52. Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Two

J ust over a week until the blood moon, and still they had no arrenium. The Iyofari riders had yet to arrive, and the army’s numbers had taken a significant hit since the skirmishes had increased.

With the vanquicite in the palace successfully depleted, plans were underway to begin the arduous process of moving soldiers into position beneath Virian. The army had been divided into ranks, the few members of the Black Veil who remained assigned to either Nye’s or Arlan’s command, a third section reporting directly to Zack.

Zylah’s time had been occupied with helping the scouts move soldiers to the tunnels, partnering with Holt to reduce their risk of being tracked. Saphi had been assisting in the healers’ tent; even Rose had been helping out when Zylah had stopped by between ferrying soldiers, all of them working together towards their singular goal. The camp had never been so busy, soldiers coming and going with their units as directed.

They needed to be close to the palace before the blood moon, and only one section of the army had been instructed to travel by foot, the rest via the scouts Holt and Zylah joined. The tunnels weren’t exactly a desirable location to set up camp, but they were the safest place to stay for a week; the most logical choice to station the soldiers rather than have them march into the city and fight when they were sleep starved and exhausted.

The day had passed by in a blur, and Zylah had been grateful for the excuse to rest when Nye had asked her to share some of her foraging tips with a group of soldiers. Complaints about rations were common, and nothing affected morale more than the prospect of running out of food. Zylah had happily obliged the general’s request, despite the way her exhausted body protested the thought of anything but climbing into her bed and falling asleep. She was halfway through instructing a group of soldiers on how to grind down dewglove roots for stews when cheers and cries of elation cut through the camp.

Zylah paused her instruction, unspooled her threads to locate the source of the commotion. Arrenium. Lots of it. “We’ll continue this tomorrow,” she told the soldiers, excusing herself before evanescing across the camp to find Kej whooping and cheering at the pile of weapons at his feet. All arrenium, light hitting the mineral in a way that, for the first time, Zylah realised was a dark green rather than black, the surface like polished glass.

Holt stood between the two blacksmiths, his eyes finding hers the moment she arrived. A delirious grin broke out across Zylah’s face, but she was too tired to hide it. She didn’t need to; Holt’s smile was a mirror to her own.

They certainly took your deadline to heart , she told him.

Better late than never , he shot back.

They just handed it over?

Holt made his way over to her, leaving an exasperated Daizin to deal with Kej. A debt was owed. But I think Okwata convinced them. Ahrek too. They want to help make some modifications to the wings Okwata’s been working on for Arioch.

Zylah tilted her head back to look up at him, resting a hand over his heart and soaking in his warmth, his scent, his proximity heating her blood. To help? Just like that? The arrenium for their freedom, that tracked, but offering to help Arioch must have had some ulterior motive behind it.

They see it as an opportunity to learn something new , Holt said, his eyes dipping to her mouth and his fingers brushing her neck where he eased her braid over her shoulder. Her thighs squeezed together as the corner of his mouth tipped up in a knowing smile and he took a step closer, only for Kej’s antics with the arrenium to bring them both reluctantly back into the reality of the moment.

“So you just had this all sitting around the entire time?” the Fae asked, inspecting a dagger before sliding it into an empty sheath at his thigh. Soldiers had begun to gather around them, some of them sharing Kej’s elation, others looking quietly relieved.

“Kejin,” Daizin barked.

That got their friend’s attention. Kej glanced up at Daizin, an eyebrow raised. “What? You know sharp things excite me.” A muscle in Daizin’s jaw ticked, his shadows prising another dagger from Kej’s fingers.

Holt gave them both instructions for inventory and distribution, a portion of the pile disappearing before their eyes for the soldiers they’d already taken to the tunnels. Daizin must have called for Nye through whatever strange connection they shared, soldiers parting for the general, Zack at her side.

Zylah wanted nothing more than to pull Holt away to the privacy of their tent, but her brother caught her attention.

