48. Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Eight

T hey barely made it ten steps into the camp before Kej tackled Holt into the dirt.

“Fucking finally,” he told his friend, hands clasped either side of Holt’s face before wrapping his arms around him in a fierce hug. “Are you going to gut me if I congratulate her?”

Zylah laughed, holding out a hand to help Kej haul himself off Holt. “Of course he won’t.”

Suddenly their friends were surrounding them, Zack too, smiles and laughter spreading among them all and the occasional ear-splitting whoop from Kej. Even Arlan emerged from one of the tents to offer his congratulations, Daizin followed by Okwata and Ahrek. Zylah hid her amusement at how the males kept their distance from her, how only Zack hovered at her side with Rin and Nye, the rest of them remaining beside Holt out of respect.

A far cry from the human traditions she’d grown up with. Holt’s unspoken apology hummed in her bones, but it was laced with his amusement, too, and Zylah revelled in the joy of the moment, knowing it would be over all too quickly.

Her brother spun her around in a bear hug like he had when they were children, his laughter bringing a lump to her throat. She hadn’t heard his laugh in too long. “I’m so happy for you,” he murmured into her hair, and for the first time, it sank in that she was going to watch him grow old, that she would have to say goodbye to him long before she was ready, that she would not be able to protect his human body from the effects of time.

Holt’s comfort twined with her sadness, and she willed the sad thoughts aside, returning her brother’s smile. Despite the shadows that remained in Zylah’s vision, she didn’t miss the dark smudges under her friends’ eyes, the signs of exhaustion in all of them.

“There are two more who’ll want to share this moment with you,” Nye told Zylah as she peeled Rin away from her third hug.

Piercing blue eyes met Zylah’s, the exact same colour as Raif’s. Rose, and at her side, Saphi. Saphi launched herself at Zylah, arms wrapping around her, the Fae’s vanilla scent reminding Zylah of days and nights spent at the safehouse back in Virian. But again, she shoved aside the dark thoughts, the feelings of regret. Everything had brought her to this moment, Holt slipping through the crowd to stand at her side and press a hand to her lower back, a kiss into her hair.

Saphi cupped Zylah’s face, breathed her name, tears overflowing from her amber eyes and rolling down her cheeks. It was the first time they’d seen her like this, the slight alterations in her appearance since the vanquicite had been removed, her damaged eyes. “More beautiful than ever,” her friend told her gently, running delicate russet fingers over the scar at Zylah’s temple.

“Congratulations, both of you,” Rose said at Saphi’s side, and there was no hint of malice in it, only true happiness.

Zylah bit back the retorts on the tip of her tongue, the questions, the disgust at what Rose had done. There would no doubt be time for it later. She took in the Fae’s long, dark hair, just like her brother’s used to be, stark against her pale skin, the way she held herself so similar to Aurelia, the way she’d lied to them both still fresh in Zylah’s mind.

“We all needed some good news,” Rose added, clearing her throat and taking a hesitant step back.

But Zylah wouldn’t ruin this moment. Not for Holt. Not for herself. Not for their friends. Because Rose was right, they all needed something to celebrate.

“We have so much to catch up on,” Saphi said, a half sob, half laugh escaping her. Wasn’t that the truth. It had been the best part of a year since Zylah had said goodbye to them, the day they’d all believed Raif had died. All she knew was that they hadn’t had much luck seeking allies in the Northern Territories.

“First things first,” Kej cut in, pulling a bottle from one of his layers of clothing. “We need to hear how this happened.” He tipped the bottle between Holt and Zylah. “My guess is Zy pulled some serious magical moves, and I want to hear every glorious detail.”

“ Or ,” Rin began, snatching the bottle from her brother’s hands before he could bring it to his lips, “they might want to keep the details to themselves.”

The siblings bickered, but Zylah tuned it out, her threads working overtime, passing through the camp and searching, checking, seeking something that wasn’t there.

Zylah? Holt asked in her thoughts.

The Yzdrit aren’t here.

