“What’s it?” Kit asked.
“Unity.”
Belien groaned. “Not this shit again.”
Elyria shot him a silencing look. “I don’t think I’mmeantto be able to get through on my own. None of us are. The Arbiter’s been shoving the idea that we all need to work together down our throats this entire time. What for, if not to ensure we thought to actually, you know, do so when the need arose?”
“What are you saying, exactly?” Gael asked.
“‘Unity is the key.’ That’s what the Arbiter said. If we want to unlock this trial, I think we need to work together—truly together.”
“And how exactly do you propose we do that?” Cedric’s baritone unexpectedly soared into Elyria’s ear as he came up next to her. She suppressed a shiver.
Swallowing hard, Elyria took in the looks on her fellow champions’faces—hopeful, eager, wary...except for the two wearing matching expressions of irritation. “It’s the Trial of Magic,” she said evenly. “I need you all to lend me your power.”
Silence stretched between the nine of them, so taut Elyria could have snapped it in half.
Then Leona laughed—a mirthless sound.
“You’re dreaming, pixie,” said Belien. “Over my dead body.”
“Your reaction shocks me,” Gael deadpanned.
“Ignore them,” said Kit. “You have my magic, Ellie.”
“And mine,” said Cyren and Gael together.
Thraigg grunted. “Aye.”
“Whatever I can give,” added Zephyr meekly.
“Yes,” said Nox.
Then, as if they’d purposefully synchronized it, each champion turned toward Cedric in one fluid movement.
Elyria noted the tick in his jaw, as if even contemplating this—loaning her his magic—was causing him physical pain. She tried to see it from his perspective. Even after his informal alliances with Zephyr and Thraigg, and his begrudging truce with Elyria, the idea of merging magic was something else entirely. It opened him up to a new kind of vulnerability.
Golden brown eyes met Elyria’s.Please, she thought.Trust me.
Several tense seconds passed, and then he nodded.
Something throbbed in her chest.
Leona sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, as if horrified that her fellow human would agree to this.
“Do you know what to do?” Cedric asked.
Elyria nodded, a memory of Evander overtaking her for a split second—his golden eyes crinkling as a wry smile appeared on his handsome face. The way he confidently sliced open his palm, soothing her worries, assuring her that this is what soulmates did. How sharing their magic would prove that they belonged to each other.
She blinked the image away. “We have to”—she drew her dagger from her hip—“merge our blood.”
Cedric’s eyes widened as she took the pointed tip and dug it into her left palm. “Blood magic?”
Blood pooled in Elyria’s hand as she held it out. “Not the kind you’re thinking of. It’s notsanguinagimagic. There’s absolutely nothing nefarious about this, I assure you.”
“You’re sure?”
Elyria nodded. “I’ve done it before.” She flicked her eyes to Kit, then back to the knight. “Trust me.”
