It was impossible.
More than impossible.
Every cell in Elyria’s body was immovable, frozen. She could barely breathe. But there he was, almost exactly as she remembered him.
Dark hair. Bronze skin. Shimmering wings of black and gold.
Next to her, Kit gasped as Evander walked out of the shadows.
Gasped, and then collapsed, right there onto the stone floor of the Sanctum, her blue and green eyes pinned to her brother as thick tears carved tracks down her brown cheeks. “H-how?”
“I was starting to worry you had given up on me, Kitty Kat,” he said, and his voice had that same smooth lilt, that same mirthful intonation Elyria had known.Had loved.
Her heart pounded, each beat slamming against her ears like the tone of a bell. She felt like she was being held underwater, suspended in time, in space. The desire to rush forward, to touch him, warred with the instinct whispering warnings in the back of her mind.
She didn’t understand,couldn’tunderstand.
And she wasn’t the only one.
“Who are you?” Nox’s voice wasn’t exactly accusatory, more curious, though it was still laden with something that felt like apprehension.
“What is this?” Cedric asked at nearly the same time, his voice spiking across the haze in her head like a crystal whip—clear and cutting.
“You’ve already met my sister,” Evander said, kneeling next to Kit and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She sobbed harder.
Elyria still hadn’t moved an inch, though she felt heat emanating off Cedric’s body as he stood and took a step closer to her. He was tense, suspicion radiating from him, his fingers twitching at his sides as if itching to go to the hilt of his sword.
Evander’s golden eyes flicked to Elyria, and her heart might have stopped beating. “And you’ve also met my love,” he said. “My name is Evander Ravenswing, and I’ve been waiting for you all for a very long time.”
“Tell me again.”Elyria’s voice trembled as she gazed at Evander, sitting just to her left, legs splayed wide and sucking the juice of the strawberry he’d just eaten from his thumb.
“I’ve already told you everything I remember,” he said.
“Which is why I saidagain, obviously.”
Evander smiled at her, and her stomach clenched. His eyes crinkled in exactly the same way. His dimple—just on the left side, not the right—emerged in exactly the same spot. And Elyria wanted—wanted so, so badly—to believe it was real.
She couldn’t. Couldn’t trust his measured expression, his controlled reactions—so perfect, it was as if they’d been crafted for just this occasion. Couldn’t trust the overwhelming feeling of relief that wanted to crest inside her. She refused to let it. Refused to think that this wasn’tsome new cruel trick, some illusion of the Crucible.
Kit had no such qualms. That much was evident in the way she gazed at her brother as though he was every present she’d ever wished for and the realization of every dream she’d ever had.
Evander sighed good-naturedly, his smile unfaltering, like he was slightly exasperated but would humor her, nonetheless. It was a sigh Elyria remembered well, though she felt a kind of sharpness just under the surface. As though his reaction, this replica of the past, was a littletooperfect.
“My fellow champions were felled, one by one, by the trials,” Evander said. “Ultimately, by the time we got through the Trial of Magic, only I remained. Me...and him.”
“Varyth Malchior,” Nox said, shaking their head as if it might erase the ludicrous notion. Elyria didn’t blame them. She herself had nearly laughed out loud when Evander first mentioned his name. But it was only because the infamous leader of the dreaded Cult of Malakar felt more like the villain in a children’s story than an actual person by now.
Evander’s next sigh was far less good-humored. “Yes. As I’ve said.”
“You’ll have to forgive our skepticism, Lord Ravenswing,” Cedric said dutifully, and Elyria choked on her wine upon hearing the honorific spill from the knight’s lips.
Evander turned to face Elyria. “Your human is very polite,” he said, a smirk playing on his full lips. She took a measured sip from her goblet to keep herself from scowling.
Cedric ignored the barb. “You must understand, we simply find it difficult to wrap our heads around the knowledge that Varyth Malchior not only entered the Crucible last time, but allegedly made it out? Despite the fact that none have ever managed to do the same?”
“Yes, well, what else would you expect of a descendent of the dark sorcerer himself?” Evander’s golden gaze ran down Cedric before flicking back to his face, like he was sizing him up.
A defensive prickle surged in Elyria’s chest.
