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“And it’s not like we could trust Barcroff with this sort of thing, now, could we?” Tristan said icily, before releasing a long exhale. “Of course, that’s still a problem for us to solve, isn’t it? Because now that you’re here with us, and with everyone else Noctis knows where, how the fuck are we supposed to get a message to them? Are we shit out of luck until Elle decides to send another sparrow? Do we just have to hope we can actually send something back next time?”

Tenny met Ollie’s gaze, and the two of them exchanged a smile.

“What? What does that mean? What are those faces for?”

Ollie turned to Zephyr. “You have access to the village’s missive station, yes? The mana stone here?”

There was another flash of green light, and Zephyr was expanding once more—growing, filling out, until she had once again taken the form of their burly prisoner. “Indeed, I do.”

Tenny blinked through the discomfort of hearing the sylvan’s lilting voice coming from the massive man’s form once again. She rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “All right, then. We’re going to need to write two letters.”

37

LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

CEDRIC

Elyria would not stop wringing her hands. She had to have chafed them into oblivion by now, especially given the dry winter air and her penchant for scooping up snow in order to lob snowballs at Cedric at every ostensible opportunity. But she did not seem to care. She just kept wringing and wringing, until the moment they got to the flap of the tent that Sephone had instructed them to go to, and all signs of nervousness seemed to evaporate from her at once.

Her spine was straight, her chin lifted, her expression carefully neutral. She had her mask on, and if not for the tightness of her jaw or the unease vibrating along their bond, Cedric might have actually thought her calm, collected.

She was decidedly not.

“Oi! There they are!” Thraigg’s jovial voice immediately pulled at Cedric’s heartstrings, his lips tilting into a smile despite his own guardedness. It fell as he took in the sight of the man sitting at the dwarf’s bedside.

Cedric knew it was Tartanis on sight. Elyria resembled him in several obvious ways, the starkest of which being the eyes that were her exact shade of emerald green taking stock of Cedric from another face.

“Gaia’s smothering tits, am I glad to see ye,” Thraigg chirped. He was sitting up, leaning against a tall stack of crates that had been piled high behind his cot. The upper part of his chest and right shoulder were wrapped in a thick bandage, and there was some kind of paste applied to what looked like a deep cut bisecting his left brow, but the dwarf was clearly in excellent spirits. “I had no doubt ye’d make quick work of those cultist bastards, but it’s still good to see it confirmed with my own eyes.”

Tartanis stood, shuffling a deck of playing cards from hand to hand. He was nearly as tall as Cedric, his hair darker than he’d imagined it from Elyria’s description of him. Those green eyes softened when they landed on her.

“Daughter,” he said warmly, his lips curving into a one-sided smile that was so familiar, Cedric had to actively avert his gaze.

“Father,” Elyria replied icily.

Thraigg’s brow furrowed as his gaze flicked between the two of them in rapid succession. “Er, everything all right there, Rev? Ric?”

“Just fine, Thraigg,” Elyria said. Then, after a moment, she added, “Are you? I’m sorry about Larkess. I know she was your friend.”

Thraigg’s cheeks puffed as the dwarf blew out a long breath. “Aye. Much appreciated, lass. Can’t say I won’t miss the old bird. Some people are just good people, ye know?”

Elyria glanced up at Cedric, and something twisted in his chest at her expression when their eyes met. “I know.” She cleared her throat before returning her gaze to her father, and Cedric didn’t need to hear her thoughts to know what she was thinking.

Some people aren’t such good people, too.

She looked pointedly at the cards in Tartanis’s hands. “Don’t let us interrupt you. It’s clear you’re doing very important work here.”

“Nonsense. We just finished. You have perfect timing.” Tartanis’s voice was low and smooth, his tone pleasant. One might even call it charming. Cedric supposed one would have to be as much, given his particular line of work.

“Ye never told me yer father’s such a shark at cards, Rev. He’s nearly bled me dry.”

“Apt choice of words,” she muttered, and the look of confusion on Thraigg’s face deepened.

Tartanis turned his attention to Cedric, his green-eyed gaze quickly roaming over him before he fixed a smile back on his face. “Lord Victor,” he said with a nod. “It is so good to finally meet you. I’ve heard many wonderful things.”

Cedric blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it again. All that time he’d spent ruminating on what it would be like to meet Elyria’s father, to face the man who had caused her so much hurt, all that effort put into thinking about how she was feeling, how she would react, how she would fare . . . and Cedric hadn’t once considered what he himself might say to the man.

“Err, hello, Mr., uh, Lightbreaker . . . sir.” Noctis take me.