Page 86

Cedric made a face.

Elyria laughed.

And Kit arched a brow as her gaze flicked from one of them to the other and back again. “Yep, still not used to that.”

“Tell us about it,” said Shep quietly, and the comment was so unlike the sylvan that everyone else burst out laughing too.

Eventually, the group settled into a cadence of amiable chatter among themselves, with Shep and Jocelyn exchanging greetings with Kit that were, granted, not quite as intense as Elyria’s but still laden with emotion. It had been some time since they’d last seen her too, it would appear. Something settled deep inside Elyria at that knowledge, at the realization of how quickly everyone had leapt into action, to head off in different directions after she’d been taken—to figure out where she’d gone, to try to get her back.

The creak of wood broke through the noise both in and outside of her head, and the attention of the entire group was suddenly pinned to the council chamber door as it swung open.

“Ah,” said Elder Larkess, a tone of surprise in her voice. She took a few steps out of the doorway, and a line of sylvan elders shuffled out behind her—four of them in total, not including Larkess. The elders all nodded in greeting—and in apparent farewell—as they immediately began walking away. The last one, a proud-looking sylvan man with a particularly intricate tattoo creeping across his sage-green cheekbones, shot Elder Larkess a pointed look before he turned to leave.

“I take it the meeting’s concluded, then,” said Elyria, tilting her head quizzically. “Were we not supposed to meet with the council?”

Larkess smoothed a wispy lock of faded green hair against her temple. “We have convened. They’ve shared their thoughts.” She hesitated. “We are all in agreement that I will convey what the council thinks is the best course of action from here.”

“I see,” said Cedric, linking his fingers with Elyria’s.

Elyria gave him an affectionate smile, then took one of Kit’s hands with her free one and gave it a squeeze. “Well, what are we waiting for, then?” And with that, she strode into the council room, dragging both Cedric and Kit behind her.

It was like walking right into the heart of a tree. Warm light filtered down from a lattice of leafy branches woven across the low ceiling. Each leaf was luminescent, glowing soft and golden, as though the sun was streaming directly through.

Stars above, Elyria loved how wild it was here.

The branches spanned not only the ceiling, but the entirety of the room, the leaves disappearing but the wood itself thickening as they wove down the walls. They turned rootlike as they sprawled across the uneven floor, and Elyria’s boot caught on one particularly gnarled knot. She stumbled forward, nearly face-planting into a large round table in front of her, but a quick yank from both Cedric and Kit had her standing straight again.

“Easy there, Ellie,” Kit said, amusement evident in her tone.

“There’s a joke here somewhere about the literal support you two are providing me right now, but I just can’t quite seem to grasp it,” Elyria muttered before dropping both of their hands.

Elder Larkess was still by the door, ushering the rest of the group inside. “I’ve never known you to be the punctual sort, my friend,” she said to Thraigg as he lumbered past.

The dwarf barked a laugh. “Ye’ve got me there, Lark. But what can I say? It’s been a fair minute since we’ve all had this sort of . . .” He pursed his lips, as though searching for the right word.

“Hope?” Shep offered, trailing behind.

Thraigg gave a short nod. “Aye.”

Elyria’s brow creased at the smile that overtook Elder Larkess’s face—the way it was just the slightest bit sad. But before she had the chance to inspect it further, the sylvan was sweeping her white-robed arm out in a welcoming gesture. “Please, everyone, do take a seat.”

The table looked, fittingly, like it had been sliced straight from nature. The edges were raw, the tabletop ringed with seemingly infinite circles, as though the tree it had come from had a millennia’s worth of stories to tell.

Elyria slid into one of the high-backed chairs and ran her palm over the knots in the wood that made up each arm. “So, are you going to catch us up on what we missed or . . . ?”

The rest of the group took seats around the table—Cedric to Elyria’s right, Kit to her left, Thraigg and Jocelyn next to Kit. On Cedric’s other side, Shep slipped quietly into his seat, and then, beside him, was Elder Larkess.

The sylvan elder pressed her lips together as she surveyed each person present, as though contemplating very thoroughly what she wanted to say. Eventually, she turned to Cedric and held out her fist.

“Your mother’s locket,” she said, releasing her fingers so that the necklace dangled from her proffered hand.

Cedric blinked slowly at the locket, as if mesmerized by the slow swing—back and forth, back and forth. It took Elyria reaching under the table to lay a gentle hand on his knee before he seemed to realize he was being spoken to.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly, reaching to take the locket and hastily looping it around his neck.

“I take this to mean you still haven’t figured out how to undo the transfiguration then,” Elyria said sullenly.

“Not precisely. Although . . .” Larkess clasped her hands in front of her on the table, thumbs twisting around each other—a nervous tic.