Page 104 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

Okwata and Ahrek entered the tent, Arioch at their side, but Zylah’s eyesight was too poor to make out their reaction to the Yzdrit’s presence in the dim orblight. The scientist had schooled his expression well, only offering them a polite smile in greeting.

You can’t keep pushing yourself to your limits,Holt said quietly in her thoughts. There was a plea wrapped up in the statement, but his words were firm.

She glanced over her shoulder to take in the details of his face, the flecks of gold in his eyes, until the shadows in hers blotted out everything but him. She would never take for granted being able to sit beside him. Being able to hear his heart beat in time with hers.You spent three months enduring that; I’ll be fine.

I can’t—he cut himself off. Okwata and the blacksmiths were talking.You were right. I think they’re the same.

Zylah could see little of their exchange, but she didn’t need to.

“A fellow traveller,” Hayat said. “You’re here alone?”

Okwata hummed. “My partner and I travel together. But his home is… elsewhere.” Ahrek was silent at his side, but Zylah’s magic hadn’t replenished enough to see through his deceits, to spot the feline features she’d seen before.

“What is happening right now?” Kej whispered at Zylah’s other side, Daizin shushing him quietly.

“And a Seraphim. We have not seen your kind here before,” Hayat added.

“You likely won’t,” Arioch told him with a sad smile.

Zylah wondered if he wanted to return to wherever he came from. If he could. Though she had no doubt all of them would rather be anywhere but in the crowded camp, risking their lives day in and day out.

They’re all here for the same reasons you are, Holt told her.They all want their freedom; to secure a better future for their loved ones.Affection curled around the words, settling over Zylah’s heart. A future with him. There had barely been time to consider it. But they’d found each other no matter what Ranon and Aurelia tried to throw at them; she would never give him up.

Holt echoed the sentiment, his fierce devotion rolling over her skin.

“The vanquicite?” Nye asked, after a few more questions between Okwata and the Yzdrit.

“Zy got every last fucking bit of it,” Kej said, tapping his fist on the table in an effort to contain his excitement.

Nye’s sigh was audible. She ignored her cousin, introducing herself and Zack to the two Yzdrit as generals in a joint army, fighting for the same cause, before deferring to Holt.

He left Zylah’s side to walk around the table. A map of Astaria lay spread across the rough wood, far too many black pebbles indicating the presence of vampires, of villages razed. “You’ve seen what Ranon is doing,” he said, his gaze darting over markers before meeting the blacksmiths’ eyes. “You’ve walked through our camp; you know what our plans are. You know what we want.” He stood at the head of the table, his expression schooled to practised neutrality. “You aren’t prisoners here, but I won’t see our soldiers giving up their rations to feed you if you’ve no interest in providing the arrenium. And I’ve no desire to know what twisted bargains you made with Mae and the people of her court. Either you’ll help us, help the people of Astaria secure their freedom, or you won’t.”

The Yzdrit exchanged a look before Hayat spoke. “We’d like a few days to reach our conclusion.”

“We don’t have a few days. Ranon intends to use the blood moon in a little over a week’s time. You have until this time tomorrow to decide. And you hunt or forage for your own food. Kerthen is not a place to wander after dark; our wards only stretch so far. Okwata, Ahrek. Perhaps you could find them a space for the night.” Holt’s attention shifted over the map again, something tightening in his expression.

Zylah knew why. Without the arrenium, taking out all the vampires could take years. Decades, even, if they created more of them faster than they died. At the other end of the table, Okwata smiled brightly, patted Ahrek on the hand, and the two of them escorted the blacksmiths from the tent.

“I don’t like them,” Kej muttered. He hadn’t produced a wine bottle, and he was being relatively restrained, all things considered. Even Nye seemed surprised at that.

Holt folded his arms as he leaned against a tall wooden chest. His leathers were torn in a few places, dried blood crusting the edges, but he’d healed himself back on the rooftop. “Arioch. We need whatever information you can give us about Ranon and Imala’s relationship. We’re missing too many pieces.”

The Seraphim looked between Nye and Daizin before he spoke. “Imala was like them. Different to the others.” His focus seemed to drift, and Zylah suspected he was no longer sitting with them in his mind. “Sira and Pallia were inseparable at first. Alone, their power was unrivalled, but together, it was frightening. Then Imala joined them. They were sisters not by blood, but by magic. A binding spell.” He shifted his attention to Holt. “They made themselves into something different to the remaining six. Witches, they called themselves. Ranon showed an interest in all three of them over the years. He always coveted their power.”

“He imprisoned you out of spite?” Zylah asked, piecing everything together. He’d said he’d been one of Imala’s lovers, back when she met him in the maze. The Seraphim nodded. Imprisoned for centuries. Zylah didn’t know how he hadn’t lost his mind. She sifted through all she’d learnt, everything she knew about the original nine, the stories of how Ranon and Sira broke away from the other seven. “Sira was never truly Ranon’s, was she?”

“Sira was the first of Ranon’s conquests because she was the most powerful of the three. Imala and I were together at the time. But then…” Arioch swallowed, his gaze flicking between Holt and Zylah. “Sira and I discovered what we were to each other, and after that, Ranon and Imala sought comfort in each other’s beds.”

“Because you couldn’t return their affections,” Holt said flatly.

Arioch nodded.

“Aurelia isn’t Sira’s child,” Zylah murmured.

“Sira and I had been together for a year when Ranon imprisoned me. She would never… not willingly…” The Seraphim paled at the implication.

“Was Imala pregnant?” Nye asked.

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