And Elyria heard her heart beating in her ears when it started to pump again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she said.
Because there, armored arms crossed tight over his chest, lips pressed into a hard line, was Sir Cedric Thorne.
20
THE SECOND TRIAL
CEDRIC
“You’re not Zephyr.”The room was unnervingly silent as Cedric and the Revenant gaped at each other. She blinked at him, her green eyes lit with streaks of silver that danced in the light seeping from the torches along the walls.
The Arbiter’s announcement had brought chaos, to be sure, but hadn’t Zephyr been right behind him? He’d presumed their conversation yesterday meant they’d be pairing up to tackle this next trial—she had called him “partner”—but perhaps the sylvan had chosen a different door? Or was this some new, cruel trick of the Crucible—instructing the champions to trust each other, only to pair up those least inclined to do so? Why did it have to beher?
You’re not Zephyr.Mentally, Cedric smacked himselfupside the head. Maybe Elyria didn’t notice just how stupid that sounded.
She noticed.
“Is that your power?” She inclined her head at the token hanging from Cedric’s neck. “The magic of stating the obvious?”
He scowled. “You should save some of that quick wit for the trial itself. And speaking of...”
Elyria arched a brow. “What, no time for pleasantries?”
“Do illuminate me as to what part of this could possibly be construed as pleasant.”
Something zipped through Cedric’s center at the sight of Elyria’s pursed mouth quivering, as if she fought a grin.
He cleared his throat. “The sooner we get through this trial, the sooner we cease being...together. Might as well get on with it.”
“Get on with what?” She waved her arms animatedly, gesturing to the empty room. “There’s nothing here.”
Cedric looked pointedly over Elyria’s head, where the painted vines on the wall had started to glow.
“For fuck’s sake. Another archway, another gate?” she muttered. “Can they truly not come up with anything more creative?” A shimmer rippled across the wall as Elyria neared it.
Something about it made Cedric shudder. “I don’t think this is the same kind of gate.” Instead of glowing with the ethereal, inviting light Cedric had already become accustomed to, the section of flat walltransformed. Like alchemy, the stone between the edges of the painted frame melted into liquid gold.
“Well, this is new.” Elyria’s reflection stared back at the two champions—a golden mirror. She studied it, a soft melody falling from her lips, almost absentmindedly. She drew her staff from her back.
“I wouldn’t”—Cedric began, just as the end of her staff tapped the mirror—“touch that.” He sighed. “What is wrong with you?”
Elyria shot him an unimpressed look. “It’s called curiosity. I know it may be difficult for you to imagine with that stick up your ass, but it’s a perfectly normal?—”
“Riiiiiight,” he cut her off, drawing out the vowel. “What part of this entire thing is normal, again?”
She leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting her warped reflection fora moment before turning to face Cedric. “You tell me. Word around the Sanctum is that you’ve been preparing for the Crucible since you were knee-high to a gryphon. Youarethedarling of Lord Leviathan Church,are you not?” She grinned, a glint in her eye that made the air in the room seem suddenly thin.
He didn’t like that teasing twinkle. Didn’t like the way it made him feel—warm and a little bit itchy. He also didn’t like hearing Lord Church’s name come out of her mouth, how it made the world that existed outside the Sanctum come crashing in on them here. The knowledge that he was in here, forced to work withher, while Lord Church waited for him out there made Cedric’s stomach twist uncomfortably.
It took him a moment to realize Elyria was waiting for his response.
“Something like that,” he muttered. “But that doesn’t mean I can speak to whether this qualifies as a typical experience.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.” The air between them grew suddenly very still.
