“We could have flown down here ourselves,” Ollie said, wings fluttering irritatedly before folding down tight against his back. “Could’ve been in and out, quick as lightning.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
Elyria scoffed. “You really think that would have been less ostentatious?”
“He’s not wrong,” said Jocelyn, her voice low. “The two of you take up far less space than a carriage, and you can fly much faster than one too. I would have been happy to remain at the palace with?—”
“As though we would have come without you,” Elyria said, cutting her off. Both Ollie and Jocelyn’s cheeks reddened at the gentle reprimand.
The three of them strode up the stairs to the door of the orphanage, bypassing the duo of royal guards waiting in front. Several small children trailed after them—scrappy little things with wide eyes and grime streaked across their hollow cheeks. She gestured for Jocelyn to hand over one of the satchels the guard had looped over her shoulders, then pulled three shiny apples from within and handed them to the children. They shrieked with glee as they ran past Elyria into the house, shouting about their prizes.
Elyria’s heart gave a little leap when her gaze landed on a head of tousled chestnut hair crouched just on the other side of the threshold, talking to a little girl, perhaps just five or six summers. Her red curls bounced as she brandished her apple in front of Cedric’s face like it was her most prized possession.
The knight beamed, as though the child were presenting him with the stars-damned Crown of Concord itself.
“I’ll give him this much,” Ollie said as he came up behind Elyria, “he truly does seem to care, doesn’t he?”
Elyria said nothing, only continued watching through the open doorway as a slightly older boy joined Cedric and the little girl. The knight ruffled the boy’s hair, a heartbreakingly casual gesture that hadconflicting emotions tangling and untangling in Elyria’s chest.
The little girl stretched her arm, tiny fingers pointing directly at Elyria. “The Lady Victor gave it to me,” she said, her sweet voice tinged with pride.
Cedric’s head lifted, his gaze immediately meeting Elyria’s. Time seemed suspended for several heartbeats before he got to his feet. “So, you’ve decided to join us after all.”
Elyria crossed the threshold and entered the house. “Was that in doubt?”
He shrugged. “I never quite know what to expect with you.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she said nothing, only gestured for Ollie and Jocelyn to stay put at the entrance with the other guards.
The house was well-kept, Elyria thought, given its location...and its purpose. The wall coverings were peeling from the corners and the banister of the staircase behind Cedric looked like it had seen better days but, considering the state of many of the other buildings in the Walk, she’d honestly expected much worse.
“Well, welcome, at any rate,” Cedric said. “Shall I introduce you to some of the little terrors?” Giggles erupted from the surrounding children, more of whom seemed to emerge from adjacent rooms with every passing second. “I should tell you they have already been duly warned about you.”
“Is that so?” She playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “What exactly have you been saying about me?”
“Only the truth. That you’re a ruthless Arcanian warrior who makes grown men cry?—”
“And did you tell them how you know that?” she cut in with a smirk.
“—but that you’re mostly bark, little bite,” he continued, notedly sidestepping her remark. “Unless they get between you and your bacon.”
She grinned. “Now,thatyou would definitelyknow.”
“He also said you’re beautiful,” piped in the red-headed girl. Another round of giggles rang through the room.
“I said that youfightbeautifully,” Cedric corrected quickly.
Elyria bit the inside of her cheek to keep her smile from growing. “I suppose the Revenant’s reputation really does precede me, doesn’t it?”
“Admittedly, a few of the children have been a bit warier than others. I tried to assuage their fears by assuring them the Revenant has a soft spot for orphans.”
“Do I?”
Cedric grinned broadly, the scar on his upper lip stretching tauntingly. “Orphans and kittens,” he said with a nod.
Elyria pursed her lips. “Ah, I see. The honorable Lord Victor is a liar.”
“Which part is a lie?”
“I don’t particularly care for cats.”
