Chapter 16 Clipped Wings
CLIPPED WINGS
ELYRIA
The judgmental chatter of observers had been audible during the entire carriage ride through the city, so Elyria was not surprised when she stepped out onto the cobblestone streets of the Walk to see a gathering of onlookers.
With hands fisted in the skirt of her long wintergreen dress and matching cloak, her breath fogged in the air as she took in the crowd—the awe and wariness on their faces, their tattered clothing.
A good number of those present were children, having just run out from the orphanage that was Elyria’s destination today.
Those gathered seemed to swell around Elyria as she walked forward, something that had both Ollie and Jocelyn moving in close behind her. Cautious energy pulsed off them both, palpable.
“It’s fine,” Elyria said, voice low. “They’re just interested.”
“We shouldn’t have taken the carriage,” Ollie grumbled, hand lightly laid on the hilt of his sword. “Even having sent the gryphons back to Nyrundelle, it’s so ostentatious. No wonder we drew a crowd.”
“What was our alternative?” Elyria asked.
“We could have flown down here ourselves,” Ollie said, wings fluttering irritatedly before folding down tight against his back. “Could’ve been in and out, quick as lightning.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
Elyria scoffed. “You really think that would have been less ostentatious?”
“He’s not wrong,” said Jocelyn, her voice low. “The two of you take up far less space than a carriage, and you can fly much faster than one too. I would have been happy to remain at the palace with—”
“As though we would have come without you,” Elyria said, cutting her off. Both Ollie and Jocelyn’s cheeks reddened at the gentle reprimand.
The three of them strode up the stairs to the door of the orphanage, bypassing the duo of royal guards waiting in front.
Several small children trailed after them—scrappy little things with wide eyes and grime streaked across their hollow cheeks.
She gestured for Jocelyn to hand over one of the satchels the guard had looped over her shoulders, then pulled three shiny apples from within and handed them to the children.
They shrieked with glee as they ran past Elyria into the house, shouting about their prizes.
Elyria’s heart gave a little leap when her gaze landed on a head of tousled chestnut hair crouched just on the other side of the threshold, talking to a little girl, perhaps just five or six summers.
Her red curls bounced as she brandished her apple in front of Cedric’s face like it was her most prized possession.
The knight beamed, as though the child were presenting him with the stars-damned Crown of Concord itself.
“I’ll give him this much,” Ollie said as he came up behind Elyria, “he truly does seem to care, doesn’t he?”
Elyria said nothing, only continued watching through the open doorway as a slightly older boy joined Cedric and the little girl. The knight ruffled the boy’s hair, a heartbreakingly casual gesture that had conflicting emotions tangling and untangling in Elyria’s chest.
The little girl stretched her arm, tiny fingers pointing directly at Elyria. “The Lady Victor gave it to me,” she said, her sweet voice tinged with pride.
Cedric’s head lifted, his gaze immediately meeting Elyria’s. Time seemed suspended for several heartbeats before he got to his feet. “So, you’ve decided to join us after all.”
Elyria crossed the threshold and entered the house. “Was that in doubt?”
He shrugged. “I never quite know what to expect with you.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she said nothing, only gestured for Ollie and Jocelyn to stay put at the entrance with the other guards.
The house was well-kept, Elyria thought, given its location .
. . and its purpose. The wall coverings were peeling from the corners and the banister of the staircase behind Cedric looked like it had seen better days but, considering the state of many of the other buildings in the Walk, she’d honestly expected much worse.
“Well, welcome, at any rate,” Cedric said. “Shall I introduce you to some of the little terrors?” Giggles erupted from the surrounding children, more of whom seemed to emerge from adjacent rooms with every passing second. “I should tell you they have already been duly warned about you.”
“Is that so?” She playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “What exactly have you been saying about me?”
“Only the truth. That you’re a ruthless Arcanian warrior who makes grown men cry—”
“And did you tell them how you know that?” she cut in with a smirk.
“—but that you’re mostly bark, little bite,” he continued, notedly sidestepping her remark. “Unless they get between you and your bacon.”
She grinned. “Now, that you would definitely know.”
“He also said you’re beautiful,” piped in the red-headed girl. Another round of giggles rang through the room.
“I said that you fight beautifully,” Cedric corrected quickly.
