“Trustyou?”
“Trust yourself. But yes, ideally, trust me while you’re at it.”
“I don’t know how.”
“We’ll start small then. One simple truth.”
In the present, Cedric blinked.
His truth was that for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he had real hope. Hope that they would leave this place, that they could make a difference. Hope that his being here wasn’t a mistake or miscalculation.
He wasn’t a knight sent to fight a war he didn’t understand. He wasn’t Lord Church’s champion, trained to win a challenge he’d never truly been prepared for. He wasn’t a frightened boy witnessing his entire world burn around him. Right now, in this moment, he was a man who knew without a doubt that the woman at his side was meant to do this. That he was meant to do it with her.
She knew what it was to conquer darkness. To resist its temptation. To use power forgood. To save and to help and to love without limit.
You are the only one among them who is worthy,Evander had said.
Of that, he had been right.
“One simple truth,” said Cedric, his voice thick. “If you believe nothing else in this world, Elyria Lightbreaker, trust what I say next.”
Elyria’s eyes widened in recognition of the words.
“You are the only one I would trust to do it.”
She smiled then, bright and beaming, color blooming in the ivory planes of her cheeks, and Cedric could have sworn his heart skipped several beats. The golden thread between them shimmered, sealing up the cracks that had formed in Cedric’s soul, and he knew without knowing that something had shifted—cemented—between them.
“All right then,” she said, striding toward the door at the end of the hall. “Let us finish this.”
49
THE FINAL TRIAL
CEDRIC
The air wascrisp and cool. Cedric looked up and soaked in the endless night. There was no aurora to light their way. Just a thousand diamonds spilled across an ocean of inky black.
The ground below their feet lit up, as if the starlight above had been gathered and infused into the dirt, creating a luminous path. It did not wind, did not meander or wander. It cut straight ahead, leading them to the end of a steep amphitheater. A pit carved from stone, surrounded on all sides by steep stairs and rows upon rows of empty benches, as if an audience of ghosts waited to watch the final trial.
The Trial of Concord.
At the center of the pit stood a familiar silhouette, shrouded in white. Cedric put his hand on the small of Elyria’s back asthey descended the stairs, a kind of finality settling on his shoulders with each step.
More than once, Cedric’s hand tightened on Elyria, wrapping his fingers around her waist like he meant to steady her. She huffed, clearly annoyed that he thought she might actually lose her balance walking down some stairs. She even went so far as to uncloak her wings, flaring them out as if to prove a point. She could fly. She did not need his helpwalking.
Her reaction drew a low chuckle from Cedric, but he didn’t pull back. Balance was the least of his reasons for doing it.
He’d gotten far too used to the feel of her hand in his, to the way her touch grounded him, kept him pinned in reality. She calmed the furnace in his chest, let the light there bloom instead. Heneededto touch her. Needed to feel the pulse of her blood and the magic beneath her skin, each beat a reminder.
She is real.
This is real.
We are at the end, and we are going to get out of here.
The pit itself was clean, stark, barren. Empty, save for a lone pedestal standing at its center and the white-clad celestial beside it.
Aurelia’s robes were drawn, her hood shielding her hair, though her face remained visible. The back of Cedric’s neck prickled at the sight of the pillow that lay atop the pedestal. It was tufted, crafted from a velvet of deepest red, a sparkling gem in the center of each divot. It was the kind of pillow meant to hold something precious. Something regal. Something royal.
