42. Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Two

T he sound of Zylah’s stomach unceremoniously gurgling and announcing her hunger woke her, followed by Holt’s rumbling chuckle against her cheek where it pressed against his chest. His thumb stroked her thigh where she’d draped it over him in the night, his other hand splayed across her back.

Zylah peeked up at him, the shadows in her eyes blotting out everything but his beautiful face. “Hi,” she whispered, part of her wondering if this was all a dream.

He pulled her up his body to kiss her, the thick, hard length of him hot and heavy between them. “Hi.” Another kiss, every cell in Zylah’s body coming awake at his touch. “It feels like we’ve done this before,” he murmured, his eyes sweeping over her face.

“We have,” Zylah said against his mouth, desire flushing her cheeks, her chest. And then her stomach growled again, even louder than the first time.

Holt huffed a laugh against her lips, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he sat up with her in his arms and rose from the bed, her body sliding against his as their feet touched the floor. “We skipped a meal yesterday. Let’s get you something decent to eat.”

Zylah bit back a retort, her heart swelling at the way he always put her needs first. They dressed in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other as they slipped on their clothes. She began to braid her hair but Holt’s hands settled over hers, deftly plaiting it in her place and sliding the leather fastening from her fingertips to secure it when he was done.

They hadn’t talked about his sister since Zylah had found him in the cell. How it was her death that set him on the path he followed. “You can talk about her, if you want to,” she told him. “Adina. You can talk to me about anything.”

He rested her braid against her shoulder, offering her a sad, knowing smile. “Thank you.”

They made their way through the house towards the kitchen, the space emptier than Zylah had anticipated. Plants hung from almost every wall, some only growing under the glow of orblights. There was no sign of Dalana or Ellisar, none of the refugees Zylah knew they were housing.

“Where is everyone?” she asked as she took in the empty table, the chairs neatly pushed in around it. A pile of letters and drawings lay at one end, from the children, Zylah gathered, judging by the quality of the stick figures sprawled across them.

“Lana told me last night it’s become something of a tradition for them all to eat breakfast out in the court together.” Holt grabbed a basket of eggs from the counter, pulling out a chair for her as he made his way over to the stove. “But I thought you’d like some quiet. She said we could help ourselves to anything.”

“Are you keeping me to yourself?” Zylah rested an elbow on the table, her chin in her hand as she watched him break the eggs into a pan, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Guilty.” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes dancing with mischief. But the lightness quickly faded, his shoulders stiffening as he moved to fill the kettle. “I don’t know how much you know about my history with Mae.”

“Enough to know she used you when you were younger. That she took advantage of you for no reason other than she could.” Zylah didn’t attempt to rein in her anger. Even before she’d known what she and Holt were to each other, Zylah had wanted to see Mae suffer for the way she’d used Holt.

“What happened the last time we were here?” He set a cup of steaming tea in front of her; one inhale told her it was honey and alea blossom, just the way she liked it.

“She’d been spreading rumours about the two of you.” Zylah curled her fingers around the cup, considering her words as she sifted through her memories, her temper spiking. “And on our last day here, she lashed one of the members of her court.” Even now, she could feel the bounty hunter’s whip splitting her skin, the pain white hot and burning. “I stepped in to help, and when she raised her whip to me, you intervened. Reprimanded her for gossiping and brought her overinflated ego back to reality. It was quite the spectacle.”

Holt’s knuckles turned white as he set a plate of food in front of her. “Were you harmed?”

“No. I was fine.”

He loosed a breath, taking the seat opposite. Zylah didn’t feel like eating after the direction their conversation had taken but he’d gone to the effort of making it for her, and she knew her body needed it. A little more of the tension fell away from him as she tucked into her plate, Holt’s untouched before him.

He reached for his brin fruit, rolling it in his palm. “Sometimes I think I’m remembering,” he said quietly, inspecting the green fruit before his eyes darted up to meet Zylah’s. “Sitting opposite you, here.” He glanced around the kitchen. “What I felt when I looked at you.”

Zylah forced herself to swallow her mouthful of eggs. “What did you feel?”