Elyria bit the inside of her cheek to keep her smile from growing. “I suppose the Revenant’s reputation really does precede me, doesn’t it?”
“Admittedly, a few of the children have been a bit warier than others. I tried to assuage their fears by assuring them the Revenant has a soft spot for orphans.”
“Do I?”
Cedric grinned broadly, the scar on his upper lip stretching tauntingly. “Orphans and kittens,” he said with a nod.
Elyria pursed her lips. “Ah, I see. The honorable Lord Victor is a liar.”
“Which part is a lie?”
“I don’t particularly care for cats.”
“What? What is wrong with cats?”
She shrugged. “They’re so . . . temperamental.”
Cedric gave her a pointed look, humor dancing in the tilt of his mouth. “And orphans?”
She smiled at the surrounding children before flicking her gaze back to Cedric, trailing a path from his gold-brown eyes down to his boots and back again. “Well. I can think of at least one I have some fondness for.”
His answering expression warmed something behind Elyria’s ribs. She thought he looked as though he might say more, but a small hand suddenly yanked on the hem of Elyria’s cloak and she didn’t get a chance to find out.
“Are you really the Revenant?” whispered the little girl.
“I am,” Elyria whispered back. “And who might you be?”
“Her name is Leia, ma’am,” the older boy answered for her.
“Well, that’s certainly impressive, Leia,” Elyria exclaimed, bending down, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You can change your voice? And make it sound like it’s coming from someone else’s mouth entirely? That is some impressive magic.”
Leia’s answering laugh was like a bell, sparking a unique kind of joy in Elyria.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” said the boy, cheeks flushing.
Elyria was already readying the words to clarify that she was only joking, that there was nothing to apologize for, when a high, clear voice cut across the room.
“Don’t fret, Jack. Lady Lightbreaker here was only teasing.
” Tenny descended the stairs with a basket of linens under one arm.
She patted the boy on the shoulder before offering Elyria a warm smile in greeting, her peach-colored satin dress shimmering slightly as she moved to Cedric’s side.
“I gave the housemistress coin for some sorely needed supplies,” Tenny told him, “and assured her we had things well in hand if she wanted to run over to the market.”
“Very good,” Cedric said.
“Sir Victor, where’s your funny friend today?” asked Jack. Several more children came up on either side of him, stars in their eyes as they looked at Cedric. Elyria found herself stepping back to make room for them all—nearly a dozen in total.
Cedric laughed, warm and genuine. “I’m afraid Sir Tristan has other duties to attend to today, but I will be sure to let him know you think him funny. It will be the highlight of his entire week.”
“And I’m sure it won’t go to his head at all,” added Tenny with an exaggerated shake of her head that had Jack laughing.
Elyria blinked as she watched the interaction unfold. It was like she was gazing through a window—on the outside, looking in. These children knew Cedric. He knew them. Spent enough time here to be on a first-name basis with them, had a history with them.
There was a lot of that going around lately, it would seem.
Her attention drifted back to Tenny, now carding her fingers through a little girl’s hair, the basket of linens dropped at her feet.
With a gentle touch, she separated the strands into sections and started to braid it.
It all looked so natural, so easy. Beside her, Cedric gesticulated wildly as he launched into a truncated version of their battle with the fyre wyrm to an enraptured Jack and several other boys.
It was effortless. They were effortless.
Natural. Like pieces of a puzzle just begging to be put together.
And Elyria didn’t know how to name the feeling pressing in on her chest as she watched, the strangeness shimmying down her ribs until it consolidated into something sharp.
Vulnerable. A pang of something desperate and afraid, tugging at her.
As if he felt that same sudden pull, Cedric’s head snapped to Elyria, his gaze seeking hers. “Leaving already?”
“What? No, I—” Her head twisted to either side as she took in the doorway she was now standing in. She hadn’t realized how far she’d drifted as she observed the happy humans. “We, uh, brought more food.”
Despite her rather pathetic delivery of the words, squeals of excitement pierced the air.
Half the children who had been clustered around Cedric and Tenny ran forward, and Elyria clenched her jaw against the pang in her chest. She turned to Jocelyn and Ollie, still standing just on the other side of the front doorway, beckoning them forward with an outstretched hand.
As they crossed into the house, Jocelyn removed two of her satchels, handing one to Elyria and the other to Ollie.