17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

I t was just like before when she’d followed his evanescing like an echo. Only now she could see them all, every shadow path he’d cut through the world, through the aether, like trails of light every way she turned.

It took everything Zylah had to ensure she finished healing Daizin, but the moment it was done, she rose to her feet, hands trembling.

“Zylah.” Kej was tugging at her sleeve, one hand at her shoulder. “You’re shaking. Sit down.”

“Look after Kopi,” she choked out, but Kej’s grip tightened.

“Zylah, please. You’re not making any sense. Just sit down.”

I’m here. I’ll find you , she told Holt, though she doubted he could hear her. Even at the edge of the lake, far from the centre of Virian, she could feel the vanquicite cage he sat within. Thick, gleaming bars looming over him, pressing in on all sides. Zylah raised a hand to her chest. “He’s in Virian, Kej. I have to go.” She’d brought them to the lake beside the demolished mine. To the edge of Kerthen and Nye’s camp. To their friends. And she couldn’t stay a moment longer.

Kej eased her down into the reeds. “You can’t go like this. You’re exhausted. You can’t fucking see. You’ve no idea what you’re walking into.”

All good points. But how could she explain it to him? How could she make him understand? It wasn’t just a need , it was as essential as breathing. Holt was so close, and he had endured so much, she wasn’t sure how he was still alive. All she knew for certain was that she was going to find him and get him out of there.

Daizin swore beside them, his shadows testing the wound Zylah had healed. “Thank you,” he told her, resting a hand on her arm.

Zylah nodded. “Go find your sister, Kej. I’ll wait here with Daizin.”

“Leave him out here alone, and you and I are going to have words.” Her friend’s tone was teasing, but Zylah didn’t doubt the truth in them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised him. “Go.”

Wind blew across the lake, stirring a few loose strands of her hair, the quiet susurrus of reeds the only sound other than her and Daizin’s breathing. With her new magic she looked across the water, the mine at its shore, and beyond it, Virian.

I’ll be there soon, just hold on , she told Holt. She shoved aside the panic that crept through her at the answering silence, unwilling to accept any other reasoning. She’d felt his pain. Felt him . He was alive, in a cell. She was certain of it.

Kopi called out from within the forest behind them. Not an alert, just his quiet way of letting her know he was near. That she wasn’t alone, just like he had on so many nights when they’d fled Virian.

Holt had been with her then, even when she hadn’t known it. Hadn’t understood the feeling that lingered beneath the grief and the guilt. She wouldn’t let the maze drive her crazy, but this guessing, this uncertainty over Holt when she was so close to Virian might just be the thing that pushed her over the edge. So close and she was too weak to be of any use to him.

Daizin pushed to his elbows but Zylah pressed a hand to his chest to stop him. “You lost a lot of blood; I don’t want to be the one to explain to Kej you passed out when he gets back. Besides, I’m a little too tired for a fight with a wildcat.” She willed her hand not to shake as she said it, fatigue clawing at every limb.

The Fae loosed a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “He does get whiny when he’s angry, doesn’t he?”

She could make out the outline of his smile now, the dark brown of his eyes. Her magic was growing. But Kej was right, she was exhausted, and she didn’t have it in her to return his smile.

“But he’s right, Zylah. You need to rest first. We all do. Then we’ll go with clear heads and bring him back.”

He meant well. But none of them could go where she could. Not if the palace contained as much vanquicite as she suspected. But she didn’t voice her thoughts, only looked out across the water as she felt their friends approach from within the forest.

“Imala must have been watching the three of you,” Rin said breathlessly when she reached them.

“Not Imala. Zylah.” Kej was already at Daizin’s side, a hand at the Fae’s back. Between him and his sister, they helped Daizin to his feet, ignoring the Fae’s attempts to push them away. He truly had lost a lot of blood, and though he would be fine, he needed to rest.

Zylah called her spear to her hand to follow, lost in the memory of the last time she’d stood in this spot.

“Whatever happens today…” Holt had told her.

“We’ll find each other. At the end of it,” she’d assured him.

And whatever happened, Zylah intended to keep her promise.

