The front door opened, and Young Shep and Jocelyn walked in on the heels of a wide-eyed boy who couldn’t have been more than fifteen.
“Ah, there you are,” boomed the innkeeper. “Perfect timing, Avery. The last of their rooms upstairs just need to be turned down.”
Avery nodded before bolting up the stairs, as if he couldn’t get out of there quickly enough.
“What have we missed?” Jocelyn asked when she arrived at theirbooth, lugging over a nearby chair and perching at the head of the table. Young Shep stood at her back, eyeing the paltry remains of their meal.
“Oh, go on, Shep,” Ollie said, pushing his mug toward him.
Young Shep grinned, tossed back his hood, and reached for the cup with a beige hand. It wasn’t until Elyria cleared her throat that Cedric realized he was staring. The glamour had held the entirety of their journey from Kingshelm, but Cedric was still working to reconcile the ginger-haired man in front of him with the green-skinned sylvan guard he knew Shep to be.
“Can we get another two bowls of stew for our friends?” Tristan called to the innkeeper, who gave a vigorous nod. When the man returned with two steaming bowls, Cedric rose from his seat and offered it to Young Shep.
“You don’t have to?—”
“Nonsense,” said Cedric. “You’ll need to sit if you want to eat. Besides, I think I’m just about ready to retire for the evening.”
“I think we all just might be,” Ollie said, and both Elyria and Tristan nodded their agreement.
“So quick they are to abandon us, aren’t they, Shep?” Jocelyn lamented, though she was grinning as she said it.
“I’m perfectly happy to nurse my drink while you two finish eating,” Sephone said. “And then, who knows? Perhaps I’ll join the boys in a game of cards. The night is yet young.”
“That it is,” said the innkeeper, drawing a keyring from his waist with a too-wide grin. “But for those of you who are in need of rest—and I don’t blame you after the long journey you’ve had—your rooms are ready. I’ve made sure to prepare the beds with our finest linens, of course. Scented everything with our finest oils. And baths are available for those who want them. Only the best for the victors of the Crucible.”
Cedric tried to hide his grimace as he stretched the stiffness from his limbs before following the man up the stairs. The upstairs hallway was small, just a narrow corridor lined with plain wooden doors, the planks on the floor creaking with age.
The innkeeper showed them to a room with four individual beds lined up along one wall, and Tristan and Ollie made quick work of each claiming the two beds closest to the window, flopping down with gusto.
“All right, guess that leaves these two for us.” Cedric turned toward Elyria. “Do you have a preference?”
“Oh, no,” the innkeeper said quickly. “Not for you two. It is our great honor to welcome the Lord and Lady Victors to our fair village. As I said, we’ve reserved our best for you.”
“Really, sharing this room is fine,” Cedric said. “We’d never expect private rooms anyway. It is truly not nece?—”
“This way, this way,” said the man, not breaking his stride. Cedric and Elyria exchanged a look but followed after a moment.
The innkeeper pointed to a room halfway down the corridor, and as they passed they could see Avery bustling about inside. “This is our other guest room, and between the two there should be just enough beds for your party. But for you,” he said, continuing to the end of the hallway, “we have this.”
He pushed a brass key into the lock of the door, turning the doorknob with a flourish. The door swung open, revealing a secondary, tiny alcove, with two more doors lined up beyond it.
Pushing open the door on the right, the innkeeper gestured for them to enter. It was a small, nicely appointed room, with a crackling fireplace and a single bed next to the window. “Thought you might appreciate a corner room, my lady. Bit more privacy. Lovely view, when the stars come out.”
Cedric drew into the room with a shrug, shoving his hands in his pockets to try and hide the way they had begun to shake. He strode over to the bed, excitement thrumming in his veins at the thought of getting to spend the night with Elyria—even if it was their last night. Or, perhaps,becauseit was.
Said excitement was only slightly interrupted when a large swath of shadows suddenly materialized in the center of the bed. Sid stepped out of the darkness, took one look at Cedric with her head tilted, and promptly curled up against the footboard.
“Given the, er, occupancy limitations here, I’m fine to sleep on the floor,” Cedric offered, noting how Sid was big enough now that her smokey form took up a solid chunk of the bed. Elyria made an exasperated noise at the shadowcat, her eyes rolling so far back he thought they might have made a full rotation in her head.
A barked laugh sounded from the doorway before Cedric could muster a response, however.
“Oh, my lord, what kind of host would I be if I made the Victors of the Crucible share a room, let alone one bed?” said the innkeeper, laughing as though it was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard. “No, no, this room was specially prepared for the Lady Lightbreaker. Yours is just next door.”
He swept back out of the room, and Elyria’s mouth twisted with something Cedric couldn’t read—amusement? Or was there a chance in all four quarters of hell it could have possibly been disappointment? Because silly as it was, Noctis knew that’s all Cedric felt in the moment.
The longer he looked at her, though, the more Cedric realized that it was neither of those things. She wrinkled her nose, and something pulsed down the tether in his chest, a sort of wariness, unease. Sid, too, could apparently sense the shift in her, because the cat popped its head up and let out a low growl from her spot on the bed.
“What is it?” Cedric asked.
