“Pardon me?” Elyria said for the second time in as many minutes.
“You’re the Revenant.”
Elyria tensed. She’d known this would happen eventually. Had been waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop for the past few days, waiting for someone who could no longer mask their ire for Arcanians, the fae, and all the Revenant had done, to confront her. Was this man, someone Tenny was clearly friends with, finally going to be the one to do so? Right here in the middle of the welcome celebration?
“I am,” Elyria said warily.
The man reached toward her, and the knot of shadows in her chest pulsed again, this time frantic with anticipation. But he didn’t move to grab her or strike her. No, instead he stretched one large arm around Elyria and drew her into a hug, just as he’d done with Tenny.
Elyria froze in place, unsure of what to do. “Um...” She raised herfree hand to pat him awkwardly on the back. “Nice to meet you?”
“Honestly, Tristan, let the poor girl go.” Tenny batted him playfully on the arm until he released Elyria.
That grin of his only grew as he appraised her, his eyes raking down her gown before he let out an appreciative whistle. “Didn’t get much of a look at you back in Castle Lumin, what with all the drama.” He waved his hands in the air, linking his thumbs and wiggling his fingers—a crude imitation of a bird flapping its wings. “And let me just say, I will be forever filled with regret over that fact. To think, I could have had this image in my mind all these long months.”
He winked, then tilted in Tenny’s direction as if looking for her agreement. She simply shook her head, offering Elyria a look of sympathy. And despite the momentary jolt at Tristan’s reminder of what Zephyr had done—and what she was—Elyria found herself fighting a grin.
“Tristan, is it?”
“It is, my lady. Sir Tristan Hale.”
“You are a knight of Kingshelm then, Sir Hale?” She cursed her traitorous heart for the way its rhythm picked up at the realization. He was at Castle Lumin, which is why he looked familiar. One of Cedric’s compatriots who had been there to greet him at the end. She wanted to ask so many things—how well Tristan knew Cedric, if he knew where he was. If he was due to return anytime soon. If she would get to see him before she left. She cursed herself for the patheticness of it all, but could feel the questions building, threatening to throw themselves off her tongue.
Thankfully, the sour look on Tristan’s face saved her from making a desperate fool of herself.
“Something the matter?” Elyria asked.
“Oh, nothing. I am just suddenly acutely aware of the fact that I perhaps underestimated my friendship with dear Cedric if he didn’t mention me even once during the Crucible.” His bottom lip jutted out in a comical pout.
At that, Elyria laughed. “Of course, how rude of us. How dare we not walk each other through our lists of friends and family between trials? Where were our priorities?”
“At least you can admit it.” Another twinkle of those blue eyes. “Iaccept your apology.”
Elyria buried her answering smile in her goblet.
“Well,Imay not have been a topic of conversation within the Sanctum,” he continued, “but I have, on the other hand, heard allaboutyou.”
“Mmm, only the most flattering things, I’m sure.”
“They have been. To be fair, perhaps not all the ladies would enjoy being referred to as a ‘beautiful and terrifying onslaught,’ but something tells me that indeed is something you would find flattering.”
Elyria choked on her wine.
Tristan, to his credit, didn’t miss a beat. “Our dear Lord Victor particularly seems to enjoy detailing your fighting prowess anytime he and I find ourselves in the training ring together. It’s all, ‘During the Crucible,the Revenant wielded her weapons likethis,’ and ‘In the Sanctum,Elyria used her magic to dothat.’ Incessant.”
Elyria cleared her throat and fought the urge to race out of the room. “My goodness, such praise.” She turned to Tenny. “And you know the, uh,Lord Victoras well?” She tried to suppress a snort of laughter as his title spilled from her lips. Her obvious failure had Tristan’s face lighting up with delight.
The blush Elyria had thought Tristan’s earlier embrace might have brought out finally crept into Tenny’s cheeks. “Oh, well, yes...I suppose that is one way of putting it.”
Elyria felt suddenly itchy, like her very skin fit wrong. That damn attendant really did tie her dress entirely too tight. Her grip constricted involuntarily around her goblet—errantly, she thought she might have felt the metal start to buckle beneath her touch. And her tone was far sharper than she intended when she said, “Meaning...?”
“Meaning,” Tristan interjected pointedly, “that we areallvery good friends. Have been, since we were little. The three of us grew up together.”
“Yes, right,” agreed Tenny, a bit quickly. “Exactly.”
“Mmm,” said Elyria, moving to take another sip from her cup before realizing with disappointment that it was, in fact, entirely empty. She set it down on the table just as the musicians began a new song, slow, simple, and bright. “Then, Tenny, are you two?—”
“Shall we dance, my lady?” Tristan was bent at the waist, hishand extended.
