Chapter 21 Easy Targets
EASY TARGETS
CEDRIC
He regretted everything.
Head throbbing like a war drum, each pulse behind Cedric’s eyes was a rude reminder of the total, unabashed mess that was last night.
The entire evening was blurry, coming back to him in pieces.
He recalled the sounds of smashing glass, the stiff set of his own shoulders.
The scent of bitter almond enveloping him from head to toe.
He swallowed, and his mouth felt like it was filled with sawdust. Finally daring to peek out from under the covers, he squinted against the bright light trickling in through his curtains.
“Oh good,” came a voice far too chipper for Cedric’s condition, “you’re alive.”
Cedric groaned, hurling a pillow in Tristan’s general direction.
“You missed,” said the knight, approaching Cedric with amusement plastered across his face.
“I hate you,” Cedric rasped.
“See, you say that now, but last night as I was hauling your drunken ass out of The Cracked Keg, you were full of nothing but undying professions of your love for me.” Tristan plucked an apple from a bowl on a nearby table.
“Said I was the best friend you’d ever had.
That if you lived a thousand years, you’d never be able to properly express how much I meant to you. ”
Cedric propped himself up on his elbows, eyeing his friend with a dubious expression. “Lies do not become you, Sir Hale.”
Tristan shined the apple on his shirt before taking an obnoxious bite. “You wound me, Sir Thorne,” he said, mouth full.
“Yes, you seem very hurt indeed.” Cedric scrubbed a hand down his face. “What time is it?”
Using two fingers to lift the edge of the curtain, Tristan peered out the window. “Oh, perhaps half-past ten or so?”
Cedric bolted upright, immediately regretting the motion as the throbbing in his head intensified. “What? Why did Addison let me sleep so late? I need to—”
“Relax yourself, Lord Victor. I told Addison you needed your beauty sleep now more than ever.” He eyed Cedric speculatively. “I, for one, am relieved to know you finally got a little shut eye. I know you’ve barely been sleeping since you returned.”
Cedric knew his friend didn’t mean since returning from Paideus.
“Did I— Was there—” Cedric blinked, swallowed. “Help a man out, would you?”
“What, having trouble recalling what happened last night?” Tristan looked delighted. “I admit, I find that a bit difficult to believe. From where I was standing, the Revenant made quite the impression on you.”
“From where you were—oh, Noctis take me.”
“Yes. Stars above, the two of you, er, clashed so intensely that I thought the entire booth might ignite. I suppose I should be proud of how much better your control is over that power of yours that it didn’t.”
Cedric dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck.”
“No, no, don’t worry. You didn’t get that far.”
Another pillow flew at Tristan’s face. He dodged it with a laugh.
Cedric was silent as he attempted to recall the events of the evening more fully, to stitch together the patchwork of his drink-sodden memories.
For a few moments, all he could recall was the feel of Elyria’s body pressed against his own, the softness of her mouth, the call of her magic whispering to his own.
And then the rest came rushing back. The accidental tug of a hood. The chaos that followed. The shouting, the flying mugs, the way Elyria’s wings had exploded into view before she soared out of sight.
He groaned again. “How much shit am I in, do you think?”
Tristan snorted. “Oh, who’s to say? According to Gregor and Addison, the rumors are already spreading like wildfire, but nobody knows what to believe.
Some say the Revenant tried to burn down The Keg.
Say that she hexed you, worked her ‘fairy witch wiles’ on our dear Lord Victor.
” He grinned for a moment, before his upper lip twisted with disapproval, as though suddenly realizing the meaning beneath the words.
“Personally, I like the story circulating that says she transformed into a giant bat and flew out the window with two unconscious men clutched in her talons.”
That drew a light laugh from Cedric, though even that had pain lancing through his head. He muttered a curse under his breath. “Do you . . . do you think she’s all right? With the rumors?”
The smug look on Tristan’s face as he took another bite of his apple made Cedric wish he could suck the question right back into his mouth.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about the Revenant,” said Tristan, picking at his teeth. “Or about any of the Arcanians right now, really. I imagine their hands are quite full with the new arrivals.”
Understanding took an extra moment to dawn. “The final members of the delegation are here?”
Tristan nodded. “Got in late last night, right about the time I was pouring you into bed.”
Anxiety swelled in Cedric’s chest. He was already set to leave for Elderglade soon, but now that the Arcanian delegation was finally complete, would Elyria be leaving on her own mission even sooner? “I need to get up. Lord Church will need—”
“Tsk. I’m sure the lord paramount can manage without you for a few more hours. He, too, has a rather full plate, what with the dissent already brewing within the ranks of our Arcanian friends.”
Cedric’s brow furrowed. “I am far too hungover for this kind of cryptic nonsense, Tris. Speak plainly or do not speak at all.”
Tristan laughed. “I’m talking about how your lady love took one look at the newest members of the delegation and promptly punched one of them square in the face.”
Cedric’s mouth popped open.
“Heard she broke his nose, actually. Put on a whole shadowy display that several of the housekeepers are still whining about.” Tristan nodded approvingly. “Our lady of darkness indeed.”
“Why would she do that?”
Tristan shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. But neither she nor the broken-nosed fae she unleashed herself on have been seen thus far this morning, so if you catch up with her”—he raised his brow suggestively—“do let me know what she says. I’m dying for a little gossip.”
Cedric lingered in the quiet solitude of his chamber after Tristan left, taking the time to bathe and eat, pointedly avoiding Addison’s judgmental glare when she checked on him—like she was one to talk—until the ache behind his eyes subsided.
