Page 36 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

Zylah bit back a whimper. “You removed me from his memories.”

“I shredded your existence from his mind,” Aurelia spat. “His mind is one tiny little tug away from breaking. Just the slightest bit of meddling will shatter it. But now you’re here, you may as well enjoy the show.” Aurelia yanked her nails free and the blanket of magic fell away. “Bring them in.”

Voices cried out, Zylah’s blood chilling as more Fae were dragged into the throne room and shoved into the cages, their cries turning to pleas when they no doubt discovered their cell mates were dead.

“What’s this? My grandson tired of his plaything so soon?” Ranon had joined them, a chuckle lining his words. He held something as he walked, light bouncing off the top of it. A staff, Zylah thought, though she couldn’t make out the details.

He stopped before her cell, tapping a blood red orb against the bars. “You escaped. Impressive. Though not without Rhaznia leaving her mark.” Another chuckle, and he moved away. Their lack of concern for Raif might have been disturbing had they not already been the worst kind of monsters. And as much as Zylah wanted to tell them what fate she’d left him to, she wouldn’t risk any harm coming to Holt.

Aurelia approached again, and this time Zylah had the sense to step back from the bars, for all the good it would do. “Call Pallia here,” she commanded.

“I told you,” Zylah ground out. “I can’t.”

A bitter laugh from the Fae. “Come now. Escaping my father’s maze is impossible. Pallia must have helped you.”

Zylah had been given help, it was true. Wouldn’t have been able to leave without Arioch and Kopi, without the limited magic she’d been able to utilise whilst she was there. “Pallia is gone. And if she isn’t, she doesn’t give a shit about me, so the outcome is still the same: she isn’t coming.”

Ranon laughed. “Arioch. That old bastard.”

Zylah held her tongue.

“Rhaznia would never let you go free,” he mused. “But Arioch. Arioch would have taken one look at you and thought you were Pallia. He helped you, didn’t he?” Ranon didn’t wait for a response. “Aurelia, my darling, we’ll deal with the Seraphim another day. Proceed as normal.”

As normal. Nothing about this was normal. Zylah’s heart beat loudly in her ears at how fucking helpless she was. She doubted she could survive four days in a cell until her friends arrived, but then, Holt had. And even when they arrived, what good would it do? They wouldn’t be able to get near the throne room with this much vanquicite inside it.

The vampires left at Ranon’s words, the heavy wooden doors closing behind them. Aurelia moved up the dais to the throne, her father remaining beside Holt’s cell.

“Since your blood didn’t heal me as it should, Zylah, my daughter was kind enough to have a backup solution in place.” Ranon tapped the orb against the vanquicite bars. “Turns out, even an old dog can be taught new tricks.” His light chuckle set the hairs on the back of Zylah’s neck on end. “Ignium.”

Holt groaned. “No,” he gritted out.

Zylah held her breath, fingers wrapping around the bars of her cell.

“Ignium,” Ranon repeated.

Holt fell to his knees, hands pulling at his hair.

“Stop,” Zylah pleaded, begging her magic to answer her when she tried to evanesce to him.

“Ignium.”

A blast of magic erupted, the feel of it both painful and familiar all at once as it washed over her body, her skin. Zylah sucked in a breath, body trembling, clutching the bars to keep herself upright. Pain stabbed through her chest. Pain she’d felt countless times over since waking up in Ranon’s maze, so sharp she could barely breathe. She blinked against the tears filling her useless eyes, her other sight failing her. Zylah couldn’t see Holt, but she knew the pain she felt was just as much his as it was hers. That it had been all along.

In the silence that followed, there was only the sound of Holt’s ragged breaths, her own broken gasps. Too much silence, because every Fae besides Ranon and Aurelia was dead.

Chapter Twenty

Ranonsighed.“There.Thatwasn’t so difficult, was it?” The orb glowed bright red, the only detail Zylah could make out anymore, and a sickening realisation washed over her as it blazed.

All Fae possess a certain amount of magic. Ranon had said as much back in his maze. And Holt’s was a mixture of his parents’—he’d inherited his father’s ability, but where his father could only use his magic one on one, Holt’s was far greater—a blast of power he could release in a wave, taking out everything in its path.

“That kind of magic takes its toll over time… it’s like a drug… you want to feel the rush the more you use it,”he’d told her back in Varda. And Ranon had been forcing him, over and over again. To kill Fae… and to harness their power for himself in the orb he held at the end of his staff. Zylah would put money on it.

“Look at me,” Zylah whispered, her voice breaking as she sank to her knees, pain squeezing at her heart. “Holt. Look at me.”

The orb tapped against the bars of Holt’s cell again, but Holt didn’t look up, and Zylah’s sight had failed her too badly to know if his eyes were open. She could hear his breaths, his rapid heartbeat, and she wished more than anything she could send him some comfort down their bond, but there was still nothing in the place it should have been.

“Holt. It’s alright. Just breathe with me,” she told him.

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