28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I t was her magic that had pulled her under, and so it was no surprise to Zylah that it was her magic that woke her. The familiar feel of the camp on the outskirts of Kerthen, the soldiers, the wards, the forest… the threads of Zylah’s magic spread before she was fully conscious, a signature beside her she recognised now as Rin’s.

“You feel different to your brother,” Zylah murmured groggily.

“Imala’s tits, Zy, I should hope so, too. Though I’ve no idea what that means.” Rin’s cool hand pressed against Zylah’s forehead, another on her arm, helping her to sit up.

Zylah took stock of her situation. Her eyes were bound, but her other sight had returned to her, Rin’s brow pinched as she swept her gaze over Zylah’s face.

“My family owes you a debt. Again.” The words were sharp but kind, and Zylah knew it was because they’d been close. Too close.

“Nye?”

“Fully recovered. Thanks to you.”

That was something, at least.

“By the time the others reached you, you were both stable enough to be brought here. Nye’s already back on duty.”

Zylah huffed a quiet laugh. “Of course she is.” She swung her feet out of the cot, raising a hand in protest when Rin tried to stop her. Too much time had been wasted on recovering. She gave herself a moment to take in the details of the sparse tent: a few cots pushed up against the canvas walls, a small wooden table, a scattering of chairs. Nye’s soldiers always travelled light. “The prisoners?”

Rin poured water from a pitcher before handing over a cup, chewing at her lip. “They didn’t make it. Most of Arlan’s party died, too. Fae and Black Veil.”

A silent gasp escaped Zylah. “It was a trap.” One they should have seen coming. And perhaps Nye and Arlan had. Perhaps they’d wanted to observe the city for themselves, to understand what they were up against. But Zylah couldn’t decide whether it was foolish or brilliant for both of them to have accompanied their soldiers, to put themselves at risk.

“We think so,” Rin said gently. “Your tactic of picking off the vampires was very effective, but Nye won’t risk more scouts until the Iyofari riders arrive.”

“I find it hard to believe Arlan’s army doesn’t have any soldiers with the ability to evanesce.” In truth, Zylah wasn’t certain what to make of Arlan at all. Not yet. Not if Rin’s disparate reactions to him were anything to go by.

“He does.” Rin swiped a hand at a few breadcrumbs on the table, stalling. “But an attack of this scale needs to be coordinated. You saw for yourself what happens when we move too quickly. And you should have told us they were using Holt as a weapon.” Rin’s words were those of a general’s cousin. A High Lord’s daughter. A betrothed female. Not her own, Zylah suspected. Though they were true. A knot had formed in her chest: all the different worries layered over each other into a jumbled mess, but the biggest of all was her concern for Holt’s wellbeing.

She sighed into her cup, wondering whether Nye had told Arlan about Holt. Or perhaps he had offered up his own explanation. Either way, neither Arlan nor Nye would risk their soldiers beside Holt again, that much Zylah knew. “It wasn’t my story to tell,” was all she said to her friend. The truth. Because Holt was hers, and she was his, whether he knew it or not, and she would never take anything away from him, never betray his trust.

Rin studied her face for a moment and Zylah braced herself for an onslaught of questions, but the Fae seemed satisfied with her answer. “I’ll get the others.”

“They’re already on their way,” Zylah said. Holt amongst them. Zylah swallowed. Moved herself to the table and took a seat as the sound of Kej arguing with his cousin carried through the canvas.

“ Fine . You can check if you’re so concerned about her honour, but I’m sure she’d rather see my face first when she wakes up. Who wouldn’t?”

Zylah smiled at Kej’s antics, letting it loosen the knot in her chest just a little. “I’m awake; you can all come in.”

“Wipe that smug grin off your face, cousin, or I’ll have you sleeping with the soldiers tonight,” Nye said from behind Kej as he burst into the tent.

“Again, not a punishment.” His grin was wide as he took in Zylah at the table. “There she is.”

Nye’s two commanders followed the general, Arlan and his second in command tailing them. Okwata and Ahrek arrived next, followed by Daizin, and finally, Holt. He hadn’t rejected their bond… yet. Zylah willed her expression to remain neutral as his gaze swept over her, as his face softened for a heartbeat before settling back to what she once might have considered his look of indifference, but now knew better. It was worry, so thick it was palpable.

“Twice you saved my life yesterday. Thank you,” Nye said to Zylah quietly, dragging her attention away from Holt.

Zylah squeezed her friend’s hand but said nothing more of it, grateful that there would be no more talk of debts owed. If Holt had been in her position, he’d have done the same. Or rather, the Holt they’d all known before his imprisonment. Though something told her no matter how much this had changed him, no matter how difficult his incarceration had been, he’d have tried to save Nye’s life, too.

“Where’s my brother?” she asked as some of the others took a seat at the table beside her.

“Checking on his wounded.” There was a hint of something in Nye’s tone, admiration maybe, but she rarely gave much away. Pride swelled in Zylah’s chest that her brother had earned the respect of her friends so quickly, that they regarded him as their equal. And it was another step in the right direction for humans and Fae cohabiting when all of this was over, for the Fae to step out of the shadows and stop hiding. To finally know what it meant to be free.

“We weren’t going to disturb you, Zylah,” Arlan began, pulling her from her thoughts, “but as you might be the only one of us that can get close to the vanquicite, we need your help.”

She wasn’t immune. And getting near the material certainly wasn’t without consequences. But Zylah understood the advantage it gave them.

