His brows shot up. “What’s that?”
“Elle—Elyria. She’s all right.”
He shifted in his seat. “I didn’t ask.”
She shrugged and took another large bite. Cedric suspected the fruit was hiding a rather smug grin.
“Can I ask you a question?” he asked after a moment.
Kit arched a brow. “I don’t know, can you?”
He bit his bottom lip. “I’m not sure if it’s considered impertinent.”
“Spit it out, knightling.”
“Your wings.”
“What about them?”
“Well, you, Gael, Cyren . . . I’ve noticed you all keep yours, er, out quite a lot more than . . .”
“Than Elyria?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
Kit’s tongue darted to the outside of her lip to snatch an errant speck of apple. She seemed to be debating with herself. “It’s not myplace to explainherexact reasons why, but generally speaking, a fae’s wings are sensitive, easy to injure.”
“A liability in a fight,” Cedric said. That made sense. Elyria approached life as though a battle might erupt at any moment. He supposed that, for her, it often did.
His mind went to the scars on her legs, a bolt of anger tearing through him. She’d tried to play it off like it was nothing. But he saw the flash of panic, the pain simmering behind those jeweled eyes. He knew better. And the thought of what Raefe did to her, the lingering scars he left on her—physically and otherwise—made Cedric’s chest feel hot.
He had no real reason to be incensed. No right. But he was, nonetheless. And he knew whatever punishment Elyria had already meted out on the man who marked her could not possibly have been enough.
Kit nodded, though if she had any inclination of the dark path his thoughts had gone down, she didn’t show it. “Some keep them hidden for that reason. But just as I imagine humans have varying tastes and preferences”—she looked Cedric up and down with amusement—“different fae feel differently. For most, it’s not worth the drain on their magic to keep their wings concealed all the time. That’s how I feel about it, anyway.”
Gold shimmered as she flared her wings wide before folding them neatly against her back.
“I see,” Cedric said.
“But for some...” Kit glanced around as if ensuring nobody was listening. “When fae are involved romantically, intimately...When it’s a deep,significantsort of relationship, wings can take on a new meaning. And after one has felt their soulmate’s wingtouch, it can be...challenging to stomach the idea of anyone else touching them.” Her face fell. “Even after they are no longer together. Even if one of them...” She cleared her throat. “Elle is particularly protective of her wings.”
Something tightened in Cedric’s chest. A spark of pity, yes, but something else, too. “So, the two of you...?”
“Four hells, no!” Kit made a gagging sound, and Cedric couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s like my sister. It was my brother who—” She cut herself off. “It’s not important. I’ve already said too much.”
Cedric tried to project cool confidence despite thewild churn of his emotions. They were flipping back and forth so rapidly, he thought the second trial might’ve stolen a bit of his sanity along with his innocence. Curiosity, fascination, sympathy, relief...and had that beenjealousypushing in on his chest before?
That couldn’t be right.
“Rest assured, you’ve barely said anything at all,” he told Kit, forcing a smile. “But thank you. This has been illuminating.”
The corner of Kit’s mouth quirked up. “Just don’t tell her anything I barely said, all right?”
He placed a solitary finger against his mouth. “My lips are sealed.”
“Well,fuck me right over the Chasm,” Thraigg said with a low whistle from just beyond the open bedroom door.
Zephyr wrinkled her nose at the dwarf’s words as she helped Cedric fasten his vambraces to his forearms.
