51. Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-One

I t’s always going to be like this, isn’t it? This fear , Zylah asked weakly as Holt held her, more of his healing magic pouring into her.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. She felt it. Every emotion that raced through him, spiralling with hers. Fear and love and anger and concern and a burning desire to reduce the palace to nothing but ash.

Shadows blotted out most of her vision, her field of view narrowed only to him. There will be time for that , she told him. She tried to reach a hand to his face, but he caught her fingers in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his hand shaking. He’d used his power to take out the vampires and thralls in the gardens. And Thallan? she asked.

Dead.

Twice he’d used his power, and had it not been for Thallan, he’d have had no reason to use it at all. She recognised the repercussions of it now, the way the addictive nature of it weighed on him, interspersed with everything else he felt. Thallan suffered a quick end for the punishment she’d have liked to see inflicted on him, but it was Holt’s choice and she respected it. And despite the consequences of using his magic, she knew his hands shook for her, not for him.

“Is she alright?” Kej asked. They’d all kept their distance, and if Zylah had the strength she’d have laughed at the absurdity of that.

“Mmm, fine,” she murmured, trying to sit up. With Holt’s help, she managed to shuffle against the parapet, fingers closing around a canister he pressed into her hand. She drank the water greedily, closing her eyes as she took stock of her body and mind. She didn’t tell Kej she’d lost her other sight, that all she could see was currently limited until her magic had time to replenish itself.

Holt tried to hide his frustration at that, but he couldn’t hide it from her. He’d endured months of mental attacks. She’d barely been able to withstand a few minutes.

You were preoccupied , he said in her thoughts.

And he’d evanesced inside the palace a heartbeat after she’d nullified the vanquicite. Just as well, because she didn’t think she could evanesce anywhere in her current state. This time his rumble of discontent was audible, and Kej took a step back from them both.

“You fucking did it, Zy. I had my hand wrapped around the bars of that cell and I didn’t feel a thing.” Kej held his hand in front of him to demonstrate, and Zylah knew she’d spent far too much time with him when her first thought was to crack a joke about what else he wrapped his hand around like that.

“Did you get all of it?” Kej asked, barely containing his excitement. He had a gash over his left eye, another on his right thigh, but he didn’t seem to care. Daizin had a few minor injuries too, but like Kej, they were only superficial.

“Everything that was in the palace,” she said, pressing a hand to her forehead and drawing her knees up. “But we already know they’ve begun distributing the weapons, so they’re still at a far greater advantage.” She closed her eyes. “Ranon and Aurelia weren’t there, which likely means she can evanesce again, or we’d have had word from the scouts if they’d left the city.”

“They will return soon,” one of the blacksmiths said but didn’t elaborate. Though they looked nothing alike, he reminded Zylah of Okwata, his companion too, but when her threads reached for their signatures, she found they’d concealed them. “He’s getting stronger,” he added. Quiet fell over them all for a moment as they considered the repercussions of his words, and then he introduced himself and his companion, Holt offering up introductions for their group.

“Lady Maelissa told us you would come. We hadn’t anticipated the vanquicite,” Hayat said, making no effort to hide his assessment of their group, no mention of their stint behind bars.

Zylah eyed them warily. Mae had returned with an arrenium hand. Finn missing an arm, Sarina an eye. Rescuing the blacksmiths had been entirely based on the army’s needs, but it didn’t mean they’d get what they wanted. It didn’t mean the blacksmiths were to be trusted.

“We owe you our thanks,” Hayat added, his companion still silent.

Kej raised an eyebrow. “You can thank us with copious amounts of arrenium.”

“He was talking to Holt and Zylah,” Daizin said dryly.

Holt had slowed his healing, but he hadn’t stopped, and Zylah was too mentally drained to argue against it, resisting the urge to slump into him beside her, her mind still reeling.

“You’re a mated pair?” Hayat asked.

Holt stiffened beside her, a drop of his magic pouring from him in warning.

The blacksmith smiled. “Recently, I gather.”

