“Just a little longer,” Kit had insisted the last time they spoke of it. “The alleged rest of the delegation arrives soon. The king’s council has agreed to let us move forward with starting the search for Varyth Malchior in earnest once they get here. The end is in sight, Ellie.”
“Easy for you to say when you’re not the one on display,” Elyria had spat back.
“It can’t be all bad. I don’t see you complaining about the company, at least.” A knowing grin had broken across Kit’s face at the flush that immediately crept into Elyria’s cheeks, and that had been enough for Elyria to shut down the conversation entirely.
She didn’t know how to feel about this time with Cedric. She hated the pretension of their dual roles as victors, hated being bound by these supercilious duties. At the same time, she craved his presence, the way his gaze bore into her when she wasn’t looking. Like he thought she wouldn’t be able to feel him staring.
“Avoiding it won’t change anything, you realize,” Nox said, prying Elyria’s attention back.
“What are you talking about?” she spat back, even as the memory of Cedric’s heat flashed across her mind, the way his lips had seared themselves on hers. Her memory went further, back to the feel of hisgolden flames intertwining with her shadows in the Sanctum.
Elyria’s chest throbbed, a gentletugof the tether that connected them—thatboundthem together.
There was no denying the bond between them, whatever it was. A replacement for whatever had been formed, then snapped, during the Crucible? Or something new entirely?
She did not want to admit that her power felt sharper, steadier whenever he was near. Did not want to admit to the hum of recognition, ofbelonging, she felt whenever his own power flared. Even now, her power flickered under her skin at the thought, as if her shadows, too, yearned to reunite with his fire.
Nox said nothing else, just observed her with that keen crimson gaze until Elyria couldn’t stand the pregnant silence any longer.
She shot the nocterrian a withering look. “My priorities haven’t changed, Tenebris. Malchior. The crown. All of it.That’swhy I’m here. No other reason. It’s why I allow them to make me part of their parade—my contribution to this tenuously brokered peace. So that we have the opportunity to make good on said priorities.”
“And yet, every moment you are not being ‘paraded around,’ you spend here, sequestering yourself in this chamber day and night rather than?—”
“You’re the one who brought me here!”
“To give you a place to train, yes. Not to hide.”
“I’m not hiding. And I told you I’m done with this conversation.”
Nox raised an eyebrow. “You know, were you able to shadowstep...” Elyria didn’t get the chance to hear the end of their sentence, their point immediately proven as the nocterrian stepped into a pocket of darkness and faded away. The amusement they clearly felt at being able to steal the final word lingered in the air.
Elyria groaned, suppressing the sudden desire to claw her fingers through her hair, to tear out the frustration from her very scalp. Instead, she walked over to the wall and pressed her forehead to the cool stone.
She inhaled. She exhaled.
She didn’t have time for this. She needed to don that mask again. To pretend she cared about this performance of unity the human king was so hell-bent on maintaining. To pretend like she wasn’t affected bybeing inhisvicinity, by feeling the thrum of his power so close to her.
At least today’s event was to be different.
A charitable visit to the children of the Walk.
Elyria had overheard Kit remarking on it with some satisfaction that morning. If Kit thought it worthy of note, Elyria supposed it couldn’t be all bad. And that would have to be enough to keep her from losing her entire stars-damned mind.
16
CLIPPED WINGS
ELYRIA
The judgmental chatterof observers had been audible during the entire carriage ride through the city, so Elyria was not surprised when she stepped out onto the cobblestone streets of the Walk to see a gathering of onlookers. With hands fisted in the skirt of her long wintergreen dress and matching cloak, her breath fogged in the air as she took in the crowd—the awe and wariness on their faces, their tattered clothing. A good number of those present were children, having just run out from the orphanage that was Elyria’s destination today.
Those gathered seemed to swell around Elyria as she walked forward, something that had both Ollie and Jocelyn moving in close behind her. Cautious energy pulsed off them both, palpable.
“It’s fine,” Elyria said, voice low. “They’re just interested.”
“We shouldn’t have taken the carriage,” Ollie grumbled, hand lightly laid on the hilt of his sword. “Even having sent the gryphons back to Nyrundelle, it’s so ostentatious. No wonder we drew a crowd.”
“What was our alternative?” Elyria asked.
