Chapter 11 Status Quo
STATUS QUO
CEDRIC
The morning came and went, and Cedric was not in Lord Church’s study.
No, he awoke at first light rather surprised to find a summons from the lord waiting for him.
One that not only reneged on his former command that Cedric report to his office but replaced it with instructions to attend a midday meeting with King Callum in the council room.
Cedric wasn’t about to complain. Swapping out the lord’s windowless, dark-paneled study for the bright, airy council chamber, with its long, polished table and bright golden banners, was a rather welcome change, in fact.
And with the delay in his schedule, instead of spending his morning regaling an almost assuredly disappointed Lord Church with a boring report of all the useless information he and Tristan had dug up in Paideus, Cedric could go back to sleep.
Well, a greater man might have been able to do so.
Cedric, however, couldn’t stop replaying the events of last night in his mind. The attack, the commotion, the wicked surge of his power . . . Elyria’s mind-boggling beauty. The feel of her skin under his palm, the hitch of her breath.
He’d had to take another shower—a cold one, this time—to get himself to stop replaying the latter.
Regardless, Cedric wasn’t put out by the change in plans. He was a bit surprised by it, though, given the way he and Lord Church had left things the previous night. Just as he was also surprised—pleasantly so—to see the Arcanians already seated when he arrived.
Though he recognized Barcroff and several additional members of the king’s council, not to mention Lord Church, Cedric’s gaze skipped over them entirely.
Rather, his attention immediately went to the fae sitting halfway down the table, long fingers drumming on the tabletop.
Elyria’s periwinkle hair was braided down her back, and though she did not turn to look at him, it was impossible not to notice the tension in her shoulders, the straight path of her spine. She was not happy.
Cedric’s chest throbbed.
To her left, Kit had her arms folded over her chest. To her right, Dentarius’ expression was neutral, but tense.
Cedric had noted the two fae standing amongst the royal guards in the hall outside the council chamber, but there was no sign of Thraigg, Nox, or the sylvan guard Cedric had heard was making fast friends with some of his fellow knights in the barracks.
Perhaps after the events of last night, the delegation had decided to have their most visually Arcanian members keep a low profile.
The thought rankled Cedric.
Kit and Dentarius both nodded cordially as Cedric stepped farther into the room, though that was the extent of the welcome. He had the distinct feeling his arrival had interrupted something.
“Ah, Sir Thorne.” King Callum’s voice was warm as he gestured from his seat at the head of the table, beckoning Cedric forward. “I am delighted you could finally join us.”
Cedric bowed low. “Your Majesty. My deepest apologies. Am I late? My summons bade me report here at midday.”
From his seat to the king’s right, Lord Church raised steepled fingers to his chin. “I’m quite sure it said to be here mid-morning, but I suppose late is always preferable to never.”
Cedric smothered the protest that wanted to burst from his mouth. It most certainly had not said that, but he wasn’t about to argue with the lord. Not in front of the king.
Lord Church’s lips quivered at the edge, as though he couldn’t contain his satisfaction over Cedric’s decision not to contradict him.
And Cedric wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but then the king was gesturing again, urging Cedric forward with evident impatience.
He slid into an open seat at the table, directly across from Elyria.
She still wouldn’t look at him.
Cedric nervously twirled his ring around his finger.
He wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t put it away after last night.
He was typically so protective of it. He hadn’t even been willing to wear it into the Sanctum.
Still, there was something comforting about its presence now.
At least it gave him something to do with his hands.
Barcroff cleared his throat. “Shall we continue?”
Kit leaned forward, blowing her silver hair out of her face as she released a long sigh. “Has the council changed their minds so quickly? If not, I do not see how we are to continue, nor where we are to go from here.”
“Do not be unreasonable—”
“Forgive my directness, Your Majesty, but I do not understand the council’s reticence in allowing us leave to search for Varyth Malchior. The agreement struck with my unc—with King Lachlandris gives you access to the mana of the Midlands in exchange for your cooperation here.”
“And as we have already explained, Lady Ravenswing, there are additional factors that must be considered,” answered Lord Church.
The king hummed in agreement, fingers tapping along the armrest of his chair as though he was greatly entertained by the erupting argument.
