For whatever reason, the celestials or fate or the stars-damned Arcane Crucible itself seemed determined to push the two of them together.
To what end, she couldn’t say. All she knew was that whatever dark and ancient thing she held within her seemed to recognize something in him—something that made her feel both drawn to and repelled by the knight in equal measure.
Elyria and Cedric watched each other for a moment, the air between them charged.
“Can’t sleep?” Her voice was low as she cracked the silence.
Cedric let out a humorless laugh. “After all that? Not sure I’ll ever sleep again.”
She slid onto the bench beside him, her brow arched. “The great Sir Cedric Thorne, scared of a little shut eye? What is the world coming to?”
One side of his lip curved up in a sad sort of smile. “Everything really has turned upside down in here, hasn’t it?”
Elyria didn’t know what to say to that. She cleared her throat. “What are you doing out here?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, really. Needed to get away from Thraigg’s snoring. Zephyr’s too.”
Elyria snorted. “Now, I can see that from the dwarf. He has the look of someone who rivals a blacksmith’s bellows when he sleeps. But are we talking about the same Zephyr? Sweet, petite sylvan gal?”
“She’s worse than Thraigg,” Cedric whispered conspiratorially, his smile finally reaching his eyes.
A giggle slipped from Elyria’s mouth. Something flickered over Cedric’s face at the sound, and she felt suddenly self-conscious.
“And how exactly did the three of you end up bunking together again?” she asked, eager to move past the moment. “You should have had your pick of rooms.”
“Just lucky, I suppose. Neither of them would leave me aloneafter that display back there.” He leaned back with a sigh, though she thought he already seemed lighter, less weary than he had been when she first approached. “Thraigg’s thoroughly inebriated state didn’t do much to help matters. And Zephyr, altruistic little thing that she is, didn’t think it was very champion-like to leave an incredibly drunk, incrediblyhandsydwarf to his own devices.” He tilted his head and gave her a knowing look.
Another giggle escaped. Elyria clapped her hand over her mouth.
“It’s not funny,” he protested.
She dropped her hand. “Oh, come now. It’s a little bit funny,” she said, elongating the words so that they came out as a lilting melody.
Something clicked into place behind Cedric’s eyes. “Ah,” he said.
Elyria’s brows drew together. “What?”
He chuckled. “I thought I heard singing before. And just now...It was you, wasn’t it?”
“You heard that?” Elyria fought the urge to bury her face in her hands.
“Is that what you’re doing out here? Kit got fed up with your singing keeping her up?” he teased.
“Firstly, Kit sleeps like the dead. She’s always been able to sleep throughanything. And secondly, I’ll have you know that my singing is rather in demand. Folks often came to The Sweltering Pig just to hear little old me.”
“The Sweltering Pig?”
“Best cider and third-best ale in all Coralith.” She leaned back with a stretch of her arms, linking her hands behind her head. A smile twitched at her lips. “Artie says that?—”
She cut herself off at the way Cedric suddenly stilled, as if every cell in his body froze in place. He was looking down.
She followed his line of sight.
Right to where her sleeping dress had ridden up, exposing the checkerboard of scars emblazoned on top of both her thighs.
The air grew thick, a heady sludge that Elyria struggled to pull into her lungs.
“What happened?” His voice was low, almost menacing.
