Page 41 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

“Horse shit,” he snapped.

He kicked at the weapons, and Zylah dropped to her knees, patting her hands on the carpet to make a show of feeling for them, hissing and snatching her hand back when she nicked her palm on the edge of her sword. But she did as they asked, fingers closing around the hilt and rising to her feet, the weapon raised before her, her other hand dripping blood on the carpet.

“Disappointing,” the male said, taking another step closer, canines bared at the sight of her blood. “We were hoping for a challenge.”

Zylah pivoted as they both came at her, swinging her blade and narrowly missing the male. Tesha laughed. “You’re a good liar, I’ll give you that.” Zylah moved as she did, slashing and striking, but Tesha evaded every blow, laughing as if it were all just a game to her, which, Zylah supposed, it probably was. One Zylah knew she had no chance of winning.

She struck again, her blade almost meeting skin this time as something hard and heavy cracked into her back, then her knees. Zylah stumbled, the male knocking her sword from her grip and tackling her to the floor. She scratched and tore at the vampire’s hair, his face, anything to keep those fangs from sinking into flesh, and just as Zylah thought the male was going to strike, the vampire gasped. Hot, wet liquid seeped over Zylah’s torso, and she shoved at the dead weight against her, struggling to get out from underneath it, panic rising in her at the thought of being trapped again.

The vampire’s body rolled aside, and Holt’s warm, calloused fingers wrapped around Zylah’s, pulling her to her feet. “Nice to meet you, Zylah,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up in another almost-smile that squeezed at her heart.

She thought of the first time he’d ever said those words to her, when he’d helped her run from Arnir’s men and the promise of the rope. Now he held her spear, blood spattered across his face and chest, the vampires dead beside him. This close, she could feel his warmth, the earthy scent of acani berries washing over her.

“How did you get out of your cell?” Zylah breathed, adrenaline still coursing through her as she stared at him in silent awe.

“I borrowed this.” He pressed the hairpin into her palm. “From your pocket.”

Zylah couldn’t hide the surprise from her face. “You summoned it?”

He dipped his chin in acknowledgement, and Zylah’s heart swelled with another surge of hope. He was in there still, no matter what Aurelia and Ranon had done to him, no matter that he’d once been able to open locks with his magic, to send messages to fixed points, that he had been so powerful he had to keep his magic muted for fear of it being traced.

“Good,” she managed. “That’s good.”

Holt’s smile grew at the echo of his words, and she resisted the urge to reach for him again. Instead, she reached for her sword, her skin prickling as her fingers closed around the hilt. “What was that?” Zylah murmured, the feeling washing over her again.

“More of them are coming.” Holt’s attention snapped to the doors, the words barely out of his mouth as an explosion rattled the foundations of the building.

Four vampires came at them, and Zylah knew she and Holt stood no chance of running. She struck at the first, Holt moving beside her to swing the spear at two more.

“Holt,” Zylah said through gritted teeth as she narrowly missed a strike. A plea. They couldn’t fight their way out of this, and he knew it.

“I can’t,” he cut back.

“Now,” Zylah rasped, narrowly missing a sword to the gut. “Just do it.”

For a heartbeat, she thought he wasn’t going to unleash his power. That he couldn’t, or maybe he flat out refused. But then the familiar surge hit her, knocking the breath from her lungs and shoving her to her knees. Her vision failed, receding to a dark haze again, her breaths like fire in her lungs.

Strong arms pulled her to her feet. “Come on,” Holt breathed, his voice strained, concern edging his tone.

“I can’t see,” Zylah murmured, her head spinning, or maybe it was the room around her; she couldn’t tell anymore.

Holt eased her sword from her grip and pulled her into his arms, lifting her like she weighed nothing. “Show me,” he said, jostling her to keep her awake.

“Behind the throne. To the wall,” she managed. He pressed her good hand to the wood, moving her hurriedly along it. “Here,” she rasped, the signature of the hidden door snagging at her fingertips.

She felt the air change as they slipped into the passage, heard the door click shut behind them.

“Hey,” Holt said softly, pulling her a little tighter as he moved. “Rule number one, remember. Just stay with me.”

Zylah couldn’t help the tear that escaped at his words, his comforting scent wrapping around her, could do nothing at all as she let him carry her away from the cells, towards the safety of the tunnels.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Thefartherawaytheygot from the throne room, the better Zylah felt. By the time Holt reached the crypt, she was confident enough to stand on her own.

“Thank you,” she murmured as he lowered her to her feet. She wished she could see his face, the effects of the vanquicite and his magic still meddling with hers. They shouldn’t have stopped. There was every chance still of being discovered, but she could feel his concern as thick in the air as the dust covering the graves around them.

“Did we just almost break our rule?” he asked quietly, one hand still resting on her hip. She heard the remorse laced with his words, felt the tension rippling through him that he’d hurt her with his magic.

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