The thought had rage surging anew inside Elyria, her shadows boiling over, coalescing in her hands, forming a sharp point, a cool hard handle. She glanced at the twin throwing daggers now in her hands, spinning in place and hurling them into one of the practice dummies lining the far wall of the training room. The weapon sank into the straw-stuffed torso with a satisfyingthump.
Elyria scratched at the top of her thigh as she gave her handiwork an approving nod, her scars itching beneath her leather breeches. She had been somewhat mollified to see that Raefe had not escaped their encounter in The Sweltering Pig completely without repercussion. She had warned him that Tartanis would not appreciate her being too roughed up, after all. He’d chosen to mark her anyway.
They never listen,she thought, releasing a wistful sigh, another shadowdagger solidifying against her palm in the same breath. She released it with a flourish, striking the dummy inches above where its imaginary crotch might’ve been, were it more anatomically accurate.
Sadly, the action did little to soothe her now. Just as the sight of Raefe’s mangled ear, the pointed tip of it tornoff, had only provided another temporary pacification of her anger.
Knowing that Master Tartanis had sentthismanafter her in the first place, that she now had to face him—work with him?—as if nothing had ever occurred had Elyria’s shadows slithering over her skin like agitated serpents. She’d holed herself away all day for fear of what she might say or do should she come across Raefe, or even Sephone, again.
So, it was just as well that when Kit and Nox had finally caught up to Elyria after their little introductory meeting, the latter had convinced her to while away another day training her shadows and embracing her solitude. She could do that. Could use this time to perfect her sparrows, could continue attempting—and failing—to shadowstep. It was better than the alternative.
And she certainly wasn’t hiding from anyone else. Certainly wasn’t still thinking about a heated kiss in a crowded tavern. Wasn’t thinking about the way her shadows kept reaching toward Cedric like they wanted to blanket every inch of him. Certainly did not feel atugin her chest right at that very moment.
Elyria hadn’t seen the knight since she’d flown out of that stars-damned tavern, leaving him behind with a sour taste on her tongue. It had barely been a full day since, but it felt longer. Felt like a Chasm had cracked open between them the moment she broke their kiss.
She really was a coward.
Holding a ball of shadow between her palms, Elyria shook her head, forcing her focus to sharpen before moving to sit in the center of the room.
This was it. This was the one; she could feel it. It was going to work this time. She closed her eyes and began working the shadow in her hands, shaping it. Then, she reached into herself, searching for the beat of her wild magic, the humming melody oflifethat dwelled inside her, inside all living things. She reached and?—
Bang.
The sound of wood smacking against stone echoed through the room. Elyria’s eyes flew open, and she shot to her feet, whirling toward the sound. Then, just as quickly, she balked at the sight of none other than Cedric fucking Thorne standing at the entrance.
“What the fuck?” she exclaimed, her shadows melting away.
Of course he was here. He shifted his weight, perfectly framed in the open doorway. It took several heartbeats of awkward silence for Elyria’s mind to catch up to what her eyes were seeing.
She’d expected to find him in his knightly garb, or perhaps the typical black-on-black attire he seemed to prefer when he was out of his armor. But no, Cedric was not wearing either. Instead, he had donned a pair of loose gray pants, a drawstring tied in front the only thing keeping them up above his hips.
And that was it.
No doublet. No tunic.
Nothing but gleaming, sweat-slicked skin over taut muscle, his token hanging against his bare chest, which rose and fell as though he had just run across the entire palace to get here.
Elyria smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, suddenly desperate for a glass of water.
Or perhaps something stronger.
“What are you doing here?” Their voices wove together as Elyria and Cedric spoke at the same time.
She glared at him. The corners of his mouth twitched.
“Is something funny?” she asked, daggers forming in her eyes.
“No, of course not,” he said, though she could hear the smile behind his words as his voice cut across her ears, clear and low.
That ever-present, ever-annoying pang in Elyria’s chest trilled at the sound,tuggingher toward its source.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, finally stepping into the room.
“What have you been up to on the penultimate day before your big mission begins?” she asked, pointedly refusing to answer the question, her tone sharp. She hoped it might mask the sadness threatening to creep into her words at the thought of his departure. Hoped he couldn’t tell how much she abhorred the very thought, as her eyes roved down his chest, his abdomen, his?—
She cleared her throat. “You never answered my question. What are you doing here?”
Cedric arched a brow, as if to say,You’re one to talk.“Nox told me to meet them here. I finally took your advice,” he said lightly. “I’m toundergo some last-minute magic lessons before departing.”
