Chapter 29 Parting Blows
PARTING BLOWS
ELYRIA
Pale dawn light was just beginning to trickle through the palace windows as Elyria stepped out of the shadows and back into her bedroom. Dropping her boots on the plush carpet, Elyria padded over to her bed and perched on the edge of her mattress before loosing a heavy breath.
Sid, in a rare show of cooperation, had indeed stayed put.
The shadowcat was still dozing on her bed, a ball of black smoke curled up next to her pillow.
Elyria reached out to pet her, fingers twining with the shadows pooling around the cat, trying not to think too hard about why her fingers still trembled.
She couldn’t keep thinking about last night. Couldn’t get distracted by the memory of the way Cedric’s arms had felt around her. By the warmth of his body caging hers, and how perfectly she’d fit against him. How he’d stroked her hair. The rise and fall of his chest under her cheek.
She couldn’t think about how safe he’d felt. So much so that the last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep was the shimmer of release as her wings sprang free—unbound, unmasked.
No, Elyria couldn’t afford to think about any of that. She had a mission here. By the fucking stars, she was a fully grown fae with an important purpose—one she was finally going to be able to act on. She wasn’t some lovesick adolescent who couldn’t keep her eye on the larger issues at play.
And yet . . .
“You aren’t even going to say goodbye?”
Glorious idiot.
Didn’t he know that she couldn’t say goodbye? That if she had tried to, she might never have been able to leave?
A knock at the door broke her from her thoughts. Sid mewled grouchily from the bed as Elyria called out, “Come in.”
Ollie’s turquoise hair poked in from the hall. “Ah, so you are here. Kymber was just trying to convince us that you weren’t.” He threw open the door, revealing Jocelyn behind him, the two of them already clad in their traveling gear—leather bracers, thick cloaks, sturdy boots.
“Of course I’m here. Where else would I have been?” Elyria said, perhaps a little too quickly if the way Ollie’s eyes immediately crinkled with amusement was any measure to go by.
“Yes, where indeed?” Jocelyn’s mouth quivered at the edges, and Elyria buried the flush that threatened to rush into her cheeks as she remembered that the guard had been spending a lot of time with Cedric’s attendant. What did Addison know?
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Elyria snapped.
Jocelyn and Ollie exchanged a look, before he gestured loosely at the back of his head. “You might want to, ah—”
Elyria’s hand shot to her hair, and she grimaced at the tangled mess she found there.
“Lots of tossing and turning last night, was there?” Ollie added, and it took Elyria a significant amount of restraint not to hurl her friend right out of the room.
She shot him a glare instead, smoothing her hair before hastily weaving it into a messy braid. “I’m fine. Just eager to get underway. Feels like I’ve waited a lifetime for this.”
“You’ll watch yourself out there, Ellie?” Kit stepped back from embracing Elyria, her mismatched eyes glinting with something that fell between approval and concern.
The courtyard buzzed with activity. Attendants tied together final bags of provisions as stablehands tended to the pack horses and riders’ mounts alike.
The two men making up their escort were already perched atop their steeds, waiting by the gate a few yards away.
Elyria recognized them as the guards who’d accompanied Cedric to Luminaria, recalling the two decidedly different attitudes they’d seemed to have at the Crucible’s end.
“Of course, Kitty Kat.” Elyria slung her staff over her shoulder and offered her friend what she hoped was a reassuring nod. “You know me.”
Kit arched a brow. “Yes, I do. That’s what worries me.”
“Aye, I’ll be there to watch her back,” called Thraigg from atop his horse.
Elyria wanted to roll her eyes at the dwarf’s contribution, but instead found herself once again distracted by the rather clever contraption that was Thraigg’s saddle.
Difficult as it was, she had to give the humans credit there.
Not only did it have custom-length stirrups and extra support added to the back to accommodate for the difference in weight distribution, but they’d also crafted some kind of retractable ladder to allow the dwarf to mount and dismount with ease.
More distracting still had been the stablehand’s answer when Elyria asked where he had procured the saddle. A special commission from the Lord Victor, he’d said, something that had made Elyria’s heart clench.
“You, I worry about even more,” Kit said with a huff, and Thraigg barked a raucous laugh in response that set off the rest of those gathered in the courtyard.
Ollie was all smiles as he tightened the strap on one of his vambraces, then strolled over to his waiting horse.
