Page 32 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

“Maelissa sent her general to lead their archers here two months ago, but they’ve gone missing,” Nye explained.

“Missing,” Zylah echoed. There was every possibility Maelissa had been working with Aurelia all along. And Thallan, Rose’s rejected mate, had the ability to read minds; if he was working with Aurelia too, there was no telling what information he’d delivered.

Okwata moved his chair aside, clearing a space. “Please, sit,” he said before pressing a cup into her hands. Water. “We’re here as neutral emissaries. My speciality is science, and I think I can be of some help.”

Zylah drank the water slowly, hoping it might ease the ache that had bloomed over her temples. She couldn’t stay. Couldn’t get up, most likely, if she were to try.

“Okwata was particularly interested in the techniques we used during the mine attack,” Nye added when Zylah said nothing. “We’ve been developing weapons whilst we wait for the others to arrive.”

Zylah listened to Okwata and Nye’s back and forth, but the words washed over her. She didn’t know how they could all be so calm, so put together. Every second felt like hours, time she could have been using to reach Holt.

A few others joined them: Arlan and his second in command, Nye’s commanders, discussing their plans for the next few days.Days. They had no intention of moving in on Virian until a few other allies they’d secured joined them. And then they intended to attack the palace, using the tunnels to get in undetected.

Another handful of days Holt might not have. But Zylah understood. They couldn’t risk their plans just for him; there were likely more Fae trapped alongside him. And the simple fact remained: none of them could get near the vanquicite cells.

She listened in silence to the conversation, to the soft sound of Daizin’s quiet breathing on a bedroll behind them, Kej never far from his side. He and Rin participated in the discussions now and then, always deferring to their cousin. Their general. Arlan and Nye seemed to approach the task as a unified front, for now, their commanders answering questions here and there.

Without Maelissa’s archers, they were at a disadvantage, but Cirelle’s Iyofari riders had the benefit of aerial surveillance and attacks, and as far as they knew, Ranon’s only winged forces were the grimms. Brash, sloppy fighters, but brutal, nonetheless.

They seemed hopeful about their numbers, their chances against Ranon’s forces. But Zylah couldn’t share their enthusiasm. Not just because of Holt’s predicament, but because she’d experienced Ranon and Aurelia firsthand. Even weakened as they both were, they had an army of vicious monsters at their command, savage and ferocious and cruel, capable of cutting through anything in their path. Anyone.

After a while, Arlan and his second left, Nye’s commanders following soon after. Deyna arrived to check on Zylah’s eyes, though Zylah knew what the prognosis would be.

“It’s different to the vanquicite,” the witch explained as she replaced the cloth over Zylah’s eyes with a fresh one. “Pulling that from your blood, believe it or not, was less complicated than this. Not only did it have a heavier signature for me to latch onto, but you had a lot of help.”

Holt. Zylah had Holt, tethering her to this life, to him.

“How did this happen?” Okwata asked.

“A spider,” Zylah explained, the words flat, the complete opposite of everything she felt inside.

Kej scoffed, silver-grey eyes darting over her face. “We need to work on your storytelling skills, Zy. It was a fucking terrifying giant spider with the upper body of a woman and clawed fingertips oozing venom.” He’d finished off a bottle of wine a short while before, and it only fuelled his enthusiasm for theatrics.

“I may be able to help, but I’ll need the venom,” Okwata said simply, as if he heard tales of such creatures every day.

Deyna hummed. “He’s right. Now that you can evanesce there.”

Zylahcouldevanesce now. And she was grateful, so grateful that they wanted to help her. But the thought of returning to Ranon’s maze, to Rhaznia, had the words lodged in her throat.

“When were you planning on telling me about your other sight?” Deyna asked.

Her ocean eyes searched Zylah’s face. It was still strange, this new perspective of the world, like she was viewing it through a layer of the finest, darkest silk, or a smoky piece of glass, little bits of grain covering everything. What was there to explain? How the edges of everything still seemed to blur into one, or how she could feel more than she could see? How, no matter how much more she couldseenow, she’d still give anything to have her eyesight restored?

“This is not Fae magic,” the witch told her.

Zylah took the tin of balm from her open hand. “I know.” She caught Deyna’s glance at Okwata and Ahrek, a look of uncertainty falling over her.

“It’s fine,” Zylah said. “I have nothing to hide from them.”

“I think you may have inherited some of your grandmother’s abilities.”

Because Pallia was both witch and Fae, just like her sister. Zylah had suspected as much, but her head was pounding, and though she hated to concede, she truly did need to rest, and right then, she was content to sleep where she sat.

It was Ahrek who offered the respite she so sorely needed. “You’ve all had a long day; we’ll leave you to rest.”

And it was only then that Zylah realised the tent belonged to Nye, the additional bedrolls already set out for her cousins and Daizin, for her.

“We’re a little short on tents,” Nye explained as Deyna and the others left. Rin had slipped out with them, though no one commented on the fact.

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