Chapter 18 Take a Break
TAKE A brEAK
ELYRIA
She was going to snap.
She was going to abso-fucking-lutely lose it.
Despite Kit’s assurances, the second half of the delegation still had yet to show their faces in Kingshelm, and Elyria thought she very well might go insane if she had to report for one more inane, pointless meeting or ceremony.
Unfortunately, the visit to the Walk and the delight she found in the children there two days ago had been the last glimmering kernel of light Elyria had found in this fucking farce.
It had been nearly two full weeks of this bullshit—it was more than enough. Not even her flirty encounter with Cedric earlier was enough to settle Elyria’s nerves. She was this close to losing her grasp on that final shred of diplomatic composure she still clung to.
“I need a break,” she declared over lunch. Bright noon sunlight filtered into the small dining room through open balcony doors.
Kit rested her fork on the edge of her plate, lifting her blue and green eyes to meet Elyria’s glare from across the table. “We all need a break.”
Elyria exhaled slowly. “Yes, well, what I meant was, I’m taking one. I’ve already informed, well, someone, that I’m not dealing with any more victorly shit today.” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing on Nox, sitting at Kit’s side. “And no magic practice either.”
“If you don’t practice, you won’t ever—”
Elyria cut them off with a wave of her hand. “If I don’t let off some steam, far worse things will happen.” She stood, tossing her napkin down onto her plate, bacon grease seeping into the linen. “I’ve been on my ‘best behavior’ for entirely too long. I hardly feel like myself anymore.”
“At least you look like yourself again,” said Kit. “Am I correct in assuming another thing you needed a break from was Kymber’s dressing suggestions?”
Elyria smoothed the front of her blouse, retucking an errant flap into the waistband of her leather pants.
For the first time in over a week, she had decided to forgo the palace’s pretty gowns for her own clothing, and now she could hardly remember why she’d agreed to play the part of the darling Arcanian victor so fully.
It emboldened her, being back in her own clothes.
Reminded her of her own mission, of why she was actually here.
“I’m going out tonight,” she said, sidestepping Kit’s remark with a pointed look. “Any of you are welcome to join me.”
From farther down the table, Thraigg barked a laugh, banging a fist next to his plate. “Well, ye know I’m in.”
“What have you been doing all week anyway?” asked Elyria. “I feel as though I’ve barely seen you.”
“Aww, have ye missed me, lass?”
She smirked at the dwarf. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Oh, ye know me. Been off being diplomatic.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows.
“Please do not feel the need to elaborate,” muttered Nox.
Thraigg blew them a kiss before turning his attention back to Elyria. “At any rate, Ollie already had me convinced when he was bragging about having sleuthed out the best cider in the city, as ye demanded.”
“I hardly demanded it,” Elyria grumbled.
The beads in Thraigg’s beard jingled as he tilted his head.
“Weren’t it ye I heard griping to Young Shep just yesterday?
” He pitched his voice up several octaves, accent all but disappearing.
“ ‘What I wouldn’t give for a fucking cider, I swear. All they serve in this stars-forsaken castle is fizzy wine and tea.’ ”
“That is a shockingly good impression of our fair Revenant,” said Nox, fangs flashing.
Kit snorted into her water goblet.
“It most certainly was not.” Elyria restrained herself from allowing the magic pulsing under her skin to creep across the table and smack them both upside the head.
“Whoever else would like to let off some steam, meet Ollie and me”—her eyes narrowed on the dwarf—“and Thraigg at the front gate at sundown.”
“Would that I could, Ellie,” said Kit, “but Barcroff says that the ‘rest of our party’ is finally due to arrive this evening. I’d rather be here to see exactly who it is we’ve been waiting on this whole time.”
It was Elyria’s turn to snort. “Barcroff? And you believe him?”
“Not typically,” admitted Kit, “but my mother’s latest missive confirms the timing. Even though she still insists she doesn’t know who my uncle sent.”
Nox’s red-black eyes drifted from Kit to Elyria and back again. “Something I still don’t quite understand. Do your mother and the king not talk to each other?” The question was free of judgment, as though the nocterrian was genuinely curious.
Kit sighed. “I’ve never understood the political games my family plays. Either she truly doesn’t know because my uncle won’t tell her, or she does know but won’t tell me. Either way, whoever it is has some serious explaining to do when they arrive.”
Elyria huffed in agreement. “Fair point. What about you then, Tenebris? Join us for a drink tonight?”