“What factors?” Kit’s jaw was so tight, Cedric suspected she could have cracked a walnut between her teeth.
“If you were truly committed to stopping the Cult of Malakar, you would not be making this so difficult for us. We have patiently awaited the opportunity to speak with you today. Now you tell us we must wait longer yet, when each day we delay is another day Malchior—and the Crown of Concord—grows farther from reach. Last night’s attack was nothing if not a sign that we have already fallen behind. ”
Several council members exchanged uneasy glances, shifting in their high-backed chairs. Cedric’s mind was working overtime to catch up on the parts of this discussion he had so clearly missed.
“What happened at the ball was proof that things are far more tenuous than we’d previously assumed,” said Lord Church.
“There are many logistics still to work through. The local constabularies in the towns you wish to investigate must be given proper notice of your presence. These things take time. Surely, you wouldn’t want any misunderstandings resulting in more occurrences like last night, would you? ”
Kit’s mismatched eyes narrowed, just a fraction, before she turned to address King Callum directly. “So, give us your seal. A writ. A permit. Something to show anyone who might ‘misunderstand’ our presence. Surely, overcoming this obstacle is as easy as that, Your Majesty.”
The king frowned thoughtfully as he considered the suggestion, but Cedric’s gut twisted.
Something about these delays didn’t sit right with him.
He knew for a fact that missives had already gone out weeks ago, informing the towns bordering the Chasm of the Arcanians’ impending arrival.
Every constable in Havensreach should already be aware of the terms of the accords.
So why was Lord Church pretending otherwise?
“We can’t just have you gallivanting off and risking your own safety on some wild goose chase through the realm,” finished the lord.
Elyria, seated beside Kit, leaned back in her chair with a sharp exhale. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, “but was that not the entire stars-damned point of inviting us here?”
Cedric fought the twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Lord Church ignored her interruption, continuing as if she hadn’t spoken. “Furthermore, we still await the arrival of the second part of your party from Nyrundelle. It would be premature to finalize any plans without them.”
Dentarius straightened in his chair. “Premature? With all due respect, Lord Paramount, Malchior has had his hands on half of the crown for nearly three months already. How much more of a lead do you wish to grant him?”
Elyria huffed in agreement. Dentarius leaned over to say something to Kit in a voice too low for Cedric to hear.
Whispers rose from the council members still squirming uncomfortably in their seats, and Cedric got the distinct feeling that this entire meeting was only a few poorly chosen words away from exploding.
“In fairness, we do not know for absolute certain that Varyth Malchior has the crown,” Cedric offered, though before he’d even finished saying the words, he wished he could retrieve them.
Elyria’s gaze snapped to him. “You cannot be serious. Even you are not that naive.”
“I’m only saying—”
“That Zephyr might have fucked us over on someone else’s behalf instead? Forgive me if I’d honestly rather she work for the Cult of Malakar’s leader than contend with the idea that there’s another evil out there waiting around the bend.”
“Our victor makes an excellent point,” offered Lord Church, the words stretching across the table. “There is simply still much that remains unknown, and—”
“Oh, what do you know?” Elyria interrupted, every syllable sharp. “You weren’t even there.”
“Ellie.” A single note of warning rang in Kit’s voice.
“What? It’s true. If he’d been with us in the Crucible, if he’d seen what became of Ev—” She sucked in a breath, as if trying to steady herself.
“If he had seen the way she stole the crown right out of my grasp, had watched the blood drip from my hand”—Cedric’s jaw tightened at the memory—“and had heard what she said, he would know there is no other conclusion to draw. To even suggest so is idiocy.” Her jeweled gaze narrowed on Cedric.
“Which begs the question of how you can.”
“You are not the only one who feels betrayed, Elyria,” Cedric said, his voice low.
“I never pretended to be. But if last night taught us anything—”
The king raised his palm in the air and the argument ceased, all eyes in the room instantly trained on him.
“The events of last night have indeed changed things. Opened my eyes. I see now that my proclamations for unity and peace were, perhaps, too hasty. The people are wary, fearful—angry, even. They need time to adjust, or I fear last night will quickly become only the first sign of their discontent.”