Rin and Kej spoke quietly as they guided Daizin through the trees. Kerthen felt different now, less daunting with her new magic. She let it spread out ahead of them as her friends led the way, let it pass through the wards to the camp, finding the exact thread she’d need to pull them apart if she wanted, no need to search and examine as she had before.

Though there were things that were familiar: the scent of damp soil and rotten leaves underfoot, a strange vibration in the air, this time, she could feel soldiers around their fires, on their bedrolls, could recognise Nye’s shadow signature so similar to Daizin’s.

But her friends were right. She had pushed herself earlier. Fighting, evanescing, healing, casting the net of her new magic too far even now. No matter how much Holt needed her, she was no good to him like this, fighting to hide the tremble of exhaustion in her steps, ignoring her pounding headache. Zylah pulled back on her magic, leaving just enough to piece together the night around her. She followed her friends to a tent, Nye’s shadows flickering out from underneath it as they entered, accompanied by two signatures she thought she recognised.

“Thank you,” Nye told her, a hand at her elbow. Zylah studied her friend now that her magic was stronger. Still in uniform at such a late hour, the sheath across Nye’s chest was heavy with knives, just as it had been the first time they’d met, only now she wore her black hair braided tightly to her head, the same gold rings she’d worn at the Aquaris Court adorning the braids. The Fae’s shadows licked around them, though Zylah knew only she could see them, and perhaps Daizin. She rested a hand over her friend’s in gratitude before turning to Nye’s guests.

It was the two acquaintances Zylah had made back in Maelissa’s court, Okwata, and, Zylah sucked in a breath. Ahrek’s deceits were totally stripped away by her magic, revealing his true form. He stood on two feet, a man, for the most part, save for his feline features: pointed ears, whiskered face, short, blond fur in place of skin, and that tail she’d caught glimpses of in the past.

Not Lesser Fae. Something else. Though she had no idea what, or from where. Zylah had her suspicions, but she held her tongue. If Ahrek wished to hide what he was with deceits, she would not be the one to expose him to her friends. And though she was content for them to witness her new magic, she saw no use in telling them she could see through deceits entirely now. Some secrets ought to remain that way.

“It’s good to meet you again, Zylah,” Okwata said from his wheelchair, no hesitation in his voice at the cloth over her eyes. “I’m sure you’re wondering what we’re doing here.”

Mae’s archers, Zylah presumed. They were the reason she and Holt had visited Maelissa’s court, for the archers renowned for their arrenium bows and arrows, an asset to any army. And a much-needed advantage when taking out a legion of vampires and thralls.

“Maelissa sent her general to lead their archers here two months ago, but they’ve gone missing,” Nye explained.

“Missing,” Zylah echoed. There was every possibility Maelissa had been working with Aurelia all along. And Thallan, Rose’s rejected mate, had the ability to read minds; if he was working with Aurelia too, there was no telling what information he’d delivered.

Okwata moved his chair aside, clearing a space. “Please, sit,” he said before pressing a cup into her hands. Water. “We’re here as neutral emissaries. My speciality is science, and I think I can be of some help.”

Zylah drank the water slowly, hoping it might ease the ache that had bloomed over her temples. She couldn’t stay. Couldn’t get up, most likely, if she were to try.

“Okwata was particularly interested in the techniques we used during the mine attack,” Nye added when Zylah said nothing. “We’ve been developing weapons whilst we wait for the others to arrive.”

Zylah listened to Okwata and Nye’s back and forth, but the words washed over her. She didn’t know how they could all be so calm, so put together. Every second felt like hours, time she could have been using to reach Holt.

A few others joined them: Arlan and his second in command, Nye’s commanders, discussing their plans for the next few days. Days . They had no intention of moving in on Virian until a few other allies they’d secured joined them. And then they intended to attack the palace, using the tunnels to get in undetected.

Another handful of days Holt might not have. But Zylah understood. They couldn’t risk their plans just for him; there were likely more Fae trapped alongside him. And the simple fact remained: none of them could get near the vanquicite cells.

