Her next laugh died in her throat as her vision went suddenly blurry. For a moment, she saw luminous golden eyes, a curl of dark hair across a strong brow, wings of deepest black and glittering gold.
She grasped at the image as if she could cement it in her mind. As if it weren’t a picture of a ghost. A pang of longing stabbed her chest, sharp and painful. She could almost feel Evander’s breath, warm on her skin. Could almost hear the whisper of his voice in her ear. It cut through the drink-induced haze in her mind.
The sound of the tavern door slamming snagged her attention, and Elyria cursed. In the few seconds she’d lost herself to whatever visionjust overtook her, most of the tavern’s patrons had fled.
Most, but not all.
Raefe and three of his thugs remained—the men. Something uncomfortable pricked at the back of Elyria’s mind. She wondered where the women had gone. Standing watch outside, she supposed. Or maybe Elyria had wounded them badly enough that they had simply fled. As she observed the four men, huddled by the door, leering at Elyria, she regretted that.
The gold links in their tapered ears gleamed in the firelight as they traded tense whispers. Elyria frowned. The men were clearly strategizing about the best way to bring her down. Ten minutes prior, she would have welcomed the challenge. She had wanted to draw this out, give them a good show, have a little fun.
But that vision was . . . unexpected.
And Elyria didn’t feel like fighting anymore.
Her eyes found Artie’s and she made a show of looking deliberately at the tavern’s back door. As irritated as his constant scoldings might make her, she was fond of the old dwarf. He needed to clear out—she didn’t want him getting hurt when she did what she had to do.
Artie rolled his eyes but took cover behind the bar.
Good enough.
Power hummed in her ears as Elyria raised a hand, calling upon her wild magic to bring this to a quick end.
The ground shook. Wood groaned. Dust drifted from the rafters.
And that was it.
Elyria looked at her hand and sighed. Perhaps she’d had one too many after all. The earth below the tavern floor was refusing to answer her call.
A taunt cut through the din. “This is the might of the Revenant?” jeered Raefe. “We’re truly to believe this waste of wings took down three dozen cultists during the Battle of Luminaria?”
“Guess the tart’s become sloppy over the decades,” said one of the men, cracking his knuckles as he leered at Elyria.
She bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from snorting. He wasn’t nearly as intimidating as she knew he was trying to be.
Raefe, on the other hand, was a walking column of menace. Hehuffed a laugh, teeth bared in a bloodstained grin as he stalked toward Elyria. Blood dripped from his nose—the effect of her previous punch.
At least she’d made good on that promise.
He didn’t seem to care. “When word reached Master Tartanis that the mighty Revenant had been spotted back in Coralith, he couldn’t believe his good luck. Neither could I believe mine, when he sent me to track you down. Imagine my disappointment to instead find a waif spinning musical yarns on stage before getting pissed in this hellscape of a tavern.”
Elyria tamped down the growing discomfort in her gut and forced a grin. “You should be thanking the stars the cider tonight was so sweet, or this would have been over before it began.”
She hopped off the table and planted her feet on the ground, bracing for the rush of bodies that were surely about to come her way.
They didn’t.
Instead, Elyria felt the air around her grow thin. She suddenly couldn’t take in breath fast enough. Her vision started to go black at the edges. She reached out to grab hold of something, to steady herself, and recoiled when her fingers found nothing but the sweaty arm of one of her attackers.
Through her bleary vision, she saw two of the men with their hands outstretched—Raefe had brought a near army of stars-damned stormbenders with him tonight.
“Ch-cheater,” she stammered as the tavern spun around her. Then, without warning, air whooshed back into her lungs as the men let their magic die down. Elyria gulped down a greedy breath, unable to do anything more before the man nearest to her took hold of her wrists. She yelped as another wrapped his meaty hands around her ankles. The third righted the upended table and Elyria was slammed upon it, the wood groaning under her back.
“Such a disappointment,” Raefe said again, towering over Elyria as he stood next to the table. “Not only have you dashed our dreams of witnessing the legendary Revenant in all her supposed glory, but the fight barely even lasted long enough to count as entertainment.” He dabbed at his nose again, his expression darkening. “Sing for us again, then. Your power may have underwhelmed, but I concede I ratherenjoyed your performance earlier. You do have alovelyvoice.”
Something about the way he said that made Elyria never want to sing another note again.
“Maybe another time,” she managed to grit out. “I think I’ve had just about enough for tonight.” Her glare roved over the faces of the men pinning her down, committing each of them to memory. “And I don’t think your boss will be too happy with you roughing up his prize,” she added.
