Page 9 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

“Where. Is. He?” Zylah demanded.

Raif paused and his eyes met Zylah’s. “Gone,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

“Where is he, Raif?” She needed an answer. A body. Anything. Holt was out there, somewhere, he had to be. She needed to believe it.

Raif turned away, and it was enough for Zylah to close her fingers around his wrist, her own safety be damned. “You didn’t kill him,” she whispered, understanding washing over her. But what would they need Holt for? To simply imprison him? No, Holt was powerful. His unique abilities were unrivalled. Her eyes searched Raif’s empty ones, looking for something, anything. “You’re using him.” She was desperately grasping at pieces of information, trying to scramble them together. “His magic. Youneedhim.”

Her head was spinning, eyes darting between the three of them, waiting, hoping,prayingto whoever would hear her that Holt was still alive and she wasn’t just losing her mind.

“He’s gone, Zylah,” Raif said again, firmer this time.

Zylah didn’t believe him. Wouldn’t let the little spark of hope be snuffed out, no matter how small it was, no matter how exhausted she felt. She released Raif’s wrist and folded her arms across her chest to hold herself together. “Pallia isn’t coming,” she told Ranon with as much bite to her words as she could manage.

“Liar!” Aurelia struck her again and this time Raif forced his mother back, sending her chair flying, Ranon surging to his feet as the three of them argued. Zylah didn’t care. More of Holt’s scent washed over her with Aurelia’s movement. Which meant Holt was alive. He had to be. It was the only thought Zylah could cling to.

“Your days here are limited,” Aurelia told her, glancing at Zylah’s pitiful room. “Raif is here because I promised he’d have time with his plaything.” The Fae let the words settle as Zylah wiped a thumb across her lip, split where Aurelia had struck her. “But my son always tired of his toys. He will tire of you soon.”

“Enough,” Raif snapped. “Leave. Both of you.”

Ranon had been silent, but Aurelia looked at her son like she was seeing him for the first time, a dark smile and a flash of white teeth turning her expression into something sinister as she turned back to Zylah. “When he’s done with you, your remaining days will be spent in this maze in nothing but torment. I promise you that.”

Her fingers brushed Zylah’s cheek at the same moment Raif reached for her, but Ranon held him back. Aurelia’s magic washed over Zylah, every limb paralysed, the magic delving deeper within her chest until she felt it squeeze at her lungs, at her heart, and for a second, everything stilled. The Fae released her hold almost a heartbeat too late, that wicked grin spread across her face and leaving Zylah gasping for air, her heart like a trapped bird in her ribcage.

“You have until the blood moon,” Ranon said, though Zylah didn’t know if it was to her or Raif. Aurelia and Ranon were already gone, leaving Zylah to clutch at her chest as she fought to steady her breathing, to calm her racing heart. Raif reached for her, but she recoiled from his touch, her back hitting the wall as she slid to the dirt.

They wanted to keep her there. To break her. But Zylah knew a thing or two about breaking. About letting herself splinter into pieces before she could be forged anew. Aurelia’s threats meant nothing to Zylah; Ranon’s demands were futile. Raif’s false declarations were nothing but poison, a way to keep her distracted. Because they were lying, all of them. They had to be.

Holt was alive.

Chapter Six

Raifhadofferedtoheal her but gave up after a while and left, leaving Zylah to wonder if he’d done it for her benefit. To give her space. It didn’t matter. Whoever she thought he’d been once, he’d played her for a fool.

She studied her hands, thinking about the tether between her and Holt. Considered whether he was in a vanquicite cell somewhere, kept alive only by the connection between them, her magic anchoring him to this life; willing it to be true.

Holt could do many things, but Zylah knew which of his capabilities Ranon needed. The same ability that had taken Marcus’s life. Holt could create a wave of power, like a blast. It was the only explanation for keeping him alive, keeping him in one of their cells. She only hoped he’d share some of her tolerance to it, but the surge of pain she’d felt before Raif had brought her back to her room told her otherwise. Holt was suffering.

The memory of the vanquicite sword slamming into his chest was so sharp in her mind it didn’t matter if she scrunched her eyes shut or opened them, it was all she could see. Had Raif known not to kill him? Had it all been part of Aurelia’s plan, to keep Holt alive and use his magic? Zylah hated that she needed it to be true.

She unwound the filthy scrap of fabric from her hand, inspecting the wound. Only a small scrape, clotted over now, mercifully. She recalled how Raif had licked her blood, holding back a shiver that was part fear and part disgust.

Holt had told her once about Raif’s abilities, said he’d never tried to do what Raif could because that kind of magic took its toll.“It’s like a drug,”he’d said.“You want to feel the rush the more you use it.”Then he’d admitted his power made him understand how Raif had felt.

Zylah pressed a hand to her chest. What if Aurelia had pushed Raif to channel such dark magic? To corrupt him somehow? A bitter laugh escaped her. Even now, she was trying to find some reasoning for his behaviour, because it was easier to believe he’d been made into a monster than the alternative; that this was just who he was. But more than that, if it were true, if she was right in thinking Raif’s magic had been encouraged by Aurelia as part of her scheming to get her father back, it meant they needed Holt alive.

Trapped in a vanquicite cell, but alive. And she was going to free him. Somehow, she was going to get to him. Zylah knew she should have been afraid, but all she had left was anger. Her mate was trapped, tortured… how long had it been? She hated that she had no idea how many days had passed, and she considered the Seraphim, trapped alone for so long, her thoughts cut short by Raif’s approaching footsteps at the edge of the wards.

He wore fresh clothes: a dark blue shirt and black trousers, his short hair wet. It was still strange to see; coupled with his black eyes, it marked him as something totally foreign to her. A stranger.

Raif lowered the bag from his shoulder onto her bed. “A change of clothes for you. And some food.”

The other vampire, Zylah presumed. Aurelia didn’t strike her as the type to lend out clothes. But a vampire that had taught Raif their blood could heal? If only it could regrow wings, so that Arioch might feel the joy of flight after so long without them. She didn’t know for certain vampire blood couldn’t do such things, but she wasn’t about to risk revealing Arioch to Raif if he didn’t already know of the Seraphim’s existence.

Zylah didn’t thank Raif for the food, even as she tore apart the bread he’d brought her. Her thoughts lingered on the Seraphim as Raif righted the chairs Zylah had left where they’d fallen, watched as he pushed them all back against the far wall before taking a seat.

Arioch had all but admitted he’d tried to take his own life. How many times had he tried and failed? How many different ways? How many years had passed before the desperation set in? All Zylah knew was that she’d do anything—anythingto get to Holt. To free him.

But what grand attempts could Arioch have made in this maze? From what Zylah had seen, it was half cave network, half root system, somewhere underground, perhaps. Out there, in the world beyond, people died every day. And often of small, irrelevant things.

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