She listened in silence to the conversation, to the soft sound of Daizin’s quiet breathing on a bedroll behind them, Kej never far from his side. He and Rin participated in the discussions now and then, always deferring to their cousin. Their general. Arlan and Nye seemed to approach the task as a unified front, for now, their commanders answering questions here and there.

Without Maelissa’s archers, they were at a disadvantage, but Cirelle’s Iyofari riders had the benefit of aerial surveillance and attacks, and as far as they knew, Ranon’s only winged forces were the grimms. Brash, sloppy fighters, but brutal, nonetheless.

They seemed hopeful about their numbers, their chances against Ranon’s forces. But Zylah couldn’t share their enthusiasm. Not just because of Holt’s predicament, but because she’d experienced Ranon and Aurelia firsthand. Even weakened as they both were, they had an army of vicious monsters at their command, savage and ferocious and cruel, capable of cutting through anything in their path. Anyone.

After a while, Arlan and his second left, Nye’s commanders following soon after. Deyna arrived to check on Zylah’s eyes, though Zylah knew what the prognosis would be.

“It’s different to the vanquicite,” the witch explained as she replaced the cloth over Zylah’s eyes with a fresh one. “Pulling that from your blood, believe it or not, was less complicated than this. Not only did it have a heavier signature for me to latch onto, but you had a lot of help.”

Holt. Zylah had Holt, tethering her to this life, to him.

“How did this happen?” Okwata asked.

“A spider,” Zylah explained, the words flat, the complete opposite of everything she felt inside.

Kej scoffed, silver-grey eyes darting over her face. “We need to work on your storytelling skills, Zy. It was a fucking terrifying giant spider with the upper body of a woman and clawed fingertips oozing venom.” He’d finished off a bottle of wine a short while before, and it only fuelled his enthusiasm for theatrics.

“I may be able to help, but I’ll need the venom,” Okwata said simply, as if he heard tales of such creatures every day.

Deyna hummed. “He’s right. Now that you can evanesce there.”

Zylah could evanesce now. And she was grateful, so grateful that they wanted to help her. But the thought of returning to Ranon’s maze, to Rhaznia, had the words lodged in her throat.

“When were you planning on telling me about your other sight?” Deyna asked.

Her ocean eyes searched Zylah’s face. It was still strange, this new perspective of the world, like she was viewing it through a layer of the finest, darkest silk, or a smoky piece of glass, little bits of grain covering everything. What was there to explain? How the edges of everything still seemed to blur into one, or how she could feel more than she could see? How, no matter how much more she could see now, she’d still give anything to have her eyesight restored?

“This is not Fae magic,” the witch told her.

Zylah took the tin of balm from her open hand. “I know.” She caught Deyna’s glance at Okwata and Ahrek, a look of uncertainty falling over her.

“It’s fine,” Zylah said. “I have nothing to hide from them.”

“I think you may have inherited some of your grandmother’s abilities.”

Because Pallia was both witch and Fae, just like her sister. Zylah had suspected as much, but her head was pounding, and though she hated to concede, she truly did need to rest, and right then, she was content to sleep where she sat.

It was Ahrek who offered the respite she so sorely needed. “You’ve all had a long day; we’ll leave you to rest.”

And it was only then that Zylah realised the tent belonged to Nye, the additional bedrolls already set out for her cousins and Daizin, for her.

“We’re a little short on tents,” Nye explained as Deyna and the others left. Rin had slipped out with them, though no one commented on the fact.

It took Zylah more effort than she wanted to admit to get herself to a bedroll, Kej settling onto the one beside Daizin, Nye nearest the door.

“Zylah?” Nye said. “We’ll be there in four days.”

“Mhmmm.” A reminder or a request, Zylah wasn’t certain which. She suspected Nye already knew her intentions, was prepared for the empty bedroll she’d find come morning.

Zylah’s heart was racing, but she reminded herself over and over that she needed her strength for what came next. And though she’d tried to ignore it, the lingering silence from Holt chilled her blood. But she couldn’t dwell on it. Not now, not when she was so close.

I’ll find you , she promised him as she settled down to sleep.