Go. Holt’s voice in her thoughts made no attempt to hide his humour at her predicament. He’ll be stationed in the tunnels from tomorrow.

“Hey.” Zack’s exhaustion was palpable as he walked up to her, and it struck Zylah that she barely recognised him as the boy from her memories. Dark smudges sat beneath his eyes, his hair longer than she’d ever seen it. A short beard shadowed his face, his skin pale, and again she was reminded of his humanness, of how much more this all took its toll on his body than his Fae counterparts. “Walk with me?”

“Only if you’ll let me heal you a little.”

Zack scrunched his nose. “I can’t stand the smell of the healers’ tent, reminds me too much of father’s apothecary.”

“You hated the smell?”

Her brother huffed a laugh as he led the way through the camp, nodding at soldiers as they passed. “I never understood it all like you do. It was always something else I couldn’t do for him. Something I couldn’t be. Being in his shop just reminded me of all the ways I’d disappointed him.”

Zylah couldn’t hide her surprise at his words. Their father had never said a bad word about Zack, never voiced any hint of dissatisfaction at the path her brother had chosen. “You were all he talked about to customers. His son, the King’s Blade. Not a day went by when he didn’t remind me of your title.”

“I suppose we excelled in keeping things from each other. Keeping things from you.”

“Zack—”

He held out a hand to cut her off. “I should have said this back in Virian. Before that; it’s long overdue. Your life was sheltered because Father and I thought we were protecting you from the truth. From how painful it might be. But we got it wrong. Very wrong. And I want you to know how sorry I am for that. For keeping things from you.”

Zylah hadn’t realised how much she’d needed to hear it. How much she’d needed to understand why they’d kept so much from her over the years.

“When he was dying,” he went on, his voice thickening, “he asked me to tell you how sorry he was for all of it. How the moment you were taken to Arnir’s prison, he knew how badly he’d handled everything. And after that…” He studied her face, her eyes, her pointed ears.

“Everything happened so quickly.”

Her brother nodded.

“I was so afraid when the bounty hunter took you. When you fled Virian. I thought I’d never see you again. And when I saw you in the tunnels with Holt.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m so proud of you. And I’m sorry, Zylah, for my part in all of it.”

She fought back the sting of tears, a warm tingle of devotion brushing over her skin from Holt down the bond. “Do you know who my parents are?”

Zack shook his head. “No. There were never any lies surrounding how I found you. Every word of that was the truth.”

“Holt promised he’d help me find them.” Neither of them mentioned that her parents were most likely long dead.

Zack smiled, his features softening, his face resembling something like the brother she remembered. “I’m happy for you, Zy. If you’d asked me to pick someone for you, it would have been him. Even if he scared the shit out of me when we first met.”

That elicited a laugh from Zylah. They stopped at a firepit near his tent, logs assembled haphazardly around the flames. “Sit beside me,” she told her brother.

His eyes narrowed. “I fell for that too many times when we were children.”

Zylah shoved him onto a log with a laugh. “I’ve missed you.” She took his hand, squeezed it as he had with hers before letting a little of her healing magic tumble into him, careful not to overwhelm him with too much.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said quietly, squeezing her fingers back.

They sat together watching the flames, and though Zylah knew he likely had a hundred tasks he needed to attend to, he didn’t make any effort to leave. Neither did she, some silent agreement passing between them to take this one quiet moment they had with each other whilst the camp carried on around them, until the sun had long since disappeared over the tree line.

“There you are.” Nye stood on the opposite side of the fire, her expression softening as she watched them both.

“General,” Zack said, pushing to his feet. His features softened, too, Zylah noted.

“General.” Nye grinned, and Zylah suddenly felt as if she’d walked in on the middle of a private joke. “Two Black Veil soldiers are asking to be transferred to you tomorrow. But if you’re busy, I’ll reassign them.”

“I’ll deal with it,” he told her. “Zylah.” His eyes darted over her face again. “Thank you for the top up.” He swept her up into a hug, squeezing her laughter from her like he had when they were children. Another nod in Nye’s direction, and then he was gone, making his away across the camp.

