Celestials save him, this cat really was a piece of her creator, wasn’t she?
Cedric couldn’t make sense of the sharp emotions tangled in his chest. It was a cocktail of guilt, curiosity, helplessness, anger, and he didn’t know which ones belonged to him and which belonged to the fae he was pursuing through the woods.
If Raefe was to be believed—and Cedric hated that any part of him was even entertaining the bastard’s words, but what would be gained in lying?—then Elyria’s entire life had been shaped in connection with one terrible man after another.
The dark sorcerer Malakar, whose power went to Elyria the night of the Shattering, causing her to spend a century trying not to be consumed by her inner darkness.
Varyth Malchior, who was responsible for what happened to Evander during the Crucible, responsible for that heartbreaking end. He tainted even the memories of what was perhaps one of the only good things in Elyria’s life.
Then there was Evander himself, who, granted, was not terrible at all, as Cedric understood it. Not until he’d been corrupted by Malchior’s darkness—Malakar’s darkness. Not until he’d succumbed to its lure and tried to eliminate Kit and Cedric and anyone else who stood in between him and getting out of the Sanctum he’d been trapped in. Who stood between him and Elyria.
And now, her father, whose motivations were shrouded in mystery but couldn’t be good based on what Cedric knew. Based on how Elyria was reacting now.
And here Cedric had been, stewing in resentment over Lord Church’s interference in his life. Here he was, thinkinghehad it rough.
Whatever misguided attitudes the lord paramount might have had—might still have—he had long been the premiere presence in Cedric’s life. Perhaps he’d been too quick in his recent judgments. Lord Church was, after all, a man who was willing to put in work, to get his own hands dirty. That was apparent enough in their dealings on the road to Luminaria. He hadn’t evenneededto accompany Cedric to the Lost City. The lord could have easily taken the opportunity to visit hisestate in Seastone rather than guide Cedric to the Gate himself.
The man was a set of contradictions. There was Lord Paramount Leviathan Church, right-hand of the king, a man with little patience for foolishness and even less for incompetence. And then there was Tenny’s father, and the closest thing Cedric himself had to one. Amused and occasionally patient and even, sometimes, kind.
Cedric bit the inside of his cheek, the memory of Lord Church’s words as they traversed across the Chasm ringing in his ears.
“Mercy is a luxury of the weak,”he had told Cedric, mere moments after disposing of the bandits who had tried to rob them.“You would do well to remember this for the trials ahead.”The lord paramount’s justice was swift and brutal. But there was also something like softness behind his hardened exterior, wasn’t there?
“You have a strong heart, Cedric. Stronger than you realize. You can do this.I believe with every fiber of my being that you are the only one who can.”
Cedric’s shoulders felt heavy with the weight of wondering what the lord might think about what he was doing right here, right now. Chasing after the very fae he was supposed to best in the Crucible. Who was, at one time, his enemy.
Seeking her in more ways than one.
Sid yowled as Elyria finally came into view, leaning against the narrow, striped trunk of a white birch, her back to Cedric, wings cloaked. Shadows swirled around her ankles as the final dregs of sunlight filtered down through the branches overhead, the edges of her periwinkle hair lit by the rays of the setting sun.
Light above, dark below, Elyria was twilight personified. The perfect meshing of day and night.
“You’re persistent, I’ll grant you that,” Elyria said. She didn’t bother to turn around, so Cedric couldn’t be positive whether she was speaking to him...or the cat.
Sid bounded ahead, weaving between Elyria’s boots and batting at the shadows swirling there as though they were balls of yarn. Then, with a glance back at Cedric that looked suspiciously like a smirk, she disappeared into the ether once more.
“You never answered my question,” Cedric said, stepping closer even as he shook his head over the exasperating creature’s behavior.
Elyria peered at him over her shoulder. “You already know the answer.”
Cedric waited.
“Yes,” she said, the word carried on a heavy sigh. “Tartanis is my father. For lack of a better term.”
Her voice was sharp, bitter, but when she finally turned to face him, there was something fractured in her expression. A crack in her control, her pride—the distance she wielded like a weapon. She looked so vulnerable that there was nothing Cedric could do to stop his legs from carrying him forward, from letting thattugin his chest guide him directly to her.
Elyria stiffened as Cedric drew his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace. Then, like the final snow before spring, she melted into his arms.
“Don’t,” she said, but she didn’t try to disentangle herself, even as she added, “It’s not the time. Not the place.”
The words weren’t cold. Weren’t cruel. She just sounded . . . tired.
“When will be?” Cedric asked. “By the celestials’ grace, we were granted this extra time together. Should we not capitalize on it?”
“What an apt choice of words, given the previous topic of conversation,” she mumbled into his shirt.
Cedric swallowed. “Is that what Tartanis did? Capitalized on you? On your name, your status as the Revenant?”