“We need a way to counter the vanquicite or we’ll be sending soldiers into a slaughter,” Arlan added.

“We’re working on that.” Okwata tapped a hand against the table. “Ranon and Aurelia are unaffected, so a method exists.” Holt must have told them that much. “The acquisition of the archers in possession of arrenium, you believe it might work against the vampires?”

“It’s an untested theory,” Holt replied. “The source of the metal is a well-guarded secret.”

One of Maelissa’s secrets, no doubt. Zylah bit her tongue to stop herself from speaking out of turn, protectiveness surging through her. The Fae had used Holt for years, and the last time they’d been in her court, she’d raised a hand to Zylah. That hadn’t ended so well for the High Lady, thanks to Holt, but the thought of the female so much as breathing in Holt’s direction had Zylah’s stomach churning, anger rising in her chest. “I’ll speak with Maelissa,” she managed.

Holt’s head tipped to one side. “You know her?”

They’d visited her court together. Met Okwata and Ahrek there, together . But Zylah didn’t say any of that, didn’t want to draw attention to how much of his memory he was missing in the presence of the others. “I do,” was all she allowed herself to say.

He didn’t shift his attention away from her, and Zylah wondered if he was trying, again, to piece together everything Aurelia had taken from him. Don’t , she wanted to tell him. But if she could earn his trust, perhaps he would consider allowing her to attempt to unravel whatever had been done to his mind. To let her help piece it back together. The knot in her chest seemed to pull tighter again at the thought.

“We’ll need to get hold of one of those bows first, test the arrenium against a vampire before sending you away.” Arlan’s gaze flicked between Holt and Zylah, and she wondered how much he knew.

“Kej and I can arrange that,” Daizin said. “The archers were stationed outside the palace. Picking one off should be easy enough.”

Kej nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll need a scout.”

Zylah listened quietly as they discussed their options. It was a risk for any of them to return to the city, but if the arrenium was the key to taking down the vampires, it was worth it.

“What about the blood moon?” she asked when the conversation wound down. The blood moon was just over a month away, and if Ranon intended to use it to create more of his monsters, both humans and Fae would be powerless to stop him. Ranon and Aurelia were a threat to the entire continent.

“We still don’t know. But the Seraphim might,” Ahrek said at Okwata’s side.

Zylah had made a promise to Arioch, and she intended to keep it. That didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid. “I’ll go. And when I return, I’ll go to Maelissa. If you can spare a scout.” The last part she said to Nye.

The general merely dipped her chin. “Enalla’s fully recovered. She’ll go with you.”

“How does it work, Zy?” Kej asked, “Can you still see through deceits?” How does any of it work?”

Her sight, she assumed. “Do you mean can I see the way you’re fondling the neck of that wine bottle?” Quiet chuckles layered over each other around the table, and Kej raised the bottle in a toast before taking a swig. Zylah was careful not to turn her attention to Ahrek when she spoke. “But to answer your question, yes, I can still see through deceits. I can…” She glanced at Nye and Daizin, at the way their shadows pooled, and then beyond the tent to where the soldiers were, to the wards. “I can feel more than see in the conventional sense. But it all pulls together to paint a vivid picture for me.” She paused, unsure of how much she should tell them before settling on the truth. “At the mine attack, before…” Zylah couldn’t help but look at Holt, the memory of the sword going through his chest rising through her and threatening to take hold. “I discovered I can pull apart pieces of magic, snag a particular thread.”

“The compulsion…” Kej murmured, and Daizin shot him a warning glare.

Zylah nodded, hands splayed on the table to force her attention away from Holt. “It’s those threads that help me to see now, like everything is a tapestry and I just have to follow a particular thread.”

Okwata leaned forwards in his chair. “You can unravel it. But can you piece it back together?”

“With enough practice… I think so.”

“Remarkable.” His smile was genuine as he leaned back, sharing a look with Ahrek beside him.

“Can someone explain to me what that last little part meant?” Kej waggled a finger between Zylah and Okwata, the rest of his hand still firmly around the neck of the bottle.

“Stay off the wine and you might be able to keep up,” Daizin told him, prizing Kej’s fingers from the bottle and placing it on the table.

“Zylah might be able to… dismantle certain magic and create new magic in its place,” Rin said, her attention fixed on Zylah.

Again, Zylah nodded, giving them all time to understand the implications. She’d had little opportunity to test it because of her connection to Holt, for fear of hurting him again, but for their protection against the vanquicite, the implications were… too good for her to believe it could be possible.

“You were still affected by the vanquicite, so maybe we can test this when you get back, Zylah? Strengthen your new skills,” Nye suggested, in a tone that was no doubt usually reserved for her soldiers. But Zylah knew practise would be the only way to figure out the limitations of her new magic, so she agreed.

A plan took shape, beginning with Kej and Daizin’s mission to steal a bow from one of the archers standing guard outside the palace. Zylah hated all the waiting, but at least she was doing something worthwhile, at least she wasn’t sat idle counting the minutes until the Iyofari riders arrived.

One by one, everyone left the tent, until only Ahrek and Okwata remained. Ahrek manoeuvred Okwata’s chair with precise movements, pausing when Okwata patted a hand over his.

“Bring back some venom if you can, Zylah.” Okwata gestured to her eyes, as if she’d forgotten his kind offer, as if it hadn’t been at the forefront of her thoughts every moment since. Another pat of his hand over Ahrek’s, and they left the tent without another word, leaving Zylah to her thoughts and the ever-tightening knot in her chest.