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Hurt flashed across Elder Larkess’s face, but it was Thraigg who responded in a low voice. “Ye can’t blame her, Ric. Lark explained when last we were here how gravely she was injured the night of the attack on yer family, and how she⁠—”

Elder Larkess interrupted Thraigg with the gentle shake of her head, smiling at the dwarf before straightening in her wild-woven chair and meeting Cedric’s eye. “You are right, dear boy. My long, long life is full of many regrets, not the least of which is letting you go that night, injured or not. But you must understand too. To you, I was simply your nanny, the human housemaid who had been with your family since before you were born. You did not know who I really was. Who your mother was. With your parents gone, I had nowhere to go but back to Elderglade. And to take you not only from the only home you’d ever known, but the only land you’d known? The life you’d known? Your very identity?

“You thought yourself human, had been raised human, and . . .” She sighed. “And along came this powerful, wealthy human benefactor who was ready to take you in, to raise you, to give you the steady, normal life you so deserved. The life you deserve still. There was no way for me to know then who he would end up being—who he was all along.” She paused, a slow breath hissing through pursed lips. “No way for me to know the very man who came to your rescue was the same one responsible for killing your parents.”

Cedric shifted on the bench, running his tongue across his teeth. He was loath to admit it because being angry felt good, felt more productive, than being sad, but he did understand.

To an extent.

“You’re right. You didn’t know. You didn’t know anything about Leviathan Church when he took Cedric in. Shouldn’t that have been reason enough not to let him go?” Elyria said, and Cedric realized that some of the anger still pulsing inside him was coming from her. “Even if the bastard had not turned out to be the evil piece of pond scum he was, he was a human, and Cedric is not. You alone knew he was part of Daephinia’s legacy, that he had magic—a sunbringer’s power, for fuck’s sake. And you left him to navigate all of that alone.”

Elder Larkess bristled. “You say that as though I had not kept as close an eye on him as I could, that I was not looking out for him. I have always had his best interests at heart. I would have found a way to tell him the truth when the time came, should it have come. But when it became clear that his magic was locked the night his parents were killed, I saw no need to intervene. Not until . . .” Her gaze drifted from Cedric back to Thraigg.

“Not until the Crucible,” Cedric finished for her.

“Aye, and we all know how that turned out,” said Thraigg with a sniff.

Larkess nodded. “As I said, I have regrets, though asking my friend to protect you inside the Sanctum is not one of them. Everything up to that point, though . . .” She interlaced her hands on the table with a shake of her head. “I did what I could from afar, doing my best to keep from puncturing the new peace you had found. I thought that as long as you were cared for and as long as you had your mother’s locket in your possession, still safely transformed, all else was moot. I knew where you were, and you were safe. That was enough.”

Cedric’s brow furrowed. “But I didn’t have her locket.”

“I understand that now. But back then, all I knew was that by the time I had healed, by the time I was able to return to your former home, Leviathan Church had already gone through and retrieved your family’s keepsakes for you. I’d assumed he gave you the locket when he passed along your father’s sword and ring. I was wrong, but I suppose it didn’t really matter. It was safe all these years, just not in the way I had thought.”

Cedric drew the locket out from beneath his tunic, running it back and forth along its chain. “At least he never knew,” he said satisfactorily. “All the years of manipulation, of longing for power, and he never knew half the crown was in his possession all along.” He looked to Elder Larkess. “I suppose it is a testament to your power that its true nature was so deeply concealed. Nothing but an ordinary locket, until . . .”

He willed a spark of sunfyre to the tip of his pointer finger, letting it glow for a moment before touching the locket’s smooth casing. The hidden runes etched into its surface revealed themselves the instant his magic brushed across it.

And then it was Elyria’s brow that was creasing. “Was it, though? That deeply concealed? I distinctly remember the first time I saw the locket—Tenny was wearing it at the welcome ball when we first arrived in Kingshelm. I’d asked her if it was normal for humans to have multiple mana tokens, because that’s what I thought it was.”

“What do you mean?” Elder Larkess looked taken aback, but Elyria only shrugged.

“It was like it was humming. Singing to me, just for a second. But I wrote it off—there were so many tokens in the room that night. And just a few other distractions.” She gave Cedric’s arm a final squeeze before releasing it.

“And now?” Larkess asked eagerly, leaning forward. “Can you still sense it? Is it still singing to you?”

Elyria frowned, pivoting her body to look at Cedric head-on. She reached for the locket, now resting against his clavicle. He suppressed a delighted shiver when her fingers grazed the skin over his collarbone.

“Maybe?” she said after a beat. “It’s difficult to tell. My wild magic is very loud here”—she dropped the locket and gestured to the surrounding glade—“while my . . . my shadows are quiet.”

“What does that mean?” asked Shep, turning to Elder Larkess.

“What’re ye thinking, Lark?” asked Thraigg at nearly the same time.

“I am not sure,” Larkess replied. “It feels like something, though. I want to discuss this with the rest of the council.” She refocused her attention on Cedric. “If you wish to be angry with me, I will not try to dissuade you. I did what I thought best with what I knew. I would make many different choices, if I could go back. I will make different choices moving forward, so long as time allots me the ability to do so. And one of those choices is to focus on restoring the crown so you can fulfill your destiny, Dawnbringer.”

Cedric wanted to snort at the mention of destiny, but he simply gave the elder a tight nod. The conversation, in combination with Elyria’s proximity, had already settled some of his rage. He knew it was unfair to hold Larkess responsible for Varyth Malchior’s past evils.

Besides, there was a much worse, much more pressing target that deserved his wrath.

Like she could tell exactly where his mind was going, or perhaps because it was where hers went too, Elyria leaned into him. “Has there been any news of Malakar’s movements since the night I escaped?”

Larkess shook her head sadly. “I could not say—we do not know. We have seen no signs nor heard anything of him or his followers over the past few days. But that, of course, means little.”

“It wasn’t exactly like the streets had been buzzing with talk of the dark sorcerer’s plans even before we got Elle back,” said Jocelyn.

Cedric pinched the bridge of his nose. “Exactly. If there’s one thing Malakar and Varyth Malchior share⁠—”

“Aside from the same fucking body,” Elyria griped.