“Alas, something tells me the commonfolk may not take too kindly to a nocterrian dropping in for drinks. I think I’ll stay with Kit as part of the welcome wagon.”
“And what a welcome that will be. I almost hate to miss it,” Elyria said, turning toward the dining room doors with a lightness in her step that she hadn’t felt in weeks. “Almost.”
Elyria tugged the edge of her hood farther down her face, trying not to scowl.
The heavy green wool scratched at her temples, the weight of it pressing her tightly braided coronet flat against the crown of her head.
Still, it provided a level of anonymity that Elyria relished as she walked through Kingshelm, pincered in by Ollie on one side and Thraigg on the other.
The streets bustled despite the autumn chill that had descended, as though it was only with the setting sun that the city truly came alive.
Gone was the oppressive formality of the palace, the sidelong glances from courtiers.
Aside from the occasional errant gaze that lingered on Thraigg’s silhouette—a solid foot and a half shorter than the two fae but a good deal broader—the trio seemed to pass by the citizens of Kingshelm utterly unnoticed, and, for that, Elyria was grateful.
So, for the first time since arriving in the human city, Elyria let herself really take it in.
The sprawl of the capital was a strange blend of bleakness and beauty.
It wasn’t beautiful in the same way as Aerithia or Coralith, of course.
It was rougher, starker—the buildings tightly packed, the surfaces soot-smudged, the cobblestones worn.
In the distance, the elegant towers and gilded surfaces of the palace still shone, but this place, where the commonfolk lived, held a different kind of allure.
There was color—ivy weaving up walls, brightly painted shutters.
Children sat on stoops, laughing. Shopkeepers yelled, their final call for customers as they readied to close up their stalls for the night.
Soft music sang through the air, and Elyria turned her head to see a musician playing their fiddle at the end of the street.
She dropped a few coppers in the velvet-lined case at their feet as she passed.
She would never admit it, especially not to a certain knightly victor, but perhaps she had judged this place too quickly.
Too harshly. It wasn’t all misery. There was joy here.
There was life. And as Elyria watched a child dart through a puddle with an unencumbered shriek of joy, something strange settled in her chest.
“It’s so easy to forget,” she said under her breath.
Ollie looked at her, brow creased. “Forget what?”
“That they’re just . . . people. That not every human is a cultist or a zealot or a bigot. They’re just people trying to live their lives.”
He nodded. “Most of them don’t even hate us, not really.”
She arched a brow. “Not sure I’d go that far.”
“I’m being serious. They might not know exactly what to think, but . . . they’ve been told stories and fed fear. That’s not the same as hatred.”
“Still don’t mean they’ll offer ye a seat at their table, though,” Thraigg chimed in.
Elyria shrugged. She didn’t need a seat at their table. She wanted to build an entirely new one.
“How much farther are we talking here, boyo?” Thraigg grumbled, breaking Elyria from her reverie.
“What’s your hurry?” Ollie replied.
“Not in a hurry as much as I’m tired of walkin’. Ye forget that it takes three of my strides to keep up with you, long legs.”
Elyria chuckled.
“Am I to be blamed for the layout of this city?” Ollie protested. “It’s not my fault this establishment and the castle are on opposite sides of Kingshelm.”
“And I know for a fact that we’ve passed by at least three perfectly fine taverns already, and I’d be happy at any one of ’em.”
“Well, you are more than welcome to retrace your steps then. But I promised our fair Lady Victor here the best cider in the city, and that’s exactly what I plan on delivering.”
“And thank the fucking stars for that,” said Elyria with a groan. “With the way you two bicker, by the way, it’s no wonder Jocelyn decided to remain at the palace.”
“I beg your pardon. We make for excellent company, don’t we?” Ollie asked, shooting Thraigg a wry smile from beneath his hood.
“Aye, that we do. Leagues better than that buttoned-up attendant of Ric’s, at the very least.”
Elyria’s head snapped to the dwarf, her pace slowing. “Cedric’s attendant?”
“Addison,” Ollie said.
“Right,” Elyria said slowly. “What about Addison?”
“Oh, nothing.” He smirked. “Joss has simply been spending a good deal of time with her, that’s all.”
The dawning realization must have been visible on Elyria’s face, because the next thing she knew, Thraigg was clapping her on the lower back with a howling laugh. “Stranger things have happened, lass.”
“I suppose it’s heartening to know that at least some of these humans are more tolerant than others,” Elyria said.