The Sylph Hunter (34 page)

She was going to go back to the stable where she’d met One-Eleven next.

There were a number of customers in the restaurant; the survivors of the Hunter were determined to get on with life as if nothing had ever happened. Zalia couldn’t really blame them and turned to go.

“You! You’re still alive!”

Zalia turned back around to see Ilaja standing in the door to the kitchens, her hands on her hips as she stared at Zalia, her face already turning down into a frown. She’d been taken to the women’s hive, Zalia thought. What had it been like for her? Zalia had no idea if Ilaja was made into a battle-sylph master there as One-Eleven tried to do with her, but if Ilaja had, her battler hadn’t survived and she was back here, as bitter as always.

“I’m alive,” Zalia said, just to say something. “I’m glad you are.”

Ilaja sniffed, stomping toward her. “Don’t think Orlil will be glad to see you,” she retorted.

“Zalia!”

Both women turned to see Orlil coming out of the kitchens, mopping sweat off his forehead. He smiled at her winningly enough while the customers were listening, but when he reached her side, his voice dropped. Ilaja backed away a few steps, looking smug but also as though she didn’t want his attention on her by mistake.

“You little whore,” he snapped. “I heard that your battler got killed. Well, I’m going to make your life a nightmare now.”

Zalia looked at him, studying the man who’d once held her life in his hands and made her so miserable. Any fear she’d had for him was long gone.

“Zalia.” Zalia turned, smiling at the voice as Orlil blanched, seeing Devon walk up. His looks were unmistakable and there wasn’t anyone in Meridal who didn’t know what he’d done or that he now had the ear of the queen. Certainly there wasn’t a man surviving in the city who hadn’t seen him lead them all to safety in the men’s hive. Zalia beamed at him, loving his timing even as his hair started spiking in all directions again. Seeing power of a sort very different from a battler, Orlil began stammering greetings.

“Devon,” Zalia murmured, kissing his cheek. “Orlil was just telling me how he’s going to make my life horrid again, since I don’t have a battler to protect me.” Orlil started sputtering.

“Oh?” Devon looked down at Orlil, amused. “She has all of them, just as she does”—he pointed at Ilaja—“and everyone else here. We’re bringing in new laws, about fair treatment and fair wages. The battlers will be enforcing them.” He smiled at Orlil, who looked as though he was going to go into shock, and nodded at Ilaja, who gaped at them both with all the bitterness washed off her face. She blinked at him and stared at Zalia, who nodded and saw the first light of hope she’d ever seen in her appear on the woman’s face.

“Have a nice day,” Devon told Orlil, probably just to rub it in, and turned away, taking Zalia by the hand and leading her with him. They strolled down the street, enjoying the day before the sun got too hot. A battle sylph on patrol saw them and turned down a side street to take the long way around.

Devon sighed happily as his hair started rearranging itself again. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“It is,” Zalia murmured, laying her head on his shoulder and feeling her hair get tangled together with his. “I think for the first time ever, it really is.”

They walked on.

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

To Francois Bergogne, because I promised him a long time ago that I would.

To Michelle Grajkowski, for helping me get these books out to the world.

To Amazon, for deciding to take me under their wing.

A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR

Kevin Daly Photography

L
. J. McDonald is a fresh new voice in fantasy romance. Her first book,
The Battle Sylph
, was published by Dorchester in 2010 and named one of the top-five romance novels by
Library Journal
that year. She quickly followed her debut with two sequels:
The Shattered Sylph
and
Queen of the Sylphs
. McDonald earned a degree in anthropology from the University of Victoria and joined the Canadian Air Force in 2002. She currently lives in Embrun, Ontario.