“Storytime can wait,” Zylah said, patting Kej on the shoulder apologetically. “But we do have a lot to discuss.” She replayed Mae’s words over and over as they all made their way into one of the tents, the interior set up with a large table, wooden chairs assembled from soldiers’ supplies and stools made from tree stumps surrounding it. The Yzdrit were willing to work against Ranon, Mae had said. Only willing . Not that they would. Not that they had agreed to anything, offered anything.

“Your aunt’s people haven’t arrived?” Zylah asked Nye as they all took a seat, Holt’s chair creaking beside her as he sank into it. She already knew Nye’s answer; her threads hadn’t detected any of the Iyofari like Cirelle’s Rava amongst the camp, only humans and Fae, and the three exceptions Zylah already knew of.

“The harsh winter has affected the Iyofari’s nesting. They can’t be separated from their hatchlings too soon, and those that aren’t bearing any young usually help,” Nye explained.

Solid reasoning, but it didn’t help their situation, their inability to get them all close to the palace, Holt and Zylah the only ones with any kind of tolerance to the vanquicite.

Nye and Arlan updated them on the attacks that had been carried out in their absence, the information they’d gleaned about the numbers of vampires and thralls and their whereabouts. A far greater number than they’d first anticipated, but most of them remained in Virian, imprisoning Fae and humans there for feeding and charging Ranon’s orb.

Updating Holt, Zylah realised, because every one of them sat at that table together because of his vision, the version of Astaria he’d dreamed of for years. Pride swelled in her chest and down their bond, pride and humility that she got to sit beside him and witness it.

Rose and Saphi filled them in on the alliances they’d made on Holt’s behalf. No army was following them, but the promise of a future with members of the Northern Territories was a start. They’d arrived the day Holt and Zylah had left for Mae’s court, missing each other by just a few hours.

“There was an attack on the Aquaris Court,” Holt told Nye and her cousins. “All the creatures were dealt with; Malok asked after you all.”

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Nye said, her eyes darting to Zylah’s and a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Because of course, the piece of that update she latched onto was the unscheduled nature of their visit. “You went to the library?”

“We didn’t find anything of use. The attack cut short our research, and we had a deadline for returning to Mae.” Zylah briefly explained the ultimatum she’d given the High Lady, skipping over all that had transpired between her and Holt at the Aquaris Court. That he’d all but died at the base of the cliffs. Another surge of comfort flared from him, his thigh pressing against hers as she fought to keep her features neutral, every too-raw emotion contained.

Kej leaned forwards, elbows pressed to the table. “You poisoned her, gave her underlings the antidote, but didn’t stick around to see if it worked?”

“That’s a fair assessment,” Zylah said, holding his enthused gaze.

Her friend whistled. “And I thought Holt was the unpredictable one. Remind me not to get on your bad side, Zy.”

“Maelissa won’t be missed,” Holt said, a dark edge to his tone and a crackle of magic in the air.

Kej shot an apologetic look at them both, Daizin glaring at him from one side and Rin from the other. But Zylah hadn’t taken offence.

“She may have lived, if she’s strong. We gave her seventy-two hours to get us answers, but it would have taken another half a day for the alcane to kill her.” The truth, but Mae had been weak when they’d left her. And Zylah hadn’t felt any remorse over that since they’d left. “She thinks Ranon is trying to get home,” she added, her attention on Nye again, perhaps the only one of them that knew the details of how the original nine made it into their world. “It adds up, Nye. The power he’s holding in that orb.”

“Then I say let the fucker go,” Kej muttered, taking a swig from yet another bottle. “We’re all better off without him.”

This time it was Daizin who snatched the bottle from his hands. “And just let him become someone else’s problem? Would you truly be okay with that?” Disappointment shone in his eyes and Kej shifted on his stool as if he’d caught it, too.

“Fine then. Call the orb to you.” He waved, a flourish of his hand Zylah suspected was an imitation of summoning magic. “Smash it to pieces.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Holt asked. “Two Yzdrit blacksmiths supposedly made their way here ahead of us, but they may have gone to Virian.” Care for a little scouting mission? he asked Zylah silently. “They might possess arrenium, but the vanquicite will still affect them, and we don’t know what their intentions are yet. Maelissa could have been lying.”