The pressure he felt in his chest only served to grow, however, the longer he waited.
Time was moving too quickly. There was so little of it left before he would be departing.
And there was still so much he needed to learn—about his mission and the task ahead, about his power and what might happen next—before he did.
So, Cedric went looking for answers.
Unfortunately, he only made it halfway down the eastern corridor when he heard his name, spoken in a voice that was smooth and low and unmistakable.
“Cedric.”
Lord Church approached from the other end of the hall, framed by the soft light from a nearby arched window. His black-and-silver robes were immaculate, one hand grasping the head of his silver-capped cane. “Walk with me,” he said.
It wasn’t a request.
They moved in silence for a time, their boots echoing softly against the marble floors. Cedric didn’t speak—not yet. He was too aware of the coiling pressure in his gut, the sense that whatever this conversation was going to be, it wouldn’t end with him feeling any lighter.
“Word has reached my ears regarding an . . . occurrence last night,” Lord Church finally said. “The Victor of Havensreach involved in a tavern brawl? Really?”
Cedric forced a short breath. “Things got a little out of hand, but all was well in the end. The tavern is no worse for wear and I had the opportunity to meet with more of our esteemed citizens, my lord.”
“So I’m told.” The lord’s gaze flicked sideways. “But are we really going to pretend like the cause of the brawl was anyone other than the Revenant?”
Cedric stiffened. “It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t start anything.”
“You’ll forgive my skepticism. Trouble does seem to follow where she goes, does it not?”
Cedric bit his tongue.
Lord Church slowed to a stop. “You have to understand, my son. Perception matters. Especially now, when peace is a fragile thing. The council is already on edge with these latest . . . disturbances.” His tone dipped with meaning.
“What disturbances?” Cedric asked.
“Surely, you’ve heard the rumors. Villages along the Chasm have been going silent.
Caravans delivering mana from the Midlands disappearing.
Rumblings of the Cult of Malakar’s presence are only growing stronger.
” The lord’s mouth tightened. “I fear we are on the precipice of something, Cedric. The second half of the Crown must be found.”
Cedric gave a slow nod. “Of course, my lord. That’s why you’re sending me to Elderglade.”
“Yes.” Lord Church paused. “Do you know much about the sylvan settlement there?”
“Only what I have read in my studies, though I know Magister Yvan sent a good deal of additional materials along with the castle records. I will endeavor to look through them all before we leave.”
“Hopefully the answers we seek will be there, one way or another.”
Cedric wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but before he had a chance to ask for clarification, the lord continued.
“Elderglade is an . . . interesting place.” His cane tapped along the floor as he resumed walking. “Sylvans are such funny little creatures.”
Cedric’s brows shot up in surprise. He had not realized Lord Church had ever been to Elderglade. He wanted to ask him about that, but instead, different words tripped out of his mouth. “People, my lord.”
Lord Church’s expression was bemused as he tilted his head at Cedric. “Pardon?”
Cedric flushed, the back of his neck prickling. “The sylvans. They are people, not creatures.” He swallowed under the lord’s penetrating gaze, felt his walls come up as he steeled himself against the instinct to take it back, to bury his insolence, to smother the words under an apology.
“Of course,” said Lord Church slowly. “I misspoke.”
They walked the rest of the way to the office in silence. When Lord Church stopped before the door, turning to Cedric once more before heading inside, there was a strange smile on his face. It looked warm, soft, appreciative.
It felt . . . false.
Cedric tried to mask his discomfort with a respectful bow. “Is there anything I can do for you, my lord? I was hoping to get some more training time in before preparations for the trip begin in earnest.”
“General preparations are nearly complete,” Lord Church said, that off-kilter smile still on his face. “You may take all the time you need to train, to ready yourself for what’s to come. To say goodbye?”
Cedric wasn’t sure he really meant it as a question, but that’s how it felt. “I will certainly bid farewell to Tenny before I depart,” he said.
Lord Church pursed his lips. “You are not a man who lends himself to pretense, Cedric. So please, do not pretend with me.”
“My lord?”
“I understand very well that you have no intention of marrying my daughter right now. And I also understand—I think we both know, in fact—that Portentia cares for you a great deal. It would certainly be a comfort to me to see the two of you in alignment. Especially given these uncertain times.”
“My lord, I—”
“I would caution you that whatever it is you think you want instead, whatever flights of fancy might be tempting you elsewhere, you consider your duty to the crown. You remember your obligation to your people. Accords or no, we would all do well to remember that they are not the same as us.”
The words settled on Cedric’s shoulders like a boulder.
Lord Church sighed. “The Revenant is a very beautiful creature. I can almost understand it.” Something like wistfulness danced between the words, setting Cedric on edge. “In a different life, I might have”—he cut himself off with the cluck of his tongue—“but alas, here we are.”
Cedric did not know what to make of the lord’s words, so busy was he trying to smother the white-hot bolt of possessive fury that suddenly flared behind his ribs.
It was so powerful that he almost stumbled on his feet.
Heat curled in his veins, and when he glanced down, he saw his fists were clenched so tightly at his sides that he suspected he would have fingernail-shaped marks in his palms when he relaxed them.
If the lord noticed the tension radiating off his ward, he did not let on.
“I do believe this journey will be good for you, son,” he said, that false smile back on his face.
“It will give you some much-needed space, I think. Clarity. And perhaps, when you return, you will do so with the understanding of where your loyalties truly lie.”