“He’s excelled as a general.” Nye settled onto the log Zack had occupied moments before, her attention on the flames.

Zylah studied her friend’s face, the dip of her chin and the way her lips pressed together. “So have you. But that’s not what you were really thinking,” she said with a gentle smile.

Nye hummed. “As a general I’ve learnt not to let myself get too attached to anyone.”

“That sounds like a very lonely way to live.”

Another hum. Rin and Arlan made their way past the tents opposite, eyes only for each other and oblivious to Zylah and Nye watching them. Rin leaned into him, Arlan pressing a kiss into her hair as they slipped behind a tent out of sight.

“Does your cousin share your fear?” Zylah asked.

Nye laughed softly at that. “She spent so long arguing with Malok about her choices, about how her heart was hers to give, that when she fell in love with Arlan she couldn’t reconcile that it all might actually work out. That she might like the male she was betrothed to.”

“And Kej?”

Nye shrugged. “They’re two sides of the same coin. Rin has something she was given and can’t accept it’s truly hers. Kej finally has something he thinks he doesn’t deserve and can’t accept he does. They’ll figure it out eventually.”

Zylah considered her friend’s words as a soldier threw another log onto the fire, embers spitting in the dark.

“My uncle told me to offer you his thanks again,” Nye said after a few moments of silence. “What happened between you and Holt is your business, but in matters pertaining to my home, I’d like to know—”

“He died.” The words were choked. “I think. I don’t know. He was gone but he wasn’t,” Zylah said, her throat painfully tight.

“And you brought him back.”

Zylah met her friend’s amber eyes and nodded. “I did.” She twisted her hands in her lap, breathed through her nose at the memory of it, another burst of affection settling over her shoulders from Holt, easing some of the tension in her body. “There was an attack. Holt fell from the courtyard into the ocean after rescuing Malok from a vampire. Killed the creature with his magic when they hit the water, and I pulled him out.”

“And broke Ranon’s command.” It was a statement, because Nye already knew the answer. “Holt is known for his loyalty to his friends, for the fierce way he protects those he loves.” She studied Zylah’s face. “His soul spoke to yours because you’re the same, Zylah. Because your heart is just as fierce, just as willing to fight. I don’t need to tell you he means a great deal to my family. To me. You both do.”

Nye’s eyes were glassy in the firelight, her smile warm, and a laugh escaped her when Zylah threw her arms around her friend to pull her into an embrace. She’d never been good at receiving help from others. At letting people in. Kara had been her only friend growing up, and Zylah had accepted it, accepted that she was too different for the other children to want to get close to her. But since fleeing the gallows, running from Arnir, leaving Virian, she’d found friends who embraced her just as she was. Nye. Saphi. Rin and Kej. Daizin. And she hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate that. To consider how very real the prospect of losing them in the next few days was.

“Whatever Ranon is planning will likely be ritualistic,” Nye said when Zylah released her, her expression hardening.

“Like making his followers cut out their own hearts?”

“Precisely.”

Zylah thought of Saphi’s scar. Of how terrified she must have been when Sira spoke to her. The priestesses had always referred to themselves as Pallia’s, and Zylah wondered if that was because they belonged to both of them. To Imala too. Whether all of the history she knew had been entirely fabricated by Ranon at some point along the years.

She’d been taught the sprites saved Imala, that the Fae celebrated her freedom. Fae freedom. But was it Ranon they released her from? They would find out soon enough. A soldier pulled Nye away to her duties, leaving Zylah alone beside the fire, the camp winding down around her. The story of the original nine occupied her thoughts, of how their actions, their decisions changed the course of Astaria’s history. A history that was full of many gaps and inconsistencies. Yet the suffering was undeniable. The years of Fae living in hiding, disguising who they were.

Just over a week until the blood moon, and the prospect of true freedom felt so close yet somehow still so far beyond their reach.