2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

T hree days passed, and there was no sign of Raif. Zylah was strong enough to properly bathe, though she’d almost fallen getting out of the bathtub. She didn’t let that part of herself that had whispered dark thoughts so often in the past leak through; only told herself that she would get better. That she would get out.

Though she could still barely walk, she pulled and heaved on that place within her that her magic had once resided, the place that allowed her to slip into the aether and evanesce from location to location, but nothing happened. She tried to call things to her, too, small things like a blanket from Holt’s room back at the tavern in Virian; her sword, though she didn’t know where it had fallen, but nothing appeared.

She was hollow. Empty of her magic. Empty of Holt’s presence.

I’ll find you. It was a promise she made to herself on repeat. To him, wherever his body was, she would see it properly prepared. She would—Zylah bit back a sob as her plate fell from her hands and shattered at her feet. The sprites would have him. Would have taken care of him for her. Preserved his body so she could see him one more time. Zylah had to believe it.

She reached for the broken plate, sliding a fractured sliver of stoneware into the sleeve of her tunic as Kopi hooed softly. Zylah barely had a moment to stand before Raif’s mother evanesced into the room before her, a sheen of sweat on the Fae’s brow.

Zylah swallowed. “Come to finish what you started?” She’d wondered how long it would be before Aurelia sought revenge for her mate’s death.

The Fae’s eyes narrowed to chips of ice before she slapped Zylah hard across the face, the sound sending Kopi fluttering from his place on the bed. Zylah reached a hand out to steady herself, the other grazing the shard she’d slipped up her sleeve. Aurelia’s touch could be paralysing if the Fae willed it, but Zylah would go down fighting, no matter how weak she’d become.

Sleek black hair framed the female’s face, falling over her chest in soft waves where it rested against her black gown. She’d always been pale, but now her skin was ashen. Zylah had had countless hours to catalogue the Fae’s magic. Like the way she’d held them in a bubble of her magic. The way she’d commanded Holt to stop. The way her magic had released like a web over them both, snuffing out the connection they shared.

Jesper had learnt compulsion from Aurelia, but Zylah would never forget the way Holt had knelt before her, eyes glazed and unseeing, the way the Fae had offered him two choices: kill their friends or let her in.

Raif’s mother pressed her lips together and wiped a hand against her brow as if some sickness had fallen over her. “You think you know suffering. We’ve only just begun here, Zylah. When I’m done with you, there will be nothing left.”

Zylah lunged, aiming for the Fae’s throat with her makeshift dagger. But Aurelia’s wrist fell over hers too quickly, magic skittering over her skin where they touched. The shard tumbled from Zylah’s fingertips as she lost control of her body at the onslaught of so much power, her body too weak to fight it.

Fight , a tired part of her whispered.

Her hands reached out, the breath leaving her lungs at the impact as the ground rose up to meet her. Something cracked. Her wrist, maybe, but Zylah used her other hand to twist around, to scoot herself back in the dirt.

Aurelia’s chest heaved, the shard of pottery in her fingertips as she glared down at Zylah. Her magic was weak. The last time Zylah had felt the Fae’s paralysing touch, it had taken hold of her entirely, rendered her useless.

The back of Aurelia’s hand came down across Zylah’s face and she fell onto her injured wrist, black spots shooting across her eyes and a cry escaping her. She heard Kopi’s piercing shriek, heard Aurelia’s scream as the little owl tried to attack.

“No!” Zylah pleaded, pushing herself upright just as Aurelia slashed at Kopi with the piece of stoneware. “Kopi, get out of here!”

He swooped over their heads, claws catching Aurelia’s arm before flying through the open doorway out of sight. Zylah sucked in a breath, pushing to her feet and stumbling halfway to her knees. “I will gut you with my bare hands for everything you did to Holt.” She shook with rage, with pain, with frustration at how weak her body had become.

Aurelia merely chuckled and smoothed her tousled hair with shaking hands. Blood ran down her fingertips and over the stoneware, her cold blue eyes tracking the movement. “He got off lightly, all things considered.” She glanced around the room, the corner of her lip raised in a disapproving sneer before turning her attention back to Zylah, to the way she clutched her broken wrist against herself. “But we make do with what we’ve got.”