Jocelyn gave a good-natured roll of her eyes.
Even Tenebris Nox, leaning against the courtyard wall nearby, cracked a grin.
“Remind me of her name?” Elyria asked the stablehand as he offered her the reins of a beautiful champagne-coated mare.
“Butterscotch, my lady.”
The horse snorted before releasing a short whinny, shaking its head.
Elyria chuckled. “I’m not sure she likes that all too much.”
“By all means, then,” came a deep voice, “call her whatever you please.”
The stablehand bowed as he shimmied to the side, making room for Lord Paramount Leviathan Church’s approach. Behind him, Tenny wiggled her fingers at Elyria in greeting, a broad smile on her face, then turned to speak with Kit.
Lord Church ran his palm down the mare’s back, and the horse’s tail flicked. “What would you name her instead?”
Elyria swallowed the discomfort she felt, trying to quash the way her shadows suddenly stirred. She placed her hands on either side of the horse’s face, looking the animal over intently before bringing their foreheads together.
“Fjaethe,” she said quietly. The horse let out a low whinny. Stamped its hoof in seeming approval.
Lord Church took a step closer. “What was that you said?”
“Fjaethe,” Elyria repeated, louder. “It’s an Arcanian word. It means—”
“Hope Keeper.”
The back of her neck prickled. “You know the old language?”
The lord didn’t answer her, only went on to say, “Interesting choice. A fine name for a fine creature.”
There was nothing malicious about the words, but something about his tone had Elyria suppressing a shudder.
“Are you here to see them off, my lord?” Kit asked, sidling next to Elyria and drawing the lord paramount’s piercing amber gaze.
Elyria flashed her friend a grateful look as the stablehand led Fjaethe over to stand with the other horses by the gate.
“Indeed,” said Lord Church. “We are just waiting on—ah, here they are now.”
Elyria felt Cedric’s approach before she even heard the clip-clopping of hooves making their way up the narrow path that led to the stables.
Before she saw him, regally perched atop a solid black gelding, sporting pieces of polished armor over his traveling gear, Ashrender’s winged hilt peeking up from where the sword was strapped to his back.
Gold-brown eyes met emerald green immediately, something softening in his expression as Cedric slowed his horse. Not without effort, she forced her gaze away, taking in Tristan, riding at his side, and the ginger-haired, freckled young man trailing behind the two of them.
“Who is—” She cut herself off, blinking several times. She was sure she’d never seen him before, yet as the trio came closer, she couldn’t help but feel there was something so familiar about him.
“Nice glamour, Shep,” said Kit with a low whistle. “Hardly recognized you.”
Young Shep grinned. “Such is the point. At least until we arrive in Elderglade.”
When she squinted, Elyria could see it—the same sharp angle to his eyes.
The same high cheekbones. Still, it took another few moments for Elyria to reconcile the man before her with the sylvan guard, and by the time she might’ve said something, Shep was already leading his horse over to where Jocelyn and the human guards lingered by the gate.
Motion brought her attention back to where Cedric was dismounting, slipping off his horse in one fluid movement. He kept the reins clenched in his fist, his horse padding behind him as he finished his approach, bending at the waist in greeting to Lord Church, Elyria, and Kit.
“My lord,” Cedric said evenly. “My ladies.”
Lord Church gave the knight a nod of acknowledgment.
Tenny drew up beside her father, beaming at Cedric. “Feeling ready?” she asked. “Said all your goodbyes?”
Elyria didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to her before settling back on Tenny. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
“Well, at least the journey should afford you plenty of time to cement that readiness.” She sighed, toying with the chain of her locket.
“I wish I was going with you. How utterly fascinating it would be to visit the Midlands, let alone get to see a sylvan settlement. Elderglade is said to be home to the best healers on the continent.”
Lord Church exhaled through his nose, his lips turned up in a good-natured smile even as he shook his head. “One day, Portentia. Just not today.”
“I wish you could come too,” said Cedric.
“You’re only saying that because you know I’d be handy to have around.”
He chuckled. “Your prowess as a saint would be useful, granted. But far more compelling as a reason is simply the fact that you’d make for far better company.”
“I heard that,” called Tristan in a sing-song voice from where he and Ollie conversed from the backs of their separate horses.
“I meant you to,” Cedric called back, mimicking his tone. The exchange was so unexpectedly lighthearted that Elyria found herself releasing a laugh of disbelief.