Didn’t he know that she couldn’t say goodbye? That if she had tried to, she might never have been able to leave?
A knock at the door broke her from her thoughts. Sid mewled grouchily from the bed as Elyria called out, “Come in.”
Ollie’s turquoise hair poked in from the hall. “Ah, so youarehere. Kymber was just trying to convince us that you weren’t.” He threw open the door, revealing Jocelyn behind him, the two of them already clad in their traveling gear—leather bracers, thick cloaks, sturdy boots.
“Of course I’m here. Where else would I have been?” Elyria said, perhaps a little too quickly if the way Ollie’s eyes immediately crinkled with amusement was any measure to go by.
“Yes, where indeed?” Jocelyn’s mouth quivered at the edges, and Elyria buried the flush that threatened to rush into her cheeks as she remembered that the guard had been spending a lot of time with Cedric’s attendant. What did Addison know?
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Elyria snapped.
Jocelyn and Ollie exchanged a look, before he gestured loosely at the back of his head. “You might want to, ah?—”
Elyria’s hand shot to her hair, and she grimaced at the tangled mess she found there.
“Lots of tossing and turning last night, was there?” Ollie added, and it took Elyria a significant amount of restraint not to hurl her friend right out of the room.
She shot him a glare instead, smoothing her hair before hastily weaving it into a messy braid. “I’m fine. Just eager to get underway. Feels like I’ve waited a lifetime for this.”
“You’ll watchyourself out there, Ellie?” Kit stepped back from embracing Elyria, her mismatched eyes glinting with something that fell between approval and concern.
The courtyard buzzed with activity. Attendants tied together final bags of provisions as stablehands tended to the pack horses and riders’ mounts alike. The two men making up theirescortwere already perched atop their steeds, waiting by the gate a few yards away. Elyria recognized them as the guards who’d accompanied Cedric to Luminaria, recalling the two decidedly different attitudes they’d seemed to have at the Crucible’s end.
“Of course, Kitty Kat.” Elyria slung her staff over her shoulder and offered her friend what she hoped was a reassuring nod. “You know me.”
Kit arched a brow. “Yes, I do. That’s what worries me.”
“Aye, I’ll be there to watch her back,” called Thraigg from atop his horse.
Elyria wanted to roll her eyes at the dwarf’s contribution, but instead found herself once again distracted by the rather clever contraption that was Thraigg’s saddle. Difficult as it was, she had to give the humans credit there. Not only did it have custom-length stirrups and extra support added to the back to accommodate for the difference in weight distribution, but they’d also crafted some kind of retractable ladder to allow the dwarf to mount and dismount with ease.
More distracting still had been the stablehand’s answer when Elyria asked where he had procured the saddle. A special commission from the Lord Victor, he’d said, something that had made Elyria’s heart clench.
“You, I worry about even more,” Kit said with a huff, and Thraigg barked a raucous laugh in response that set off the rest of those gathered in the courtyard. Ollie was all smiles as he tightened the strap on one of his vambraces, then strolled over to his waiting horse. Jocelyn gave a good-natured roll of her eyes. Even Tenebris Nox, leaning against the courtyard wall nearby, cracked a grin.
“Remind me of her name?” Elyria asked the stablehand as he offered her the reins of a beautiful champagne-coated mare.
“Butterscotch, my lady.”
The horse snorted before releasing a short whinny, shaking its head.
Elyria chuckled. “I’m not sure she likes that all too much.”
“By all means, then,” came a deep voice, “call her whatever you please.”
The stablehand bowed as he shimmied to the side, making room for Lord Paramount Leviathan Church’s approach. Behind him, Tenny wiggled her fingers at Elyria in greeting, a broad smile on her face, then turned to speak with Kit.
Lord Church ran his palm down the mare’s back, and the horse’s tail flicked. “What would you name her instead?”
Elyria swallowed the discomfort she felt, trying to quash the way her shadows suddenly stirred. She placed her hands on either side of the horse’s face, looking the animal over intently before bringing their foreheads together.
“Fjaethe,” she said quietly. The horse let out a low whinny. Stamped its hoof in seeming approval.
Lord Church took a step closer. “What was that you said?”
“Fjaethe,” Elyria repeated, louder. “It’s an Arcanian word. It means?—”
“Hope Keeper.”
