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“Best sleep I’ve had in a very long time,” Elyria said with a nod. Then, in her mind, she added, “Thanks to someone’s wonderfully talented fingers and the way he plunged them into my cu⁠—”

Cedric released a choking sort of sound, and she patted him on the back.

“All right there, Ric?” said Thraigg, brow arched.

“Of course,” said Cedric, giving Elyria a pointed look. “Just agreeing that Elle had a very good night, in the end.”

She served him an innocent smile. “Oh, the best.”

He flashed her one right back. “The proof was in how loudly she was snoring.”

She swatted his arm. “I do not snore.”

“Oh, you absolutely do, Ellie.”

Elyria whirled so quickly that her braid smacked Cedric square in the jaw. Disbelief had her vision going somewhat blurry. Or was that the immediate onset of wetness suddenly lining her lashes, making the inner corners prickle fiercely?

It didn’t matter. Bleary and blurred and wet, she was still there.

“Kit!” Elyria launched herself forward, closing the distance and leaping on her sister like some great mountain cat. Sid would be proud, she thought idly as she crashed into Kit, taking them both to the ground in a fit of tearful laughter. “You’re here.”

“And you’re much stronger than I remember,” Kit grumbled, though her mismatched eyes were glassy.

They both rose to their knees, then sat back on their ankles, hands remaining linked between them.

“Hi,” Elyria said, voice thick.

“Hi,” Kit replied.

And then they were colliding again, hands wrapping around shoulders and hooking behind necks, torsos drawn together in a shaking hug. It could have lasted a second or a minute or an hour—Elyria wouldn’t have known. All that mattered was that Kit was here and she was real, and yet another piece of herself seemed to anchor back into place inside her.

“If you ever do that again, I’m going to kill you,” Kit muttered into Elyria’s hair.

Elyria sniffed as she peeled back to look at her. “That seems fair.”

“’Fraid ye’d have to get in line, lass,” said Thraigg, wiping at his eyes.

“Yes,” Cedric agreed. “Lots of folks in front of you ready to lay waste to the Revenant should she ever dare pull that kind of—how did you put it, Elle?—self-sacrificing bullshit ever again.”

Elyria snorted as she got up from the ground, hauling Kit with her in one fluid pull. “The future king of Arcanis thinks himself a jester, does he?”

Cedric’s face immediately fell. “Now, that isn’t funny.”

“I thought it was funny,” offered Kit, dusting off the back of her laced leather breeches, then adjusting the sleeves of her blouse.

“See, she just gets me,” said Elyria. Then, turning to face her dearest friend once more, she blinked and said, “You’re really here.”

Kit reached out to tuck a lock of periwinkle hair behind Elyria’s ear. “Where else would I be?”

Elyria’s eyes stung. She swiped at them with the back of her hand as she took a more assessing look at Kit. Her moonlight-colored hair was longer, halfway to dusting her shoulders rather than being messily cropped around her chin. Still, it was mussed, sticking up in all directions. Her silver-and-gold wings were folded down, twitching somewhat listlessly against her back. How far had she flown to get here? How long? She had circles under her eyes and a sallowness to her skin that instantly made Elyria feel guilty for bragging about how well she’d slept last night.

Still, the sight of her made Elyria feel like a beam of sunshine was dancing straight across her soul.

Get ahold of yourself, Lightbreaker, she told herself.

Across their bond, Cedric’s mental voice held endless amusement. “Yes, what will the world think of the mighty Revenant going soft?”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” She threw him a smirk. “I have no doubt they’ll assume it’s due to your influence, Sir Crybaby.”