A pinch of his brow, and he rested the brin fruit on the table. “Fear.” His throat bobbed. “That I couldn’t help you. That I was going to lose you. But I don’t think…” Holt’s eyes pressed shut, and though his face was a practised mask of calm, Zylah felt the pain that rippled from him.

“That’s enough thinking for today,” she managed, pressing the brin fruit into his hand. “I’m here. Safe and whole. The vanquicite made me sick and… It was a difficult time. Difficult to accept the things I’d done. The ways I’d changed.” All the ways she’d fucked things up between them. “But you…” She studied his face, both of them still holding onto the brin fruit. “You have been there for me through all of it. And I am not going anywhere. Let me be here for you. Please.”

Holt took Zylah’s other hand, turning it upright on the table. “I have a feeling I’ve never denied you anything,” he said, a canna cake appearing in her palm. “Thank you.”

When they made their way down into the court a short while later, Kopi flying to Zylah’s shoulder the minute they left Dalana and Ellisar’s place, a sombre mood had settled in the stifling air. Mae had returned.

But Holt made no move to seek her out, and neither did Zylah. They didn’t have to. Before they could join Dalana and Ellisar at one of the breakfast tables, Finn approached them, along with the female Zylah had healed the day before.

“Lady Maelissa wishes to see you both,” the Fae told them.

Zylah exchanged a look with Holt, gauging his reaction. “Lead the way,” she told Finn, her eyes still on Holt. She hadn’t covered them that morning, not when most of the court would have likely heard the tale of yesterday’s attack by now. And Zylah still needed to spend as much time getting accustomed to the way her magic overlapped the shadows, to the grainy film coating everything even when both versions of her sight aligned.

They followed Finn and the female in silence to the large trees at the heart of the court, up a winding staircase and across one of the walkways, nothing but the sound of the falls breaking the silence between them all.

Spray from another of the cascades misted over Zylah’s face as they passed behind it, the rock beyond opening out into another home. Mae’s home. She sat on a large bed, propped up by dozens of cushions, attendants combing her hair and massaging oil into her legs. Her only clothes were a pair of elbow length gloves and matching gauzy red underwear, leaving very little to the imagination.

“Prince of the Forest,” Mae drawled, reaching out a hand for Holt. “You came.”

Holt didn’t move from Zylah’s side.

The Fae shifted her gaze to Zylah, no doubt taking in her pointed ears, her ruined eyes. “What did I tell you, Zylah? He always comes back to me eventually.”

“My promise to remove you from this court still stands, Mae,” Holt said, with enough lethal calm in his voice that some of the attendants paused in their tasks.

Zylah schooled her face to neutrality at his words. She hadn’t told him that part over breakfast, and she wasn’t about to let slip to Mae the details of what had happened to him. Who he chose to tell and what was up to him.

Mae rose from the bed, one of her attendants draping a gossamer robe over her shoulders that did little to cover her exposed flesh. “Leave us,” she told the room. “You too, Finn, Sarina.”

Heads inclined, one of the Fae bowing so low her wings brushed the stone floor. The attendants left one by one, until only Finn remained. “My Lady.”

“I’m among friends, Finn. You said it yourself, they defended our court as if it were their own.” Mae’s smile sparkled with mirth as she waved Finn away, Zylah’s threads confirming that had indeed left the three of them, and Kopi, alone.

The Fae inspected her gloved hands, a pout pulling her lips together. “I know why you’ve come.”

Had it not been for Zylah’s threads, she wouldn’t have thought much of Mae’s odd choice of accessory. But as her magic unspooled farther across the room, they snagged on one of Mae’s gloves and what lay beneath it. She reached for Kopi at her shoulder and held out her palm to urge him to return to the trees in the court beyond.

“Ever the loyal companion,” Mae hummed, her eyes shifting to meet Zylah’s. “Curious,” she said quietly, just as Thallan had back in the palace in Virian, her gaze darting between Holt and Zylah. “Very curious.” She said nothing of Zylah’s eyes, of her being Fae, of how different she was from their last visit. If Mae had detected anything different about Holt, she said nothing of it.

