Page 140

Snow lay in shallow piles on either side of the narrow pathway that had been cleared in front of her father’s tent. Elyria stared at the entrance.

Just go in, you coward, she scolded herself. They needed to get moving. Needed to head north, get to Tenny, Tristan, Ollie, and Zephyr in Kinsgaith. Needed to head off Malakar, keep him from getting to the Line.

Elyria tugged the thick cloak tight around her shoulders, though she didn’t feel the chill the way she probably should have. Since completing the life-bond with Cedric, that singular speck of sunfyre in Elyria’s chest had turned into a proper flame. It was as though his light had sunk into her blood, warming her bones, her very soul.

It mixed with her shadows and her wild magic and made her feel like she had been born again as something entirely new. She tried not to think about it too hard. Tried not to dwell on what it meant that it felt so natural, how immediately at ease she was. Like her body had been waiting for this all along. Like it was the very lack of him that was the cause of any wrongness she’d felt throughout her entire life.

She was meant to have this power.

She was meant to wield it with him.

Snow crunched behind her, and Elyria turned to see the very subject of her thoughts.

“You’ll have to show me how you do that thing,” Cedric groused, nervously fidgeting with the golden crown in his hands as he walked up.

“And you’ll have to be more specific than that, I’m afraid,” she replied with a soft smile.

He gestured loosely to the top of her head. “How to keep it hidden in the ether as you do. Like your wings.”

Elyria grinned, and with the tiniest, meagerest burst of magic, her own crown rematerialized on top of her head. She marveled momentarily at how easy it was, to summon and banish it at will, along with her wings. There was just so much magic flowing through her, all the time now. She wondered if she would ever get used to it.

It was a dangerous thing, to feel so invincible.

She knew she was not.

Elyria plucked Cedric’s crown from between his fingers and reached up to set it upon his head. Stars above, it suited him. His wavy chestnut hair curled around the edges of the headpiece like it had been grown specifically to welcome its gilded weight. “Why do you want to hide it? Regality is a good look for you, Your Majesty.”

He fixed her with a pointed stare, then held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers. Winter sunlight glinted off his ring. “I’d venture to say it’s the same reason you choose to hide yours, my queen.”

Elyria rolled her eyes. “Hmm, queen consort, maybe. We can talk about all of that . . . after.”

Cedric’s scarred lip quivered, like he was trying very hard to hold in a smile. “After.”

“All right, then,” she said, burying the grin that threatened to spread across her face in response. She shut her mental doors tightly in anticipation of facing her father, cutting off the final echo of Cedric’s voice from her mind. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Her boots dragged slush along the floor when she entered the tent. Someone handed her a steaming mug, and the scent of rich broth filled her nose when she dipped her head in thanks.

Tartanis was seated in an unsurprisingly plush chair near the center of the tent, sipping from a mug of his own. He looked thoroughly unbothered, unhurried, and most definitely not like he was about to shepherd a full village’s worth of displaced sylvans and mixedborns to safety.

Sephone and Raefe stood a few paces behind him, conversing quietly. They stopped as Elyria and Cedric approached, their eyes immediately snapping to the golden crowns atop their heads.

Raefe’s gray eyes were wide as they flicked from Cedric’s crown to Elyria’s, then back again. “Should we, uh, be bowing or something?”

“Please don’t,” Cedric muttered, just as Elyria said, “You? Absolutely.”

Sephone snickered, then let out a low whistle. “That’s a good look for you, Rev. Although, I suppose I should start getting used to calling you ‘Your Majesty,’ eh?”

“I believe we can save the honorifics for later,” Tartanis said, turning slightly in his chair. “When the dust has settled, Malakar has been stopped, and the two of you have reclaimed Castle Lumin and the Lost City.”

“That’s a rather lofty list of goals there, Father,” Elyria gritted out. “Let’s focus on the most pertinent things first, shall we? You three don’t look particularly ready to usher these fine people to said city.”

“Are we still sure that taking them there is the right choice?” Cedric asked nervously. “The Cult⁠—”

“The city is half-empty,” Raefe said. “And from my time spent there, I can tell you with certainty that it isn’t as though every single person who has taken up residence is under Malakar’s thumb.”

“Yes, but they are still human.” Elyria gave him a pointed look. “You really think they will welcome all these Arcanians as their neighbors? It’s hardly a perfect solution.”

“There is no such thing as a perfect solution,” said Tartanis. “But this is a good option. Luminaria is not far. There is shelter and space. The humans will cope.”