The Fae slashed faster than Zylah could blink, the shard slicing into her face, the force of the blow sending her to the dirt. Aurelia slammed a foot down on Zylah’s broken wrist, twisting her booted heel until more bones crunched, Zylah’s cries covering the sound. Stars swam in her vision, the urge to empty her guts all over Aurelia’s boots edging closer to necessity.

“Call Pallia here,” the Fae demanded, leaning close to run a hand over Zylah’s blonde hair as if she were comforting a child.

Zylah swallowed back the bile in her throat, tears streaming down her face, mingling with the warm blood dripping into her mouth. She could barely see out of her left eye, from swelling or blood, or maybe Aurelia had cut it, she couldn’t tell. Her broken sobs turned to a broken laugh, and she spat blood into the dirt, glared into Aurelia’s eyes, and with her good hand, fisted it into the bitch’s hair, slamming her forehead into the Fae’s as hard as she could.

“Fuck you,” Zylah hissed as blood poured from her nose. She’d been too low for a decent headbutt, but seeing Aurelia stumble, blood smearing her face, had been more than worth it. Zylah lunged for the sliver of pottery, running on nothing but rage and adrenaline as Aurelia’s fingers clamped around her wrist once more, magic zapping into her.

“Call her here. Now,” Aurelia seethed.

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Zylah tried to laugh but choked on her own blood instead, her back bowing against the pain. “I’m already dead.” Despite Aurelia’s efforts, Zylah could still move, but barely. “You’re weak,” she spluttered, her eyes raking over the Fae’s dishevelled form.

“Your blood was supposed to restore him.” Aurelia dragged the shard down Zylah’s arm, tearing open her sweater and cutting into her flesh. Zylah clenched her jaw shut, a scream lodging in her throat as the female’s eyes flicked up to hers. “Call her.”

Zylah ignored the second part. She had no idea how to call Pallia to her; knew only that if Pallia wanted to, she would come. Ranon had been released, but if he wasn’t fully restored, as Aurelia had put it—“So he’s been using your blood instead?” A half grunt, half groan escaped her. “No wonder you did what you have to Raif. You’re all as bad as each other.”

“I’m still the one with power here. And the priestesses… they fight for me now.”

But Zylah knew the Fae was wrong. Knew who the priestesses truly fought for. She had no strength to move, even as Aurelia trailed the shard back up her arm, catching it into the broken skin and dragging it along her collarbone as if she were caressing a lover.

Zylah’s breath caught, but she refused to give Aurelia the satisfaction of her screams, no matter how much she wanted to. “I know where your mother is,” she gasped, her sweater soaking with warm blood.

Aurelia stilled. “My mother is long gone from this world; you cannot distract me.” A tentative press of the stoneware. “Call. Pallia. Here.”

A ragged whimper broke free from Zylah’s lips as Aurelia pressed the shard into the soft flesh above her clavicle. Pallia didn’t come.

“My family might do terrible things,” Aurelia began, plunging the shard in deeper, and this time Zylah screamed. “But we will do anything for each other, no matter the cost.”

Zylah tried to speak, but blood sputtered from her mouth, her adrenaline and whatever strength she’d managed to find long gone. Pallia wasn’t coming, and as Zylah’s chest heaved, she thought she might hate her grandmother for that, for leaving her to bleed out in the dirt.

“Pathetic,” Aurelia muttered, “Just like your mate.”

The Fae cried out and Zylah willed her one good eye to open, only to see Raif had tackled his mother to the dirt, those long canines extended as he hissed at her. “Get out of here before I tear your throat out.”

Aurelia stared at her son, her face blanching before she evanesced away, leaving his arms empty. Zylah’s eye fell shut, her chest rattling as she tried to breathe. Arms came around her, Raif’s mint and lemongrass scent mingling with the blood as she tried to shove him off.

“Drink, Zylah.” Raif held her tightly, his strength too great for her to fight him off.

She thrashed in his arms, pushed away the warmth he’d brought to her lips. “The fuck away,” she spat, her words cut short by whatever he was trying to do to her. But she’d lost so much blood. Could barely feel all the wounds that she knew peppered her body. Her shattered wrist.

“Please, just hold still.” Raif’s tone softened, his skin pressed to her mouth, warm, coppery-tanged liquid leaking between her lips.

Fight , she willed her broken body. But it was no use.

Just as Zylah’s grip began to falter, her head falling back against Raif’s chest, she could have sworn she felt a flare of something inside her, something achingly familiar.

But before the thought could fully form, darkness claimed her.