“Now, wait just a?—”
“Arcanians are not tools to be used and tossed aside. We arepeople. You do not get to use Zephyr to watch your back and heal your injuries, only to discard her at your earliest convenience.”
“I did no such thing. I would nev?—”
“And aligning yourself with otherhumans”—the word dripped with disdain—“with little regard for how their attitudes and actions might affect those of us who might’ve been otherwise predisposed to ally with you is just shit decision making. Ergo, fool.” She seemed to consider what she’d said before clarifying, “And by ‘us,’ I mean Arcanians as a whole, of course. Not ‘us’ as in me, specifically.”
“I never would have presumed otherwise,” Cedric said, his pulse ticking in his jaw from how hard he clenched his teeth. He wanted to argue, wanted to tell her she waswrong. But her words were a confirmationof the thoughts he’d already begun to form on his own.
Whatever vestiges of warmth might have lingered in Cedric’s chest evaporated like water in a too-hot pan.
“Zephyr can handle herself,” he said, though the words sounded weak even in his own ears.
Elyria scoffed. “Can she? A talented healer, she may be. But she’s hardly a warrior like you or me. And she shouldn’t have to be. Lunara only knows why she’s even here in the first place. And now you’ve aligned with those who would make her a target. I don’t know what the rest of this stars-forsaken Crucible may hold, but what happens when they turn on her? Will you turn as well?”
Cedric tried to ignore how his pulse stuttered at the way she’d casually equated the two of them. Warriors like her, aside from her, didn’t exist. Of that, he felt sure. And after the way the Trial of Strength had ended...Was she being sarcastic?
“I’ve aligned with no one,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’m not the same as?—”
Elyria cut him off with a noncommittal noise. “You really think you’re different, don’t you? You’re not.” Her eyes bore into him as she raked them up and down his body, lingering for the briefest moment at the token hanging against his chestplate. “You’re just like the rest ofyour kind—using the land for its magic. Using its people like we’re nothing. And I’m...You know what? I don’t care.” And before he could say anything else, she spun on her heels and strode away.
Cedric stood there, gaping at Elyria’s retreating back, the sting of her words lingering on his skin like a bruise. He hated the look on her face as she walked away, so assured that she was right.
He hated that shewasright.
He cast his gaze about the room, looking for Zephyr. The sylvan healer had slunk into a corner, busying herself with the pouches and herbs in her belt. Cedric’s mind was noisy—a confusing mix of overlapping emotions. Guilt. Gratitude. Irritation. That one was solely directed at Elyria, of course.
Hewasgrateful, not only for Zephyr’s help in the arena but for her calming aura. For the way she’d pushed past her own reticence to ally with him. Perhaps he should have been more guarded about thealliance, too, but there was something about the sylvan that made Cedric feel at ease. Not once had the thought crossed his mind to discard her.
But he also hadn’t thought through the implications of what his association with her meant for his original plans to establish alliances with the other human champions. That they might hold his willingness to adhere to the Arbiter’s guidance against him. Or rather, that they’d hold it against her.
A fool, Elyria called him. He certainly felt like one. He thought he could remain steadfast, focused. Unbothered by the more trivial side of these human-Arcanian interactions. Cedric’s goal was the crown, by whatever means necessary. But just one trial in, and already the Crucible was changing so much for him.
Was changing . . . him.
Drawing a deep breath, Cedric turned away...only to find himself standing chest-to-face with Thraigg. The dwarf had his thick arms crossed over his broad chest, studying Cedric with a calculating look in his steely blue eyes.
Cedric tensed, unsure about how to react. He supposed he should thank the man—he had aided him not once, but twice against the dragon. On the other hand, there was still the question of why he had done so.
“On with it, boyo,” Thraigg rumbled, his voice as gravelly as the stone beneath their feet.
“Pardon me?”
“Ye’ve got the look of a man with questions. Ask them.”
Cedric blinked. The dwarf was direct, he’d give him that. Perceptive and direct. “I’m just...surprised,” he said. “About what you did back there. In the arena.”
“Aye,” Thraigg said warily. “What about it?”
“You had a clear path to the archway. You didn’t need to fight. Didn’t need to get involved with the dragon at all.”
“Yer point?”
“So . . . why did you?”
Thraigg’s beard shook as his lips curled into a knowing smile, the coins and metal beads braided into his hair jangling jovially. “Ye’d be right in thinking I’ve no love for reckless knights, let alone human ones,” he said. “But far be it from me to question the commands of the Divine.”
“The Divine?”
