Page 87 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

“When we met, I’d spent my whole life believing I was human. And then I evanesced from the gallows, and you told me I was like you.” She tipped her chin, angling her face up to his, thinking of the day they’d first met. Of how she’d thought him a god. Of how familiar he’d felt, even then.

“I thought you were half Fae,” he murmured, studying her face with that quiet reverence he always offered her, his face inches away from hers.

Zylah braced herself for the echo of his pain, but none came. Her thumb brushed over Holt’s shirt above his scar, as if she might erase it from his skin, undo every terrible thing that had happened to him. But then they might never have met. Never have found each other in all the ways that mattered.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat, willing her emotions not to pour from her and realising she was probably failing miserably. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve been so many different versions of myself,” she admitted, thinking back to his words in the maze. “Something tells me every version of you has been incredible.”They hadn’t felt incredible. Her brow pinched as she thought of how he’d stood by her through all of it, even when she’d been at her worst. Her lowest. “Sometimes it’s difficult to align them all,” she whispered. “Like my vision.”

Holt’s hands cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Something tells me I have loved every version of you,” he confessed against her lips. And then he was kissing her, tongue parting the seam of her lips to meet hers.

Her hands found their way to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into his hair, so much love and emotion pouring from her that she had no fucking hope of shutting it out. Holt made a sound deep in his chest, one hand slipping to the back of her head as he deepened their kiss.

Books fell off the shelf beside them, ancient tomes clattering to the floor as the kiss turned into something wild and frenzied, obliterating Zylah so wholly she felt the earth shake beneath her.

Then the bookcase began shaking, too, and they pulled back, breaths ragged as the stack opposite crashed to the floor. Holt pulled Zylah aside, evanescing to the entrance of the library before it could all come collapsing down around them.

“Serrula,” Zylah gasped, rounding the main desk and dragging a bewildered Fae from her chair. “The court is under attack,” she said, and then they were evanescing, Holt following her as they reappeared at the far end of the court where Rin and Kej had been hiding the humans.

“There are humans here,” she told the librarian. “Stay with them, keep them hidden.”

The old Fae didn’t argue, and Zylah and Holt didn’t wait for her questions. This time Zylah followed the echo of Holt’s evanescing through the court, reappearing beside him on the balcony where they’d celebrated Jorah’s life.

Guards and members of the court fought vampires and thralls, Malok in the midst of them all. The deceits covering his scars were long forgotten, his sword slicked with blood. The High Lord’s attention snagged on them both, eyes widening in something that could have just as easily been ire as relief. So much for their sneaking in and out undetected.

Zylah summoned her sword to her hand just as Holt did, both of them exchanging a look that said more than words could. There was no holding back on their bond now, every feeling she had for him tumbling from her so quickly she had no hope of stopping it. She braced herself for his pain, but he pressed a hand against the scar over his heart, understanding settling over his features.

A group of thralls charged. Holt and Zylah moved together like they had outside Mae’s court, swords swinging, their bodies spinning around each other as if they were merely dancing and not at the heart of so much brutality.

So many Fae lay dead at their feet. So many lifeless thralls. They needed to target the vampires, but there were far too many Fae for Holt to use his magic; he wouldn’t risk harming them.

Four vampires fought. One with the same preternatural speed Jesper had possessed, two wielded swords, and one controlled a crackling magic far too similar to Marcus’s for Zylah’s liking. The latter attacked the High Lord as if she knew the Fae’s history and the precise details of how he’d received his scars, her sparks of magic taunting him.

There were too many of them in close proximity, too little space to fight. Another thrall lunged for Zylah and she pivoted, her sword swinging out in a wide arc to slice into the creature’s back. Magic crackled again and the female vampire pushed Malok towards the edge of the balcony, perilously close to the edge of the great drop into the ocean below.

But Zylah had her own assailant to worry about. The thrall screamed, swiping with decaying fingers wrapped around a dagger, the blade barely missing her in her moment of distraction. Then a sword appeared through the creature’s stomach and it fell to its knees. Holt. Zylah used the moment of cover to wrap her threads around the vampire’s bolts of magic, gasping at the heat of them as she willed her threads to pull.

The female’s empty eyes met hers across the balcony, lips curling into a snarl as she turned to Zylah. Two more flanked the vampire, but Zylah wasn’t interested in waiting for them to come to her. She evanesced to Malok’s side, fingers wrapping tightly around his wrist as she yanked him through the aether, away from the deadly descent into the crashing waves.

He raised his sword the moment they reappeared, cutting down a charging thrall. Malok offered her a dip of his chin, and then they turned their attention to the three vampires.

“Leave her to me,” Zylah told him, threads pulling at another of the vampire’s strikes, the magic bursting white hot and bright between them. This time Zylah heaved at the strands and the vampire staggered forwards a step, eyes wide as she drew her sword, swiping her free hand up the blade, the metal coming alight at her touch.

“Fuck,” Zylah breathed. She moved before the female did, roots and vines bursting up through the rock to slow the two vampires with blades, praying she wasn’t using too much magic and that Holt wouldn’t be affected. Strands of power spiralled around the lightning bolt sword, their magic spitting and hissing against each other, but the female evaded her assault.

The vampire screamed. The weapon connected with Zylah’s threads, setting them alight at its touch and burning bright in every direction. Every direction; each of them beginning withinher.

Zylah’s insides were on fire. A choked cough broke from her chest, smoke billowing from her mouth and coating her tongue with the taste of ash. But the vampire only laughed as she brought her sword down; Zylah barely managed to parry the blow.

Holt moved to her side, and with Malok at the other, the three of them advanced on the vampires together, Holt and Zylah using bursts of magic, of evanescing, of whatever they had at their disposal. Beyond them, the fourth vampire still commanded a group of thralls, backing a group of Fae guards against the balcony wall, shattered and crumbling from one of the earlier explosions.

Dread coiled in Zylah’s stomach. This wouldn’t end well.

The High Lord broke away to aid his soldiers, the three vampires closing in on Zylah and Holt. All she could taste was ash, but Holt’s presence steadied her, bolstered her failing strength.

The female’s blade sizzled and crackled with magic, a knowing smile curling her lips. Zylah moved. She evanesced, sending shadows spiralling around all three vampires at the same time, threads tearing at the female’s sword to pull the lightning into her own. Pain and ecstasy skittered over her skin, and Zylah had to grit her teeth against it.

Holt followed her path through the aether. He made short work of the two males wielding swords, using their distraction with the shadows to his advantage. But there was no time to let her heart soar at the way he trailed her, the way he could predict her moves just as she made them.

The female swung for her, their swords connecting and the magic rattling through Zylah’s hands and into her bones, her flesh burning at the force of it. She groaned as the magic flared through her body, another breath of smoke escaping her mouth.

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