He looked really fucking good in black.
He looked really fucking good now.
Better than any man had the right to.
But worse, somehow, too. Like the weight of their months apart sat heavy on his shoulders. Cedric’s jaw was tight, and it was like she could feel the pressure of his clenched teeth as their eyes met, and herown breath was punched from her lungs.
He was here.
She’d told herself he wouldn’t be. Had prepared herself for that fact. Had rejoiced in the idea that she wouldn’t have to face him. Facethis. She didn’t think she could. Not when just thethoughtof him over the past few months had brought her nothing but misery. Done nothing but summon the memories of the Crucible—the bad outweighing the good.
The heat of his body against hers.
Her name on his lips.
A knife in his chest.
The thrum of celestial power tearing through her veins as she willed him back to life.
Elyria blinked, forcing herself to hold onto the present. The here. The now. Because that’s exactly where he was.
His brown eyes were warm, that ring of gold encircling each iris gleaming. It pulled at the final knot in her shadows—a thread unraveling.
Not a thread.
A cord. A chain.
An anchor.
Elyria’s heart was beating so hard she swore the entire room must’ve been able to hear it.
Something bright and beautiful bloomed in her chest, her shadows stretching, loose and free in a way they hadn’t been since she’d left the Lost City. Like they wanted to reach for him. And for a moment, Elyria marveled at how she could ever have pretended she, herself, wanted otherwise.
Especially as he raised a palm, the light glinting off a ring on his index finger as he gave her a small, tenuous wave—like he didn’t quite know what else to do with his hands. She could see the instantaneous regret flash over his face at the gesture, could feel the laugh bubbling up inside her in response.
Enough of this. If she was going to make fun of him for what was perhaps the lamest greeting in Arcanis, she would do it properly. She readied herself to cross the distance between them, not entirely sure of what she would say once she did, and?—
Someoneelse got there first.
Tenny was a blur of silver skirts and buoyant curls as she launched herself at Cedric, her smile radiant as he caught her with practiced ease.
Elyria’s shadows screeched to a halt in her veins, freezing her in place at the sight of his hands wrapping around Tenny’s waist. At the way the scar on his upper lip stretched into a warm smile when he peered down at her.
Tristan gave Elyria a look that seemed to say many things before moving to join his friends. She watched the three of them for a few moments more, swallowing down the bitter surge of jealousy that rose in her throat, tasting of bile.
For fuck’s sake, what was wrong with her?
She had no claim to him.
Wrong,said something in her mind.
He wasn’t hers.
Wrong,it said again.
Shut up,she told herself. She might’ve said more to punish herself for her own mind’s woefully inaccurate interpretation of whatever this thing between her and Cedric was, but a familiar hand on her arm saved her from the self-flagellation.
“The king approaches.”