Kej nodded enthusiastically, and Zylah didn’t miss the daggers Daizin glared at him, silence falling over them all once more. There was something strange about the Yzdrit, but Zylah couldn’t work out if it was merely abrasiveness or something else. Whatever it was, she suspected they wouldn’t offer up the arrenium without some demands of their own. Two scouts appeared on the rooftop beside them a moment later, neither of whom Zylah recognised.

Two of Arlan’s , Holt told her, helping her to her feet. He didn’t let her go as the scouts split them into two groups; Kej with them and Daizin accompanying the blacksmiths. Didn’t leave her side until they’d returned to the safety of the camp, the wards pressing at Zylah’s skin as they passed through them.

“You aren’t prisoners here, but you won’t receive bargains the likes of which your kind struck with Mae and the members of her court. We’ve nothing to offer you,” Holt told the Yzdrit as they made their way through the camp to Nye’s tent.

Rose and Saphi had joined Rin and Arlan’s latest skirmish, none of them due to return for another day at the very least. Zack and Nye joined them almost immediately, her brother paling the moment he saw her, but Zylah swatted him away.

“I’m fine,” she murmured as she sank into the chair closest to her. Her threads felt lethargic, coiling in tight around her like they were settling down to sleep.

You should sleep. It helps , Holt said gently. After Thallan. After exhausting herself with the vanquicite.

After, she told him. She wouldn’t miss this. Wouldn’t sit discussions out because she needed time to fully heal; the other soldiers were rarely afforded the same exemption.

Okwata and Ahrek entered the tent, Arioch at their side, but Zylah’s eyesight was too poor to make out their reaction to the Yzdrit’s presence in the dim orblight. The scientist had schooled his expression well, only offering them a polite smile in greeting.

You can’t keep pushing yourself to your limits, Holt said quietly in her thoughts. There was a plea wrapped up in the statement, but his words were firm.

She glanced over her shoulder to take in the details of his face, the flecks of gold in his eyes, until the shadows in hers blotted out everything but him. She would never take for granted being able to sit beside him. Being able to hear his heart beat in time with hers. You spent three months enduring that; I’ll be fine.

I can’t —he cut himself off. Okwata and the blacksmiths were talking. You were right. I think they’re the same.

Zylah could see little of their exchange, but she didn’t need to.

“A fellow traveller,” Hayat said. “You’re here alone?”

Okwata hummed. “My partner and I travel together. But his home is… elsewhere.” Ahrek was silent at his side, but Zylah’s magic hadn’t replenished enough to see through his deceits, to spot the feline features she’d seen before.

“What is happening right now?” Kej whispered at Zylah’s other side, Daizin shushing him quietly.

“And a Seraphim. We have not seen your kind here before,” Hayat added.

“You likely won’t,” Arioch told him with a sad smile.

Zylah wondered if he wanted to return to wherever he came from. If he could. Though she had no doubt all of them would rather be anywhere but in the crowded camp, risking their lives day in and day out.

They’re all here for the same reasons you are , Holt told her. They all want their freedom; to secure a better future for their loved ones. Affection curled around the words, settling over Zylah’s heart. A future with him. There had barely been time to consider it. But they’d found each other no matter what Ranon and Aurelia tried to throw at them; she would never give him up.

Holt echoed the sentiment, his fierce devotion rolling over her skin.

“The vanquicite?” Nye asked, after a few more questions between Okwata and the Yzdrit.

“Zy got every last fucking bit of it,” Kej said, tapping his fist on the table in an effort to contain his excitement.

Nye’s sigh was audible. She ignored her cousin, introducing herself and Zack to the two Yzdrit as generals in a joint army, fighting for the same cause, before deferring to Holt.

He left Zylah’s side to walk around the table. A map of Astaria lay spread across the rough wood, far too many black pebbles indicating the presence of vampires, of villages razed. “You’ve seen what Ranon is doing,” he said, his gaze darting over markers before meeting the blacksmiths’ eyes. “You’ve walked through our camp; you know what our plans are. You know what we want.” He stood at the head of the table, his expression schooled to practised neutrality. “You aren’t prisoners here, but I won’t see our soldiers giving up their rations to feed you if you’ve no interest in providing the arrenium. And I’ve no desire to know what twisted bargains you made with Mae and the people of her court. Either you’ll help us, help the people of Astaria secure their freedom, or you won’t.”

