Page 47 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

He had a point. She’d told him a little of what had happened in the days leading up to her return to the city, and Luan had cursed under his breath more than once, despite his usually sunny disposition. And if he was right about how much magic she was using, there was every chance that all she was doing was depleting herself, as much as she hated to admit it.

Zylah summoned a brin fruit from the botanical gardens, leaving it on her vacant stool for Luan, her new friend nodding his thanks, and with that, she left him to it.

She should have gone back to Zack’s quarters to rest as Luan had instructed, but too much nervous anticipation hummed through her for her friends’ safe arrival, for everything that came next. For Holt’s recovery, whatever that might look like and whether or not she’d have a part in his future.

As she walked through the tunnels, nodding at the humans that greeted her, all she could think of was how much she wanted Aurelia to suffer for everything that she’d done. Zylah understood all too well the desire to see her father again; not a day went by when she didn’t miss his advice, his wisdom. His love. But raising him from the dead as Aurelia had done with Ranon was madness.

Marcus had kept secrets from Aurelia, Luan had said. And Zylah had never really heard Raif and Rose speak fondly of their mother before they’d learnt of her return. Could it be that Aurelia had pushed everyone away, that her father had been all she had left? Marcus had been her mate, but that he’d kept the tunnels a secret had Zylah suspecting things between them had not been so straightforward.

A darker section of tunnel had her summoning an orblight, a few humans gasping as it appeared in her hands. “Sorry,” she mumbled quietly, head down as she pressed on. This was no place for anyone to live, and though most of the living areas were mercifully dry, the air was thick, the stone cold, the people skittish from too many days down in the dark. Nye’s scouts couldn’t arrive soon enough.

Up ahead, the threads of her magic licked at the perimeter that marked the border into the Fae section of the tunnels, a tremor rattling through the spool. An argument. Between humans and Fae. Not quite the idyllic cohabitation Luan had described.

With quickening steps, Zylah pressed on through the tunnels, the orblight casting long shadows on the passageways devoid of inhabitants. She was close enough to hear the quarrelling now, close enough to feel the unease ripple in the air against her skin, close enough to feel—Zylah sucked in a breath. Holt. Approaching from an adjacent tunnel.

He reached the disputing party before she did, his quiet, steady voice breaking through the argument. Zylah tucked the orblight into her bag before she rounded the corner and took in the scene: a human, wide eyed and trembling, blood trickling from his split lip. Two faeries, one with short, stubby horns, the other, a High Fae with pointed ears and sharp, grey eyes, a tremor rippling through him with his unbridled anger.

“Steal food and you get what’s fucking coming to you,” the High Fae spat at the human.

“That’s enough, Kadir,” Holt told him. The deathly stillness she’d observed so many times before had fallen over him, the command in his tone irrefutable. Kadir took a step back, the other faerie grasping at his sleeve.

“Since you left that human to run things, this is how the rest of them treat us. They don’t think twice about stealing from under our noses.” Kadir shrugged off the other faerie, squaring up to Holt.

Holt’s eyes flicked to Zylah’s face for a moment, then back to Kadir. “That human,” he said quietly, “has a name. Zack. And he’s the reason you’re getting out of here in the next forty-eight hours.” He reached for something at their feet Zylah hadn’t noticed, an overflowing basket of bread, taking out a small loaf before handing the rest to Kadir. “Pull this shit again and I’ll have them evanesce you into the centre of Kerthen.”

The horned faerie tugged Kadir away, and Holt turned his attention to the human.

“I’m sorry,” the human began, wiping at his bleeding mouth. “I didn’t mean to start a fight. My wife is pregnant; I just wanted to bring her something for her evening meal.”

Holt pressed the loaf into his hands. “Go,” he told him, “take the left tunnel, you’ll avoid running into any more of them.”

“Wait,” Zylah said, stepping closer. She summoned another brin fruit to her palm and handed it to the trembling human, along with the orblight.

His fear still rippled the air around them, his fingers tightening around the glowing orb. “Th-thank you,” he stammered, his brow scrunching as he took in Zylah’s cloth-covered eyes, her pointed ears. With one last glance between her and Holt, he nodded his thanks and left the way Holt had instructed.

“I never thought I’d miss being able to do that,” Holt said beside her.

She turned to arch a brow at him, waiting for whatever was on his mind.

“The summoning,” he admitted, examining his hands. “I thought with the hairpin…” He shook his head. “I can’t do half the things I used to.”

“You had a vanquicite sword through your chest, were kept in a cell made of the stuff for weeks, and—”

“Murdered dozens of innocents?”

“Tortured. I was going to say tortured.”

Holt rubbed a hand over his chest as if he were recalling the moment the sword had struck true, and Zylah had to look away from him. Pushing that memory from her mind every waking moment was just as exhausting as the use of her magic.

“What happened? After?” she asked, the question barely a whisper in the quiet of the tunnel.

Holt cleared his throat. “I don’t—” A frown. “I don’t remember. Only pain. Waking up in the cell. Falling in and out of consciousness and having no idea how much time had passed. Only sometimes…”

“Sometimes?” Aurelia must have tampered with his memories when he was unconscious, their bond, severed it perhaps, if such a thing were possible. It was the question on her mind day and night since she’d found him. But she’d felt him, could feel him, still. She was sure of it. So how was is it possible he couldn’t feel her?

He studied her face, whatever he was going to say shut away with the smoothing of his features. “Thank you. For the brin fruit. You didn’t have to do that.”

Zylah waved a hand in the direction the human had fled. “I lived most of my life believing I was human. We’re not so different.”

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