fruit. “You have been there for me through all of it. And I am not going anywhere. Let me be here for you. Please.”

Holt took Zylah’s other hand, turning it upright on the table. “I have a feeling I’ve never denied you anything,” he said, a canna cake appearing in her palm. “Thank you.”

When they made their way down into the court a short while later, Kopi flying to Zylah’s shoulder the minute they left Dalana and Ellisar’s place, a sombre mood had settled in the stifling air. Mae had returned.

But Holt made no move to seek her out, and neither did Zylah. They didn’t have to. Before they could join Dalana and Ellisar at one of the breakfast tables, Finn approached them, along with the female Zylah had healed the day before.

“Lady Maelissa wishes to see you both,” the Fae told them.

Zylah exchanged a look with Holt, gauging his reaction. “Lead the way,” she told Finn, her eyes still on Holt. She hadn’t covered them that morning, not when most of the court would have likely heard the tale of yesterday’s attack by now. And Zylah still needed to spend as much time getting accustomed to the way her magic overlapped the shadows, to the grainy film coating everything even when both versions of her sight aligned.

They followed Finn and the female in silence to the large trees at the heart of the court, up a winding staircase and across one of the walkways, nothing but the sound of the falls breaking the silence between them all.

Spray from another of the cascades misted over Zylah’s face as they passed behind it, the rock beyond opening out into another home. Mae’s home. She sat on a large bed, propped up by dozens of cushions, attendants combing her hair and massaging oil into her legs. Her only clothes were a pair of elbow length gloves and matching gauzy red underwear, leaving very little to the imagination.

“Prince of the Forest,” Mae drawled, reaching out a hand for Holt. “You came.”

Holt didn’t move from Zylah’s side.

The Fae shifted her gaze to Zylah, no doubt taking in her pointed ears, her ruined eyes. “What did I tell you, Zylah? He always comes back to me eventually.”

“My promise to remove you from this court still stands, Mae,” Holt said, with enough lethal calm in his voice that some of the attendants paused in their tasks.

Zylah schooled her face to neutrality at his words. She hadn’t told him that part over breakfast, and she wasn’t about to let slip to Mae the details of what had happened to him. Who he chose to tell and what was up to him.

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