And Elyria drove a spike of shadow through his chest.
38
ONWARD
CEDRIC
The sun did riseon Dawnspire eventually.
It rose slow and golden, without a care for the fact that the ground below was still soaked in blood.
Cedric stood at the edge of the courtyard, his boots planted in churned dirt, the hem of his cloak stiff with dried gore. Early sunlight glinted off the remains of theshatteredsanguinagiweapons, casting red-tinted shadows on the bodies that hadn’t yet been cleared.
The rest of the village had emerged with the breaking rays of dawn, some muttering words of apology or thanks, some working in stone-faced silence. Either way, Cedric did not begrudge their help in carting away the dead bodies. Even after spilling all their own blood, thesecultists were heavy.
Cedric sighed as he laid the body in his arms onto the cart stationed on the southern side of the inn, trying not to look at the woman’s face as he did. He didn’t need to see it again, not when her crestfallen look of surprise as he’d stabbed Ashrender through her heart would linger in his memory for many years to come.
Yes, she’d attacked him. Attackedher. Might have killed them both.
He still did not revel in the number of lives lost in the night. The number of lives he, himself, took. Even if that count ended up lessened by at least one, as he came to find.
After Elyria had delivered her dark justice to the innkeeper last night, Cedric had found the cultists’ pepper-haired leader writhing on the ground in the exact spot where he had left him, muttering nonsensically. It was as though by piercing his spine, Cedric had inadvertently carved out a piece of his mind as well.
“Audaxus, I presume,” Cedric said, a sneer curling his lip. “Now would be a good time to start talking.”
The man ignored him, his dark blue eyes rolling back in his head, lips moving in broken murmurs. “I told him he was mad...never should have used that damn greenie, should’ve left the sanctuary alone...I knew they’d come for us...come for me...”
“Who isthey?” Cedric had asked. “What sanctuary?”
The man coughed, blood flecking his lips. He didn’t even seem to register Cedric’s presence.
“They act so peaceful, but they hide so much. Not worth it. Not worth it. Not even for the veil.” His eyes finally locked on Cedric. “Tricky green bastards.”
And with that, his head had lolled to the side and the man succumbed to unconsciousness.
In the present, a melodic laugh drew Cedric’s attention, and he turned a corner to find Elyria at the front steps of the inn, sitting lengthwise on a stair, legs crossed at her ankles. She picked at a yeast roll, her head turned toward the open doorway, where she was clearly conversing with someone just inside.
Like a reflex, Cedric found his gaze raking over her, searching for signs of the injuries he knew she had long since healed. He shook his head, partially at himself for the unnecessary concern, and partiallyat Elyria and her supremely unhelpful position, blocking the inn’s entrance in silent protest.
He supposed there were worse ways she could portray her displeasure. She had been the one in favor of leaving the village to fend for themselves, after all. Said they should clean up their own mess.
Thankfully, everyone else—save for Sephone, who remained unconscious, and both Hargrave and Thibault, who were recovering from their injuries alongside her—had agreed with Cedric’s position that making a hasty retreat was hardly honorable. As Avery said, it wasn’t as though the entire village was responsible for the attack last night. It was only right to help clearsomeof the destruction before they left.
Cedric pursed his lips, his gaze moving past Elyria to the inn doorway, making out the very back of Young Shep’s head as he crouched over the injured trio. They’d found Thibault just before sunrise, sprawled near the cold cellar, head bleeding, wrist broken. His memory of what happened after parting ways with Tristan and Hargrave were fuzzy, but Cedric hoped that with rest he would be able to fill in some gaps.
There had been only so much they’d gotten out of the few cultists they found alive, after all. Especially because they hadn’t remained that way for long. Save for the pepper-haired man and his mad ramblings, all the othersanguinagihad bled out onto the gravel before being able to say anything much at all.
The problem with wielding your blood as a weapon, Cedric mused.Well, one of the problems.
A soft meow caught Cedric’s attention. Sid prowled toward Elyria, only a slight limp to her gait now, the wisps of dark smoke leaking from her wounded leg dwindling. Blessedly, it seemed like the injury was healing. The shadowcat crawled into Elyria’s lap, so large now that she barely fit there, even curled up.
“Stupid creature,” Elyria said with a smile, brushing her fingers through Sid’s fur with long, slow strokes. She broke off a piece from her roll and offered it to the cat, who sniffed at it before lifting her chin with a huff.
“Suit yourself,” Elyria said, popping the piece into her mouth.
Sid licked Elyria’s cheek, and Cedric’s chest felt suddenly tight.
“What does she even eat?” he asked, walking over to the pair.
