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“They don’t know,” she repeated, and Shep gave a sad nod. “But they also don’t know Ellie.” She squared her shoulders, set her jaw. Because if anyone in Arcanis could defy the odds, could defy fate and physiology altogether, Elyria Lightbreaker could.

“Your faith in her is not misplaced. Perhaps it will simply take more time. Perhaps the celestials have other plans in store for her.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Kit said with a huff. “The more entangled we seem to get with the star gods, the more I doubt their plans and promises.”

Shep inhaled sharply through his nose at Kit’s words, but she found herself surprisingly unfazed by her casual blasphemy. Still, to appease the sylvan, she added, “But none of that is either here nor there now.”

A moment of silence passed between them, with Shep shifting awkwardly on his toes. Kit knew he was waiting for her to dismiss him, to encourage him to go through the gate and relieve Thraigg from patrol duty, as intended.

Instead, she said, “What do you think, Shep? Is there a chance she will fly again?”

He took a moment before answering. “Even if she were not fate-blessed, I would think it foolish to bet against Elyria Lightbreaker.”

“She really is too stubborn to fail, isn’t she?”

“A trait the two of you share, I think.”

Kit smiled. “Your time spent with the council of elders here has left you quite enlightened, hasn’t it?”

“There is much I’ve learned in my time here, true. But it’s not just because of the elders. It’s this whole place, its people. My sylvan kin and the mixedborn children being raised here. As well as the ones who are children no longer.”

“How many mixedborns are there, do you think?”

Shep tilted his head. “Living here currently? Dozens. Including those who grew up in the safety of the sanctuary before leaving to make their own way in the world? Who knows.”

“It’s still somewhat inconceivable that I never knew this place existed. Or, rather, we all knew Elderglade existed, just not what it truly was. Not that it was this . . . this haven.” Kit waved to their general surroundings.

“What reason does the average person have to wander into the Midlands? If one were seeking the skills or tutelage of sylvan healers, Verdentia is much closer, much larger, and much more accessible. Elderglade has always kept to itself, right on the edge of the world. It was the perfect place to provide refuge.”

“Does it ever make you wonder? How many people we may have met in our daily lives who might’ve been mixedborn, and we simply never knew?”

“Would it have mattered to know?”

“No,” Kit said, voice firm. “Of course it doesn’t matter to me. Though I’m sure it would matter to many on the human side of the Chasm. I’m simply curious. I mean, just look at Ric. You’d never know, unless you knew, you know?”

Shep nodded. “Right. Most can pass as either human or Arcanian, depending on the gifts they may or may not have been born with. And it’s a blessing they can, too. As you said, those who want to find their footing in Havensreach must do so . . . delicately.”

Kit’s brow creased. That was certainly putting it lightly. The very reason this sanctuary existed was because Malakar had so thoroughly poisoned the peoples of Havensreach against Arcanians and mixedborn alike. Dwarves got more of a pass than others due to the highly sought-after nature of their weapons and armors, but outside of the traders, being found to be unhuman had been a jailable offense, if not an outright death sentence, for centuries.

But that was before, Kit reminded herself. Before the delegation. Before the accords. Before Cedric and Elyria became victors of the Crucible together. Before Kit herself had been the impetus for the latter going through the Gate in the first place and kicking off this entire string of events. And that was entirely too heavy a thought for her to be having right now, what with the status of Elyria’s wings still up in the air, as it were.

“If only we all were granted the power of the Verdant Veil like you sylvans, Shep,” Kit teased. She pulled at the frayed edges of her silver hair, twisting a lock around her finger. “I wouldn’t mind the ability to change forms, that’s for sure. I wonder how different it feels, to fly with feathers rather than fae wings.”

“Not all of us can shapeshift,” he reminded her with a smile.

“To glamour myself, then. Maybe it would prevent me from making . . . hasty decisions whenever I get bored with my hair.”

Shep laughed. “That is certainly one advantage. As is, admittedly, this.” He rubbed his sage hands together, and when he pulled them apart, a soft ball of light was suspended between them. Kit watched, transfixed, as Shep tossed the ball onto the ground before them. It rolled in a spiraling circle, leaving a starlit trail in its wake, before disappearing through the entrance gate.

“See, now, that’s neat,” Kit said with an impressed dip of her chin. Then she laughed. “I’m surprised Thraigg hasn’t come running back through the gate after that—must’ve been quite the surprise.” Shep grinned and shrugged, and Kit added, “Your magic is strong here.”

“It’s the Veil. We feel it strongest here and in Verdentia. It’s why my brethren are usually loath to spend too long away from home.”

“So, why did you leave, then? What brought you to Aerithia? Led you to become a member of the king’s guard and got you assigned to accompany our sorry asses to Kingshelm?” She shoved her hands into her pockets, her eyes still tracing the glowing path that Shep’s magic had lit. “I actually feel like a bit of an asshole for never having asked you this before.”

“You are most definitely not one of those, my lady. The truth is, as much as I love my home, I never found myself satisfied with the quiet lives my people prefer to live. I longed for the excitement and bustle of the city, of meeting new friends and having new adventures. It’s why being part of the delegation was such a dream.”

Kit arched a brow, and Shep released another laugh.