Elyria deserved that, but the words cut, nonetheless.
“All right then, give me your best shot,Revenant.” Kit wielded the moniker like a weapon, hand braced on her hip. “Say what you’ve come to say, and then go back to wherever it is you’ve been hiding. You won’t change my mind.”
Elyria took a steadying breath. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why do you ask stupid questions?”
Elyria’s jaw ticked. She had forgotten how quickly Kit could get under her skin. “The Arcane Crucible is an unwinnable challenge. You’ll be throwing your life away, and for what? I beg you, don’t do this.” She hesitated, searching Kit’s face for any sign of softening. If anything, her expression only grew harder.
A different tactic then. “Think of your mother, ofyourpeople. You can’t just run into?—”
“Yes, well, you know a lot about running, don’t you?” Kit interrupted.
Elyria swallowed the ball of shame that attempted to lodge itself in her throat. Now was not the time to react defensively. She fisted her hands at her side, digging her fingernails into the flesh of her palm to keep from lashing out. “Yes, I do. I ran. Ran from my pain. Ran from my grief. And I won’t lie to you—I would still be running, if I could. But I’m here because?—”
“You think I didn’t feel pain? That I didn’t grieve? He was mybrother. My best friend in this world.” Mismatched eyes met Elyria’s for the briefest moment before Kit ripped them away.
Elyria heard the words left unspoken.My best friend in this world...aside from you.Her heart cracked. All that time spent mentally rehearsing, imagining this conversation from every angle, and she was utterly unequipped. She wasn’t sure anything could have prepared her for how this would go. For how this wouldfeel.
So, Elyria said nothing.
Her silence only fueled Kit’s rage-filled words. “And I am herebecauseof my people. With your talent for shutting yourself away, perhaps you have not noticed, but I have. I see the way my people strugglewith the Chasm. The cost of maintaining the bridges. The burden of crossing, even for those with the abilityto make the journey on their own.” She gestured to her wings, then to Elyria’s, still folded on her back. “Without the Midlands, we are half a realm. My brother believed in the power of the crown, in the magic it holds to heal this land. And if the humans steal it first...” Her expression turned grim. “I cannot allow it. And neither will I toss away my only chance to save him by?—”
An immense sadness pressed on Elyria’s chest. Savehim? “Kit.” Her voice was soft. “He is long since lost.”
Kit’s eyes became unfocused. “I see him, you know. In my dreams—my nightmares. He calls out for me. For our mother. For you. For anyone to help him. I see him with black eyes, bleeding. His wings a shredded mess.”
Elyria’s heart stuttered. “You—You’ve seen visions of him like this?”
Kit’s expression softened as her gaze refocused on Elyria, just for a moment. Then, it hardened again. She turned away. “I’m not crazy.”
“I never said you were.”
“And I am not a fool.”
“Kit, I?—”
“I know he no longer lives, Ellie.” Some of the tension in Elyria’s chest eased at hearing Kit call her that—the nickname only she ever used. “But neither is he at peace. It’s like his spirit is...trapped. He is being tormented in the Hereafter. Unable to move on because his work is not finished. And it will remain so until the Crucible is complete, the crown won. Maybe then, the ancient magic will deign to return his body to us, and he can finally rest.”
“Kit . . .”
“How can you ask me to ignore this chance to bring my brother peace?”
“At the cost of your own life? That is not what Evander would want.”
Kit whirled, her eyes blazing with anger. “Who are you to say what he would want? You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say his name.”
The words were a hot poker scraping through Elyria’s insides. Her eyes burned, but she continued. “He wouldn’t want you risking yourself. If he were still here?—”
“Well, he’snothere.” Kit was shaking now. “And you haven’t been either. The minute he was gone, so were you.”
“Please.” The inner corners of Elyria’s eyes pricked. “Don’t let his memory drive you to your death.”
“You knownothingabout what drives me!” As if acting on reflex, Kit raised her hand, and a burst of water slammed into Elyria.
Twenty-five years of pent-up anger and resentment poured from Kit’s hands. The attack was unexpected; it stunned Elyria, knocking her off balance. She hit the grass, ass-first, with an undignifiedthump. Yelps sounded as nearby travelers scattered.
Elyria grappled with what to do. She’d expected Kit would be angry—livid, irate even. She hadn’t expected her to lash out physically. And even if she had, shouldn’t the Crucible’s magic be stopping this? Wasn’t the whole point to prevent fights from breaking out before champions entered the Sanctum?
