Elyria hesitated, her eyes first darting around the room to the numerous people trying to pretend they weren’t looking at her, before landing on Tenny, who only smiled and made a shooing motion with her hands. And before Elyria could invent an excuse, Tristan had already grabbed her wrist and was leading her onto the floor.
Attention was pinned on Elyria from all directions. Half of the stony-faced nobles observed her with detached interest—an eyebrow raised here, a pursed lip there. The other half was openly gawking, and Elyria found her capacity for remaining on her “best behavior” was starting to feel rather strained. Her eyes landed on a scowling man who was whispering in the ear of a woman to his right—harshly, Elyria figured, based on the way the woman was actively cringing away from him. Elyria narrowed her gaze on the man, who fell silent the instant he realized she was looking at him, slinking backward until he hit the wall.
“Keep glaring like that and you’ll frighten everyone in attendance into stupefied silence before the king even arrives,” Tristan teased, keeping her one hand in his, and placing the other on her waist as they began to dance.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” Elyria muttered, resting her palm on his shoulder.
He chuckled. “You wouldn’t find me complaining.”
She pursed her lips, her gaze going back to Tenny, who now appeared to be laughing at something Thraigg was saying. One of his classic, outlandish, and highly entertaining stories, no doubt. Elyria envied the ease with which the dwarf seemed to be operating tonight. She wished she could bottle up just a little bit of it for herself. “You didn’t want me asking Tenny about her and?—”
“As I said, all three of us have been friends for a long time,” Tristan interjected before she could finish her sentence. He followed her gaze, something like a sigh deflating his chest even as the music swelled. “Tenny is wonderful. Smart, funny, loyal. A level of compassion that rivals even Ric’s. Honestly, it’s a marvel they both ended up with such bleeding hearts, given who raised them.”
“Raised them?” Elyria asked, her head tilting. “As in, they were raised by the same person?”
Tristan hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip as though he realized he just said something he shouldn’t have. “Not like siblings, if that’s what you’re getting at. But in the most literal sense, yes? Cedric came to us as Lord Church’s ward. Not that the lord paramount bothered spending much time with him until he was old enough to begin training for the Crucible.” His jaw tightened.
“He was Lord Church’s ward?”
“Well, a ward of his estate, at any rate. Since he was little more than six or so. After his parents were murdered by—uh, after his family was killed.”
A wave of heart-wrenching pity for a young, parentless Cedric swelled in Elyria’s gut, followed by a surge of defensiveness. “I didn’t kill his family.”
Tristan’s expression softened. “I know. He told me all about the literal nightmare that was the Trial of Spirit. It seems as though many truths were revealed inside the Sanctum, even if the question of who exactlywasresponsible for orphaning our poor boy remains unanswered.”
Elyria’s heart clenched at the thought, at the memory of that burning cottage, of her pulling him from the flames.
“But I’m getting off topic. Apologies, I tend to do that. You want to know if there is specific history between Ric and Tenny and for that, I do, of course, have an answer.”
7
ALL BUSINESS
ELYRIA
The knotof shadows in Elyria’s chest tightened to the point of near-pain.
“Yes, there is history there,” Tristan said. “Therewas.I mean, we all grew up together. Things are bound to transpire. Close quarters and all that. Feelings might have gotten...complicated, once or twice.” He adjusted his grip on Elyria’s hand and waist as though bracing for her reaction. When she gave him none, he continued, “But it’s been a long time since then. Water under the bridge.”
“Is that so?” Elyria asked wryly, jutting her chin in Tenny’s direction. “Does she know that?”
The music crescendoed. Tristan’s face fell. “Ah, well, yes, that. See, that’s why I didn’t particularly think it wasa good idea to ask her directly.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Tristan’s head swung from side to side, the knight looking about the room as if searching for someone to help him avoid the awkwardness of this conversation. “Oh, at one point or another, haven’t we all beenvery close friends? You must know what that’s like. You arrived here surrounded with beauty of all shapes and sizes. I confess, I find myself particularly fascinated with that one.” Tristan winked before spinning Elyria in the direction of Nox, who was now cloistered off to one side of the room, speaking with Kit.
Elyria’s brow furrowed at the glimpse of concern she spotted on both their faces before Tristan pulled her back.
“I’ve never seen a nocterrian in person before, you know,” he said when she was in front of him once more. “They’re...tall.”
The music subsided, the song having finally ended. She extricated herself from Tristan’s grip and joined the room in offering a smattering of applause to the musicians. “You’re rather tolerant for a human, aren’t you?”
“Am I?”
Elyria offered him a pointed look.
He chuckled. “Fair enough. I may only have just arrived back in town, but if what I walked in on with Beatrice and Clarissa earlier was any indication of the reception you’ve received thus far, please allow me to apologize on behalf of all Kingshelm. I fear the attitudes around here do remain a bit medieval.”
