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CEDRIC
“I’m proud of you, you know.” The moon and stars were hidden behind cottony gray clouds as Cedric stared up through the skylight cut into the ceiling of their hut. Upon receiving Elyria’s consent, Larkess had swept away with Young Shep to make preparations. They would attempt to repair her wings first thing in the morning.
From her position on the bed next to him, her head lying against his bare chest, Elyria peered up at him. “For what?”
“I know it’s not an easy thing to allow them to try to reattach your wings. And while I also know you to be beyond capable of doing hard things”—he ignored her smirk—“it doesn’t make it any less admirable that you’re willing to try anyway.”
Elyria huffed out a breath through her nose. “I don’t know about that. Feels pretty cowardly, actually, the way I’ve been acting. I just . . . It’s not like I was lying, you know? About feeling like this shouldn’t be the priority. About not wanting to risk anything for something as selfish or self-serving as this.”
“It’s not self—”
“It is. But . . . maybe it’s okay to be a little bit selfish? Just for a minute? Especially if it—and stars a-fucking-bove, it’s scary as all four hells to admit this aloud, but if it works . . . I mean, let’s look at the best-case scenario, right? I get my wings back, they heal up fine and dandy, and then I get to face the one who’s been whining about needing to be ‘at full power’ while being at actual full power myself. There’s just something deliciously poetic about that, isn’t there?”
“Oh, undeniably.” Cedric smiled into her cherry-almond-scented hair.
“And I suppose that even if it—” Elyria swallowed. “If it doesn’t work, at least I’ll be able to say I tried. And it’ll eliminate the not knowing. There’s little I hate more than the nebulous unknown, you know?”
He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Oh, how I know.”
She lifted herself off him slightly, propping herself up on one elbow, her jewel-toned eyes meeting his. “Thank you,” she said, lips curved into a gentle smile.
Cedric’s forehead creased. “Thank me? For what?”
She shrugged. “For letting me think out loud to you. For providing the space and the support to decide on my own, even if I know you had . . . opinions . . . on what I should do.”
“I would never presume to tell you—”
“I know. Thus, the thank you. Because it’s a rare thing indeed to find a man so willing to let a woman come to her own conclusions these days.” She laughed, but the furrow of Cedric’s brow only deepened.
“You’re talking about your father.”
“I’m talking about all men. But sure. Fine. Maybe.” She released a sigh. “I was surprised when Kit told me she met with him, but I don’t begrudge her for doing so, honestly. It makes sense. Her uncle is being a royal ass. There is still so much about Malakar’s influence, the pieces he has put into play, that we don’t know. And shockingly, it’s not like Tartanis is asking for much in exchange for helping. I just . . .”
“You just still don’t know how you want to reply,” he offered, “and that’s perfectly reasonable.”
“Is it?” Elyria bit her lip, and Cedric did his very best not to let the feral instinct that flared within him at the sight burst to the surface. Four hells, with the amount of energy he was expelling to tamp down the regular surges of possessive, horny fury, it was no wonder he was constantly exhausted.
“He’s only asking to meet,” Elyria continued. “I should say yes, right? Especially if he really is willing to exert his influence on the king in order to help. It would be foolish of me to decline.”
“Kit made him no promises other than to relay his message. He is the one who said he would help in exchange for merely the chance to get you to hear him out. And frankly . . .”
“Frankly, what?”
Cedric inhaled through his nose. “I have my doubts as to whether or not that is true. From what you’ve told me about him, and what I’ve learned from others, it does not exactly paint the picture of a trustworthy man.”
She sighed again—wearier, deeper this time. “Unfortunately, that is one thing you’re wrong about. It would be easier, frankly, if he were a lying lowlife. But while a lowlife he may be, he is a man of his word. Trust is like currency to men like him. He doesn’t squander it easily.”
“Even better, then. You are not beholden to him. If he is a man of honor”—he considered—“or at least of a certain type of honor, then you do not owe him anything other than your consideration of his offer.”
“And if by meeting with him, we could secure an even greater advantage? If I could somehow convince him to help more?”
“I would still never ask you to do something you are not comfortable with, would never want you to—”
“And thus we circle right on back to ‘thank you,’” she said, grinning.
Cedric scooted into a more upright position, pulling Elyria up with him so he could lean against the headboard. Sid let out an irritated noise from the foot of their bed as he jostled her sleeping form. With a grumble, she leapt off the mattress and sauntered into the bathing chamber. Cedric watched with rapt fascination as she tore a towel from its hook on the wall, padded in a circle, and then settled atop it—before shutting the door with a shadowy flick of her tail.
Elyria snorted. “I think she’s a little pissy over not being able to step back into the shadows while she’s in here.”
