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“Right,” he said, clapping a heaving Thraigg on the back. “Who fancies a drink at the Walking Goat?”

It was even better than he recalled.

The tavern was a squat, stone-built structure with wide windows and a cheerfully crackling hearth. Fortunately, the tavern master remembered Cedric, and within seconds of the group having entered, was ushering them past throngs of drinking, chattering patrons to a series of booths along the left wall.

Cedric had wondered, briefly, if sentiment toward him might have changed, given the new state of the world and his starkly Arcanian travel companions. But whether because the accords meant accepting the fact that Arcanians now could come freely to Havensreach or just because Cedric himself had garnered a reputation for being in Arcanian company, not a single person present had a sour word to say.

The only one who said anything to them at all, in fact, was the lovely Miss Sabrina, whom Cedric recognized from his previous visits. The poor girl hounded Cedric the instant his rear touched his seat, immediately inquiring as to Tristan’s whereabouts. The crestfallen look on her face when Cedric had to inform her that he was not, in fact, traveling with the knight this time was something that would surely feed his friend’s ego for a month.

Best not to tell him for that precise reason, he thought, and Elyria’s responding laugh bounced through his head. Their mind-to-mind connection was even stronger now in the wake of their completed life-bond, their inner thoughts that much easier to access. Cedric would have to be mindful of that.

“Oh, you will, will you?” Elyria said as she slid into the booth next to him, pressing close.

Cedric gave her an arch look. “Evidently. I already have enough trouble not making a fool of myself around you. I tremble at the thought of what you’ll do with unfettered access to my mind.”

Kit and Jocelyn exchanged a puzzled look when Elyria began giggling aloud.

“Four hells,” Jocelyn muttered.

“Nope. Still not used to it,” Kit said with a shake of her head.

The warmth of the tavern settled into Cedric’s bones as the tavern master delivered metal tankards full of ale and a few platters piled high with biscuits and jams, dried meats and fruits.

“Any cider?” Elyria asked hopefully, and the degree to which her bottom lip had jutted out when the man shook his head made Cedric, Kit, and Jocelyn all burst out laughing . . . at least until Elyria kicked each one of them under the table.

It was odd, he recognized. To be laughing, drinking, to feel carefree and at ease, knowing what they could be facing tomorrow. His discordant feelings must have found their way down the bond, because Elyria took Cedric’s hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Like she was telling him it was all right to sit in this contentment. To allow himself the freedom to just be—here, now, in this moment.

And because, of course, they were all very aware it wasn’t to last.

Cedric just didn’t think it would come to a close quite so soon.

A series of gasps rang through the room, and Cedric’s hand shot to Ashrender, which he’d leaned against the side of the booth. But the alarm suddenly singing from the tavern’s patrons was not because they were under attack. Multiple things did happen at once, however.

First the tavern doors burst open.

Then the air over the table in front of Cedric shimmered and broke open, and a cub-sized Sid leapt out of the air onto the tabletop, deftly avoiding stepping in Kit’s mug.

And before the rift in the air had sealed shut, out flew a small sparrow. It circled the table before landing on Elyria’s outstretched hand.

Surprise had Cedric’s mouth gaping open. “You sent a sparrow? When?”

Elyria nodded. “Early this morning, while we were stepping north. I wanted to give Tenny an update on how we were faring.”

Kit’s mismatched eyes widened the smallest degree. “How long does it take a sparrow to arrive at its destination?” she asked.

Elyria shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? I would assume it vastly depends on the destination. Faster than we are able to traverse through the shadows ourselves though.”

“Amazing,” Kit said, with Jocelyn nodding along proudly.

Cedric couldn’t join the fae in marveling at his solimaeus’s shadow mastery, at how simple it now seemed for her to do so many fantastical things. Nor could he do more than stop Jocelyn’s drink from tipping over, a near casualty of Sid’s tail as the shadowcat leapt off the table.

The sparrow opened its dark beak, and out came Tenny’s high, bright voice.

“All blessings to the Five that we will see you again soon,” she said. “And in such wonderful circumstances too. My update is that King Callum received my missive to reroute the forces he was sending to Luminaria. They have just arrived, and we now have the village surrounded. We await your arrival. Stars above, it’ll be so good to see—wait, Tristan, leave it. I said, I have it—don’t touch that!”

And then the sparrow cut off, dissipating in a puff of smoke, leaving everyone at the table gaping. Cedric could sense the tension shift perceptibly. Kit’s eyes softened, even as she continued staring at the spot where the sparrow had disappeared. Jocelyn’s lips pressed together, her eyes lifting to the ceiling as if in silent thanks. Directly behind her, Cedric could see Shep’s shoulders drop, and he and the other sylvans occupying the next booth toasted with one another.

They weren’t the only ones toasting, though.