The Yzdrit exchanged a look before Hayat spoke. “We’d like a few days to reach our conclusion.”

“We don’t have a few days. Ranon intends to use the blood moon in a little over a week’s time. You have until this time tomorrow to decide. And you hunt or forage for your own food. Kerthen is not a place to wander after dark; our wards only stretch so far. Okwata, Ahrek. Perhaps you could find them a space for the night.” Holt’s attention shifted over the map again, something tightening in his expression.

Zylah knew why. Without the arrenium, taking out all the vampires could take years. Decades, even, if they created more of them faster than they died. At the other end of the table, Okwata smiled brightly, patted Ahrek on the hand, and the two of them escorted the blacksmiths from the tent.

“I don’t like them,” Kej muttered. He hadn’t produced a wine bottle, and he was being relatively restrained, all things considered. Even Nye seemed surprised at that.

Holt folded his arms as he leaned against a tall wooden chest. His leathers were torn in a few places, dried blood crusting the edges, but he’d healed himself back on the rooftop. “Arioch. We need whatever information you can give us about Ranon and Imala’s relationship. We’re missing too many pieces.”

The Seraphim looked between Nye and Daizin before he spoke. “Imala was like them. Different to the others.” His focus seemed to drift, and Zylah suspected he was no longer sitting with them in his mind. “Sira and Pallia were inseparable at first. Alone, their power was unrivalled, but together, it was frightening. Then Imala joined them. They were sisters not by blood, but by magic. A binding spell.” He shifted his attention to Holt. “They made themselves into something different to the remaining six. Witches, they called themselves. Ranon showed an interest in all three of them over the years. He always coveted their power.”

“He imprisoned you out of spite?” Zylah asked, piecing everything together. He’d said he’d been one of Imala’s lovers, back when she met him in the maze. The Seraphim nodded. Imprisoned for centuries. Zylah didn’t know how he hadn’t lost his mind. She sifted through all she’d learnt, everything she knew about the original nine, the stories of how Ranon and Sira broke away from the other seven. “Sira was never truly Ranon’s, was she?”

“Sira was the first of Ranon’s conquests because she was the most powerful of the three. Imala and I were together at the time. But then…” Arioch swallowed, his gaze flicking between Holt and Zylah. “Sira and I discovered what we were to each other, and after that, Ranon and Imala sought comfort in each other’s beds.”

“Because you couldn’t return their affections,” Holt said flatly.

Arioch nodded.

“Aurelia isn’t Sira’s child,” Zylah murmured.

“Sira and I had been together for a year when Ranon imprisoned me. She would never… not willingly…” The Seraphim paled at the implication.

“Was Imala pregnant?” Nye asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Arioch said quietly. He stared at the map, a faraway look sweeping over his features.

The war began over a child that was lost. Sira’s and Arioch’s, Zylah suspected. But she didn’t want to upset Arioch further without knowing the truth. She thought of the bargain she’d made in Kerthen. The strange woman in the shop in Morren. “How does Pallia fit into all of this?”

“She adored her sisters. But I had very little interaction with her. She was alone when Ranon imprisoned me. I imagine things would have been tense between Sira and Imala afterwards.”

Forcing Pallia to pick a side. She wondered whether Arioch knew how the history books had portrayed his mate, how they’d tarnished her name.

“One thing I can tell you for certain: Ranon is using their magic. He wanted Sira for her power from the beginning, and when she wouldn’t offer up her secrets, he turned to the others,” Arioch added.

“So you’ve no idea what happened to Sira and Imala. Pallia. To any of them,” Nye said.

“None. Only that…” The Seraphim rested a hand over his heart. “Sira isn’t gone.”

You think it was Sira you bargained with? Holt asked, his eyes darting over Zylah’s face.

I did. Before. But something isn’t adding up.

“You don’t need the arrenium to get close to Ranon,” Arioch all but pleaded. “Don’t let him use the orb. You haven’t seen the half of what he’s capable of.”

“Without the arrenium, it’s a death sentence,” Nye said, waving a hand over the map at the mass of black spread before them all.

Holt pressed a hand to the parchment, his expression solemn. “It might be our only option.”