Who washe? Varyth Malchior? Pieces of Cedric and Zephyr’s time in the Sanctum knit together in his reeling mind, a quilt woven from each moment that informed her betrayal. He was suddenly examining every interaction they’d had since the moment he saved her from the gnarlings.
His thoughts stuttered. Had even that been manufactured? Her screams of terror, the gushing wound on her leg? Cedric stared at the spot where the eagle had disappeared, an image clawing at him. The green-tinged hide of the beast that had clawed Dissidua Pyr to death. He’d thought it a trick of the light, the reflection of the aurora overhead. He recalled the howl of pain as his sword sliced into the creature. Into itsleg.
It was her.
She’d been playing Cedric from theinstanthe entered the Crucible, watching him, waiting for him. She killed Dissidua. Used the very injury Cedric had unknowingly given her to play on his sympathies. And he fell for her entire act. He had taken every shy smile he coaxed from her at face value. Thehurtshe’d exuded after his attempt to ally with the other human champions. Every anxious look, all that nervous wringing of her hands. He’d thought them indications that she actually cared about his wellbeing. Cared forhim.That they were allies.
Worse, that they were friends.
Through sacrifice, darkness, and friendship betrayed.
Not once had he thought she was using him as a means to an end, pushing him to conquer the Crucible so that there would be a crown for her to steal. Had she known what the price of gaining said crown was when she propelled him toward it? Known that either he or Elyria would have to die in order to claim the final prize?
“It has to be you two...Take this to the end. For all of us.”
Of course, she knew. Surely, if she was working under Varyth’s command, she knewexactlywhat to expect all along. He thought of her shock at seeing the pair of them reemerge after the final trial. Her utter disbelief.
She hadn’t failed to fully heal Kit, Thraigg, and Nox after the battle with Evander because her magic was spent. She’d done it to keep them weak. To prevent them from being able to overpower her when the moment inevitably came for her to strike. For her to play her final hand.
Cedric turned, heat building in every stomp of his boots as he returned to the other champions by the Gate. Thraigg was still supporting a flagging Kit, both wearing identical expressions of appalled astonishment. Even Nox’s typically unflappable face was scrunched with contemplation, as if they didn’t understand what just happened.
Elyria clutched her injured hand tightly in the other, pressing the hem of her blouse upon it to stem the bleeding. Rage flared in Cedric’s chest at the sight, though the wound Zephyr had slashed into her skin in order to pry the crown loose didn’t look deep.
One look at Elyria’s stony expression might have convinced others she was fine. A flesh wound. Just a scratch. But the pain in her eyes belied her stoicism. It mirrored the betrayal Cedric was sure shone in his own.
“We have to go after her,” Elyria shouted. Shouted, because the stunned silence that had befallen the crowd was quickly fading, another wave of uncertainty taking over.
“What is this?”
“Arcanian traitors! They’ve stolen the crown!”
“You saw the way she exchanged words with the human victor. She’s working for them!”
Another pulse of celestial power from Aurelia had their cries trapped in their throats, though the most vocal amongst them looked decidedly displeased about it. Cedric could see the restlessness in theeyes of those still present, the doubt creeping into their expressions as they exchanged wary glances. The celebration was over. Many spectators turned on their heels and stormed out of the hall, the start of an exodus that Cedric hoped wasn’t a mistake. Who knew what tales and rumors would be spun from what they witnessed here.
“She is long gone already, I fear,” said Aurelia, a simmering rage in her many voices that made the hair on the back of Cedric’s neck stand on end. He understood her fury. Without their half of the crown, they had no way to find the other piece. And very soon, Varyth Malchior would.
A knot formed in Cedric’s throat. “What do we do now?”
“We can’t just let her get away,” Kit said, voice weak. Cedric’s blood burned at the sight of her, still feeble, still hurting. The knowledge that Zephyr had purposefully let her suffer like this stoked the furnace inside him.
“She’s a fucking bird,” Thraigg said with a grunt, shifting his weight so that he could support Kit more fully. “And alas, we aren’t the ones who can fly, lass.”
“I doubt you are in much of a state to do that either,” Nox added.
Kit’s answering nod was resigned. “Go, Ellie,” she said. “Find her. Get it back. Without it, we can’t?—”
Elyria shook her head. “You need a healer. I stay with you.”
“But—”
“I stay. With you.” Her voice was resolute, her jaw tight, muscles tense. Cedric knew there would be no changing her mind. He understood what she must have been thinking, that she had already left too much of Kit’s health and recovery up to others. Relied on others,trustedothers. Trusted Zephyr. She would not leave her again.
“Is there nothing you can do?” Elyria’s head snapped to Aurelia, still standing a few paces away from the champions. “Can you trace the crown? Use your power to track her?”
Beneath her thick white robes, the celestial’s shoulders sagged. “My domain is the Sanctum, not the world beyond,” she said, multi-tonal voice distant, detached. Like her focus—her very presence—was fading now that the Crucible was complete. “I cannot pursue her.”
“Then tell us what to do.” Cedric couldn’t keep the panic from his voice. He jerked his eyes around the now mostly empty hall. OnlyTristan, Hargrave, and Thibault, along with a handful of other observers, still loitered by the doors. The trio caught Cedric’s eye, perhaps seeing the desperation in his gaze, and started moving toward him. “We don’t know where she would be headed, where Varyth Malchior is. You must knowsomething?—”
