His fear spidered through Elyria’s veins. Had they been left alone because they were human? Were they already dead? How had the others been taken without them knowing? She didn’t know much about the two guards, but she had no doubt in her mind that Tristan would never have allowed this.
The room was still quiet as a grave, the silencing rune in full effect, so Elyria couldn’t make out a single sound. But she saw the pepper-haired man arguing with the innkeeper. Saw the way her friends struggled against their restraints in reaction to whatever was being said. Then, she saw the man point at the building, the innkeeper turning with precision, brandishing a dagger as he headed back inside.
Elyria had a pretty solid guess who that was meant for.
“Quick,” she said. “Run back into your room. Close the door. Pretend you’re sleeping.”
“Like there’s a single chance in all four hells I’m leaving you,” Cedric seethed.
“This is no time to be noble,” she urged, gently pushing him toward the door, even as ribbons of shadow shot from her hand, tugging the bed back into place, hiding the blood-laced rune from sight once more. “I have this under control.”
“Not. Fucking. Happening.”
Elyria sighed, darting a ribbon of night into the hall to shut Cedric’sdoor, then drawing her own door closed as it returned to her. “Fine,” she hissed. “Hide then. And when he gets here, when he unlocks the door and breaks through the runes, that will be your chance to slip out and help our friends.”
Cedric opened his mouth as if to protest, but Elyria simply pushed him back against the wall, simultaneously lengthening the shadows there until they obscured him from view entirely. She tilted her chin, looking down to where Sid prowled across the floor, eyes on the door. “You too, Sid.”
The cat yowled her displeasure but disappeared into the ether a moment later.
Elyria turned back to the mass of darkness that hid Cedric. “Now,” she said, half her mouth tilting up in a lopsided smirk, “Let’s get some answers, shall we?”
36
SANGUINAGI
ELYRIA
Elyria hadto try very hard not to roll her eyes behind her closed lids at the soft creak of the door opening, at the careful footsteps padding across the floor. She felt them more than she heard them, the innkeeper’s plodding weight vibrating through the wood, each step like a drumbeat in her spine.
Miraculously, she did manage to maintain the facade of sleep, however. She kept her breathing even, one arm thrown lazily over her face. The other lay beneath the blanket, shadows swirling under her hand.
The man moved with confidence, and Elyria might’ve been somewhat impressed at how well he’d played the role of the jovial, welcoming host earlier. Not now, though. Now, he was a man with purpose, exuding threatening energy as he stalked towardhis target.
She counted the seconds between each creak of the floorboards. Listened to his whispered murmurs, just under his breath. He sounded proud. Excited. And why wouldn’t he be? The Revenant was subdued. Contained. He was the threat in this room, not her.
Elyria was delighted at the thought of being able to prove him wrong, even as a pang of concern burst in her chest, zipping down the tether from Cedric.
Oh, Sir Worrywart. So predictable,she thought, working to keep her lips from turning up in a smile.
She could feel the innkeeper’s presence looming over her now, could smell the stink of sweat and blood on him.
Blood that wasn’t his.
Elyria’s shadows under her palm coalesced into something smooth and sharp, just as she heard the rustle of cloth, the soft rush of air.
Now.
Elyria’s eyes snapped open to see the silver glint of a blade rushing toward her. She rolled across the bed, the innkeeper’s dagger plunging into the mattress as he released a savage yell.
“No! You’re supposed to be?—”
Elyria leapt to her feet, staring the man down from the other side of the bed. “Sleeping? Helpless? Dead already? Sorry to disappoint.”
“Fairy witch!” he yelled, tearing the dagger from the mattress, feathers showering down around them both.
Elyria grinned. “So they call me.”
He lunged across the bed. Shadows erupted from Elyria, vipers that reached out from beneath the bed, lashing around the innkeeper’s wrists and ankles, yanking him back with bone-wrenching force. They hauled him backward until he was propped up against the headboard, arms splayed to either side, legs bound together. His dagger clattered to the floor, and the innkeeper released a slew of curses that, from the sudden rage vibrating through Elyria’s chest, Cedric did not seem to appreciate.