Where you go, I go , Zylah shot back.

“We haven’t been able to remain in the palace grounds for more than a few minutes with all the vanquicite,” Arlan admitted.

“We’ll go. Get a closer look,” Holt told them.

Zack looked as if he might protest, but whatever he’d been about to say, Nye cut him off. “You’re… healed?” she asked, the slightest hint of disbelief audible in her tone.

Zylah turned to her mate and met his gaze, his beautiful eyes every shade of a winter forest as they swept over her face. Holt swallowed and dipped his chin. In acknowledgement, in reverence, in awe, all of it dancing over Zylah’s skin and swirling in her blood.

“We voted against the vanquicite testing in your absence,” Zack cut in.

That was enough to pull Zylah’s attention back to the table. “You did?”

“You’ve been through enough,” Zack said. “Both of you. Sacrificed enough.”

The table fell quiet at that, but Zylah’s mind was working through possibilities, turning over ideas as the others discussed Okwata’s experiments.

You want to try to nullify the vanquicite? Holt asked her.

It would take a great deal of magic, but… maybe. I can experiment when we search for the blacksmiths. She thought back to the mine attack, to the vanquicite cells in the palace. All I’ve ever really managed is to withstand it up until now, but I want to try and strip away the part of it that affects us. Affects Fae.

The conversation around them turned to their deadline, to the approaching blood moon.

“The night of the winter solstice,” Saphi told them, all eyes shifting to the Fae. “I was one of Sira’s priestesses. Though half of them think they belong to Pallia now.”

Holt hid his surprise, his face schooled to neutrality, but Zylah felt it. Saphi had suspected witches, he had told her, not long after he’d found her in Varda months ago. But their friend had concealed her past, her connections, and Zylah knew Saphi well enough to understand it would not have been without good reason.

“They tried many times to release Ranon. Many different methods.” Her gaze shifted to Zylah. “My scar,” the Fae said, a hand tugging at her tunic to reveal the jagged lines down the centre of her chest. “From a ceremony, designed to draw power from a willing sacrifice.”

“Who did that to you?” Zylah had asked when Saphi had been tending to Zylah’s wounds when the bounty hunter had whipped her. “I did,” the Fae had replied.

Zylah pressed a hand to her stomach as Saphi went on. “But halfway through the ritual, I heard her. Sira. Begging me to stop. So I did. And I ran for a very long time.”

“ I know what it is to run,” she’d told Zylah once. Rose wrapped a hand over Saphi’s, resting her head against the Fae’s shoulder.

And Sira had saved her life, if her story was to be believed.

“Why?” Rin asked at the other end of the table, Arlan at her side.

Saphi shrugged. “I don’t know. But not a day goes by that I don’t offer Sira my thanks.”

A bold admission, and Zylah understood why her friend had kept it such a well-guarded secret, even from Holt. To admit any kind of devotion to Sira, even with such a story behind it, was undoubtedly difficult for most Fae to grasp. But Zylah had spent most of her life as a human, and most of her life since running because she wasn’t. No one would offer up such a story willingly, unless it was necessary to tell it; if it truly was Sira that Saphi had heard, that changed things.

She wondered, not for the first time, if Arioch knew of all Sira had been accused of, or if it had been as a result of his imprisonment. And a ceremony designed to draw power from a willing sacrifice… The citizens of Astaria had suffered enough, both humans and Fae; if the vampires and thralls continued to populate, both humans and Fae were at risk, would never know true freedom if they had to live in constant fear of being prey. And they only had until the blood moon to put a stop to Ranon’s plans.

They talked long into the night, Holt slipping back into his role like the last four months hadn’t happened, all of them deferring to him. A plan formed for an attack on Virian, for Ranon and Aurelia, a little of Zylah’s exhaustion from earlier giving way to unyielding determination and a renewed sense of hope.