Thraigg’s beard jingled again as his chest rose and fell with low laughter. “Who do ye think runs this show, boyo? The celestials might say they’re not able to interfere in the affairs of us wee mortals, but their touch is all over the Crucible. And if their mouthpiece says unity is the name of this game, well then, slap my arse and call me ‘brother.’”
Cedric didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl at the dwarf’s crassness. “Their mouthpiece? You mean the Arbiter.”
“Aye. So, when I saw ye and yer little green friend in the arena, cowering like daisies in a rioting wind?—”
“I didn’t cower,” Cedric mumbled under his breath.
“—the Arbiter’s voice was an avalanche in my head. ‘Unity, unity, unity,’ it chanted. And I went ahead andunifiedmy hammer with some dragon scales.” He chortled at his joke.
Brow furrowed, Cedric considered Thraigg’s words. “That’s it, then? You feltcalledto help me? Forgive my skepticism, but you simply do not seem the humanitarian type.”
“Ain’t charity, lad. I’ve no patience for that kind of nonsense. I’ve my own reasons and none of them involve seeing ye roasted alive. But I don’t play games ‘less I plan on winning. Aye, I did what I did back there. Don’t make me regret it.” With that, the dwarf moseyed off, snatching a pitcher from one of the nearby tables as he ambled toward the doors.
“Duly noted,” Cedric muttered at his back, unable to hold in a smirk. For some reason, the exchange left him feeling strangely grounded—like some part of him was beginning to settle, like he’d found an anchor amidst this sea of uncertainty.
Everyone in here was playing the game. They were in it to win, but if they had to go by the Arbiter’s rules—had to hold hands and skip merrily until the Crucible called for them to show their teeth to one another—they would.
He looked at his fellow human champions, strategizing together in one corner of the room, and frowned. Perhaps not everyone was so willing to play together.
Elyria was a study in tension when Cedric’s gaze found her again, hauling Kit to her feet and ushering her toward one of the doors at theback of the chamber. Her scowl had softened, but the anger in her eyes had yet to fade. Cedric could still see the hard set of her jaw, the way her fingers twitched as if itching for a fight. Part of him hoped that Belien or Leona—or hells, Alden—would say something to her again, just to see what she’d do.
Alas, she and Kit disappeared behind one of the doors without incident.
Cedric approached Zephyr, whose earlier warmth was already replaced with guarded caution. Guilt churned in Cedric’s belly.
“Zephyr,” he began, doing his best to keep his voice soft. “I...I feel as though I owe you an apology.”
Her eyes widened, clearly caught off guard. “Why? For what?”
“For earlier. I put you in a position you didn’t ask for by making moves to link up with Alden. I didn’t realize he had already formed some kind of alliance with Belien. And I...I should have talked to you first. Should have understood you might be unlikely to want to associate with the most vocally bigoted champions in here.” He offered a lopsided grin—an attempt to ease the tension.
“There is nothing to apologize for,” she protested, but Cedric noted the way her shoulders relaxed—just a fraction. “It’s not as if you and I had entered into some kind of formal alliance ourselves. We were more of a wrong place, wrong time kind of match up.” She grinned, though it was fleeting as she went on to add, “I understand if you’d want to part ways.”
“Preposterous,” Cedric said. “We’re a formidable pair, remember?”
She visibly brightened. “Right.”
Cedric breathed a sigh of relief. It felt like a step in the right direction, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still missing something.
The many voices of the Arbiter echoed in his head.“Without unity, you will fail.”
Was this unity? Was this enough? As hate-filled emerald eyes blanketed his vision, Cedric didn’t think it was.
Almost as if being pulled by a force outside of himself, his head tilted in the direction of the door Elyria had just walked through.
“You two...you have some kind of history?” Zephyr asked,following his gaze. Her voice was soft, tentative, like she knew she was touching on something fragile. Cedric wasn’t sure how to respond. Could it be considered history if one of the parties had been utterly unaware of the other’s existence until today? Was it history if everything he thought he knew was crumbling around him?
He settled for a shrug, doing his best to seem indifferent.
Zephyr pressed her lips together, like she was trying to contain a grin. “Looks like everyone’s retiring. Shall we head off for the night then, partner?”
Cedric nodded. Tomorrow would bring the next trial and a whole new set of crises. So tonight...Tonight, he would rest. He would think. And he would try to figure out what he was truly fighting for.
19
WOULD’VE, COULD’VE, SHOULD’VE
ELYRIA