“Out with it, Mae.” Holt folded his arms across his chest, waiting.

“The arrenium,” the Fae explained, circling them both, assessing, and Zylah began to wonder if she knew what they were to each other. “I can’t help you.”

Of course she wouldn’t. That wasn’t Mae’s style. No, not unless there was something in it for her. A bargain, perhaps. But Zylah wasn’t interested in more of those. She left Holt’s side to take in the room, the different plants in hanging baskets, some in a broad frame compacted into moss that seemed to be growing through the stone. Behind the bed, a table overflowed with fruit and platters of strange looking sweets, jugs of wine and trays of glasses.

“Take off the glove, Mae,” Zylah said, eyeing the food and trying to work out what was strange about it.

“A willing sacrifice,” the Fae explained after a beat of silence. She conceded to Zylah’s request, holding up her hand for Holt. Arrenium, just as Zylah had suspected.

Holt’s power crackled through the room, and Zylah’s gaze snapped up to his face. “You left your court defenceless, for this?” he snapped at Mae.

The Fae only clicked her tongue. “Come now, my prince, I taught you better control than that.” She reached her gloved hand to Holt’s face, but he stepped back from her touch, out of reach. “With Thallan and my archers lost to Ranon, I needed more arrenium to protect my court.”

“You expect us to believe you didn’t merely gift them to him?” Zylah said, detecting the strange note that laced everything across the table. Saca, a known aphrodisiac. Predictably, Mae’s attention remained fixed on Holt, and Zylah used it to her advantage.

“My archers were my greatest achievement. Thallan a lifelong friend. Do not lecture me on what I have had taken from me . This”—Mae almost spat the word, waving her strange new hand—“was the compromise I was offered from the Yzdrit.”

Zylah swilled one of the wine jugs as she listened to their exchange, made a quick calculation to double-check her dilution.

“Compromise?” Holt’s laugh was quiet, deadly, his attention flitting to Zylah and the glass in her hand as she rounded the bed. “You’d protect yourself and leave your court, the rest of the continent to suffer?” He remained still, but his exasperation rippled through every inch of him. “The humans you just took shelter with, the court you have built here will be gone, Mae, all of it.”

“Go to the Yzdrit yourselves. I’ll gladly provide a map. Negotiate your own terms if you need the arrenium so badly. I have all I’ll ever need.” Mae snatched the glass from Zylah’s hands just as she’d raised it to her mouth, downing the contents in one. The Fae’s lips curled in displeasure, eyes darting between the empty glass, then back at Zylah, recognition settling over her features. “You.”

Mae took a step closer, but one of Holt’s vines erupted from the stone at her feet and wrapped around her body, the glass slipping from her fingertips and shattering across the floor.

Zylah clicked her tongue at the mess. “That bitter aftertaste is often confused with ash root,” she said as she circled Mae slowly, just as the Fae had done to her and Holt. “First it causes heart palpitations. Then cold sweats. Spreading through your veins so very slowly, until those palpitations become stutters.” She paused to study Holt’s face, to search for any signs of anger at what she’d done. She found none. “And eventually,” Zylah went on, “Your heart. Just. Stops. Seventy-two hours is the usual lifespan after ingestion. Sometimes more, sometimes less.” She paused in front of Mae, the Fae struggling against her bindings. “Bring one of your Yzdrit contacts here to meet us, and I’ll give you the antidote.”

“It took three weeks to get there and back,” Mae snapped.

Zylah only shrugged her shoulders at that. “You’re resourceful. I’m sure you’ll find a way to convince them.”

“Why?” the Fae breathed.

Zylah leaned in close, close enough she could see her wild reflection in the Fae’s eyes. “For everything you did to him.”

Mae looked at Holt, her gaze imploring, and Zylah wondered if the High Lady would beg. But he didn’t baulk, didn’t release the bindings at her wrists.

“We have our own business to attend to,” Zylah explained, taking in the mess one last time. “We’ll return in seventy-two hours to administer the antidote.”

“Holt, please.”

“Seventy-two hours, Mae,” he told her and followed Zylah from the room.