Murderer, his brain screamed at him.Butcher. His tongue darted over the scar on his lip, his mana token glowing warm against his chest. He suddenly thought he understood how Lord Church had been able to snap that bandit’s neck so easily—Cedric’s palms itched with the temptation to do the same now. He thought it might be worth risking the celestials’ wrath to do it.
Barely six winters at the time, Cedric’s memory of the night his parents died was a blur of chaos and fear. He remembered the acrid smell of smoke, the bright blaze of fire. The hard, coldedge of steel pressed to his mouth—a threat to get him to stop crying. The sharp sting of the dagger slicing through his lip when he hadn’t been able to.
But through the haze of terror and rage, one part of that night had burned itself into his mind. Two words that had stuck with him through each of the twenty-two years that had passed since:The Revenant.
“Howdareyou show your face here?” Cedric was trembling with rage. He clenched his fists at his side to keep himself from reaching for his sword or token.
Elyria’s expression was cold and unyielding. “Do not presume to speak of things you knownothingof.”
“I know plenty,” he snapped, taking another step toward her.
He thought she would match the motion, moving back to maintain the distance between them. But the murderous witch did the opposite.
She steppedforward,jutting her chin up defiantly as Cedric stared daggers at her. “And what, exactly, is it you think you know?”
The rich, sweet scent of bitter almonds filled Cedric’s nose—sugar and poison. “You killed my family,” he spat. “Broke into our home and slaughtered my parents. I should cut you down where you stand.”
Elyria blinked. Her brow furrowed slightly, a change in her unyielding demeanor so infinitesimal, Cedric thought he might have imagined it.
And then, as he gaped in disbelief, shelaughed.
But it wasn’t humor pouring from her mouth. It was venom.
“I’ve killed many humans, to be sure. Most of them were probably someone’s father or mother. But breaking into some human hovel to murder your parents in cold blood?” She bit her lip in a farcical show of deliberation. “Yeah, doesn’t sound like me. Sorry.”
“I wasthere, Revenant. I might have been but a child, but I remember the night my parents were killed.I heard your name.”
The cold mask slithered back over Elyria’s face. “You heard my name,” she repeated blankly.
Cedric stared at her.
“Convenient, isn’t it,” she said, her tone hard, “how easily a name can be used to disguise the truth?”
A spark of confusion cut through Cedric’s anger. “What truth?” he demanded. “That you’re not the dark butcher everyone knows you to be?”
Her mouth curved into a cruelly beautiful smile. “Who knows?Maybe it was me. Maybe I’ve simply forgotten.”
“You mock me.”
A single shrill laugh pierced the air. “Of course I’m mocking you. When you go flinging around wild accusations without substance or reason, why shouldn’t I? Now, I’ve done many things in my many years in this world. Not all of them pleasant, not all of them right”—her gaze flicked to Kit—“but I can tell you that not once have I had any interest in participating in the slaughter of some inconsequential human family. That said, by all means, Sir Knight. Do go ahead and keep believing it was me.”
She tracked her eyes up and down his body, and Cedric could have sworn her gaze burned straight through his armor.
“Whatever helps you rest your head at night,” she finished, turning away from him in dismissal.
His palms heated, the urge to lash out overwhelming. From the side of his eye, he could see Hargrave and Thibault watching him. He suspected Lord Church was close to them, undoubtedly displeased with Cedric’s display.
He found he couldn’t bring himself to care.
A commotion drew Cedric’s attention. The contemptuous energy had started to spread to the other champions. Leona Blackwood and the ginger twins were heckling Gael and her two companions. One of them, a fae with shock-white hair, spat an insult at the siblings, making Gael laugh.
“You think you’re so funny, with your little quips and jokes. But I’ve had just about enough of you,” the ginger-haired sister said, pointing accusingly at Gael.
“It’s well past time you shut up, you knife-eared freak,” said her brother.
“Knife ears, huh?” Gael snickered. “Come up with that all by yourself, did you?”
“I said, shut...up!” Shocked cries rang out around the hall as a bolt of magic shot from the brother’s hands. Gael sidestepped it with a casualness that made the attack seem like it was nothing more than a nuisance.
