Elyria barely noticed. “Coming here was a mistake. This whole entire stars-damned fucking Crucible was a mistake.” She wrung her hands, pacing as shadows twirled between her fingers. The ground rumbled beneath her feet. She was spinning out. He knew what she must have been thinking. Tonotclaim the crown would ensure not only their deaths, but those of Kit, Zephyr, Thraigg, Nox. They would all be trapped in the Sanctum, until death or madness—likely both—came for them. But in order to claim it...
His eyes went to the dagger, moonlight glinting off it like some twisted beacon of fate. His heart hammered against his ribs as icy resolve washed over him.
“It’s all right, Elyria,” he said, grabbing her hands and forcing her to still. He studied her face, the points of her ears, taking in the freckle on her left cheek, the wave of periwinkle hair above her right eyebrow that always seemed to be slightly out of place. Lifting one hand to her chin, he traced the curve of her jaw, the line of her bottom lip.
She released a shaky breath, her eyes shuttering as she leaned into his touch.
“Don’t,” he whispered, and her eyelids fluttered back open. “I want to see you.” He stared into her jewel-green eyes, tried to memorizetheir exact shade, the sheen of the silver flecks within. When he blinked, his lashes were wet.
“Cedric, what?—”
“I just wish we had more time,” he said, steeling himself as he drew in one last, slow breath.
“Wait, what are you?—”
Cedric ran to the pedestal.
He reached for the dagger. A zing of power ran up his hand as his fingers grazed the ruby in its hilt. But it was gone in the next blink as a pale hand knocked it from his grasp.
“No.” Elyria whirled on him, eyes blazing. Metal and stone rang through the amphitheater as the dagger clattered on the ground between them.
Cedric lunged for it.
Once more, Elyria was faster. With a kick, she sent it skittering across the stone floor until it collided with the stairs on the other side. He moved to go after it, but she was already in front of him, blocking him, throwing her shoulder against his chest, pushing him back.
Fuck, he’d forgotten how strong she was.
Planting his feet, he braced against the force of her, grabbing her arms in an attempt to steady them both. For a moment, she complied, something in her visage softening. He had no time to analyze what it meant, ducking low and sweeping his foot against her boot to throw her off balance. With a yelp, she stumbled, then righted herself by grabbing hold of the pedestal.
It only gained him a single second, maybe two, but he wouldn’t waste them. He launched himself across the pit, rushing toward the dagger with a burst of speed he hadn’t known himself capable of. He snatched it up, angling the pointed tip at his chest.
A blur of periwinkle flashed past his vision before a blow to his temple had stars bursting behind his eyes. He felt the dagger being pulled from his grip. With a wince, he forced his sight to clear long enough to take in the ethereal figure floating before him. Elyria hovered in the air, wings flared, a vision of shimmering purple and green. He leapt for her, catching her around the waist and yanking her downward before she could fly away.
“I have to do this,” Cedric grunted as she tried to free herself from his grip, spinning in his arms, the dagger still in her hand. “You know it has to be me.”
She growled, elbowing him hard in the ribs. The air rushed from his lungs, but he did not let go. Instead, he hauled her backward, using his greater weight to keep her grounded, even as her wings flapped against his pull.
They crashed to the floor in a tangled heap, Cedric twisting mid-fall so his back hit the stone first, pulling her on top of him. The dagger went flying, once more clattering against the stone.
“Let go!” Elyria hissed, voice ragged, desperate. They were both panting now, breaths coming in too short and too long, too shallow and too deep.
Pain flared across his jaw as she landed another hit.
“Stop it!” With one arm still wrapped around her waist, he managed to pin both her wrists in one hand, gripping them tight in an attempt to hold her still. “You have to let me do this.”
Her chest heaved as she glared down at him. “I’m not letting you die for me.”
Shadows danced along the edge of Cedric’s vision, curling around his arms and legs, binding him in place until she could extricate herself from his hold.
“Elyria!” he yelled, struggling against her shadows as she leapt to her feet and ran for the dagger again.
Two could play at this game, he decided, and this time, when he called upon that spark in his chest, it ignited. Her binding shadows burned away in a flash of white-gold flame.
Elyria stopped in her tracks, the briefest flicker of wonder and something a little bit like pride overtaking the fury on her face. It was just enough of a distraction for Cedric to scramble to his feet and quickly catch up to her, yanking her back by her leathers before she reached the dagger.
Her back hit his chest, his hand accidentally skimming the edge of one of her silken wings as he pivoted from behind her. She gasped, chest heaving as they stood there, face-to-face, something unnamed hanging in the inches between them.
For one breathless moment they were still, their hearts hammering against the silence of night. And then he was racing past her, lunging for the weapon once more, only for a ribbon of black smoke to surge forward and snatch it from him.
