Page 189

“She says as though she has a choice,” Kit said, coming up beside her.

Elyria huffed a laugh—part amusement, part resignation. “Fair enough. Think Agness is up for crafting me a whole new regal wardrobe to match?” She fiddled with the hem of her blouse. “Or, better yet, tell me it’s perfectly acceptable for queens to rule in training leathers and that there will be no need for such nonsense.”

“You keep treating your ball gowns the way you treat your leathers, and there’s no way in all four hells you’ll convince Agness to wield a single stitch for you,” said Kit.

“Bah, fine. Aerithia can keep her. Sylvan seamstresses have her beat anyway. Softest sheets I’ve ever slept in, I’m telling you.”

Kit and Cedric chuckled quietly, but the three of them soon lapsed into a heavy silence. Elyria turned her head toward the field, now a monument to the lives that had been taken—a memorial for their friends. Cedric had watched, amazed, as she spent most of yesterday single-handedly turning over the bloodstained soil, spreading seeds of wildflowers and new grass that would erupt in the spring.

Planting new life where there had only been death.

She’d covered the entire field, taking extra care around the seam where they had sealed the Chasm, as well as burying the now-sealed cavern opening under a mountain of dirt.

“It’s not right, is it?” Elyria’s voice was low. “To be thinking about these things, let alone joking about them, so soon.”

Cedric shifted his crown to one hand, then linked his fingers through hers. He could still feel the way her heart had split right open when she’d seen Ollie’s body, knew she mourned for Jocelyn with every beat of her wings. “Just because we grieve, it does not mean we are not allowed to feel joy, my love.”

Elyria bit her lip and gave a tremulous nod.

“And it’s thanks to you, Ellie, that we who remain are even alive to feel that joy in the first place.” Kit placed her hand on Elyria’s shoulder. “You stopped him. Don’t let guilt supplant your victory.”

Elyria shook her head. “It was our victory. We all stopped him.”

Cedric chuckled as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Your father was so hellsbent on warning you about how our life-bond might change you. I’d thought he was just being overprotective, but look at you—where has all this newfound humility come from?”

“You broke her, Ric.” Tristan strode up to Cedric’s side, one hand in his pocket, his other arm tied up in a sling.

Elyria pulled her hand from Cedric’s. The ground rumbled, the tiniest rupture tearing through the snow under Tristan’s feet, making him stumble.

“All right, all right,” said the knight, lifting his free hand in supplication. “So she’s still the same.”

Elyria’s mouth curved into that half-tipped smile Cedric loved.

“How’s that power feeling now?” Kit asked, eyes darting to the crown. “Still sleeping?”

“Yes,” said Elyria. “But I’m glad for it at the moment, to be honest. I had the barest taste of what real celestial power felt like when I thrust Ashrender through Malakar’s heart, and it’s not a burden I would ever want to carry.”

“You did give us a bit of a scare while you were down there, Ellie.”

Cedric looked at Tristan, and his throat tightened. “You both did.”

“Tsk, me? Just a flesh wound.” Tristan’s scarred cheek curved as the knight grinned broadly. “Not anything close to burying oneself underneath a mountain of stone.” He jutted his thumb at Kit. “I think this one was ready to dive into the center of the earth for you, Elle.”

“As I would for her.” Elyria swiveled her head to look at them both. “But your worry was needless, really. I just had to pick up a few things”—her crown tinkled like a soft bell when she reached up to rap her fingernails against it—“and, more importantly, make it so that no other self-important lunatics can find their way down to the Line in the future.”

“I’m sure others will come who are foolish enough to try,” said Cedric solemnly.

“Let them.” Elyria shrugged. “We will stop them, too.”

“You do bring up a good point there, knightling,” Kit said with a frown.

Tristan chuckled. “King or not, Ric, I’m afraid you’re not escaping the bevy of nicknames you’ve accumulated.”

Elyria nodded approvingly.

“What good point was I making, Kit?” Cedric said pointedly, throwing a glare at both Tristan and Elyria. Quartered hell, between the two of them he’d never know a moment’s peace again, would he?

“What you said about how others will come.” Kit pursed her lips to one side. “There’s sure to be a power vacuum among the dark and depraved now. Those who survived will still be looking for someone to worship.”