Chapter 44 Afterglow #2
The inner corners of Elyria’s eyes pricked, the knot in her chest already unfurling. “Cedric . . .” she whispered.
His voice was a gentle caress. “And I’d never presume to tell you how to feel.”
A tear slipped from her eye, rolling down her cheek, and just like after she’d created Sid from the shadows, he was there to catch it with the back of his knuckle.
She swallowed, then huffed a breathy laugh. “Can you tell me how to feel less? It’s been a bit much lately.”
Cedric let out a low chuckle. “I know the feeling.”
She blinked back the rest of the tears threatening to escape, lifting a hand to the mark on his shoulder. Like a call and response, he raised his own hand to the matching bite on her neck.
“This is what I mean, though,” she said. “You’ve always felt it too, haven’t you? The pull. The tug. The need.”
Cedric took a moment to nod.
“Are you ready to talk about why that is?” she asked softly.
Again, he hesitated before nodding. “Humans don’t feel the need to claim, do they? The instinct, the tug.”
Elyria shook her head. “I don’t think they do.”
“And they definitely don’t do this.” He pulled his hand from where it still rested on the side of Elyria’s neck, golden fire dancing in his palm with the snap of his fingers. “I don’t even need to use my token anymore,” he said wistfully.
Elyria waited.
The flame snuffed out. “I’m not human, am I?”
“No,” she said quickly, “I think you are. But only in part.”
“I’m mixedborn.” The words came down the bond, as though he was afraid of saying them aloud.
“Yes, I think so.”
Cedric blew out a breath, a wave of conflicting emotions surging down the thread between them. Resignation and relief and fear and . . . hope?
“When did you know?” he asked.
“I started having my suspicions when you emerged unscathed from a lake of fire. And then you erupted in flames in the middle of the Celestial Sanctum, and I thought I might be onto something. But really, it was this that confirmed it.” She pressed her palm over his heart.
“I never knew exactly what it was. Only that it kept leading me to you.” He dragged his hand from her mark down the curve of her shoulder, then her arm, finally coming to a stop when he reached her hand. Their fingers linked together. “I just felt you.”
Elyria leaned forward and kissed him, her lips molding around his.
Twisting in his lap until they were fully face-to-face, chest-to-chest, she draped her legs to either side of him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck as his lips parted, opening himself to the exploration of her tongue, her deepening kiss.
She felt him grow hard against her inner thigh, and with barely more than a shift in her position, she was seated upon him, his fingers digging into her back as she lowered herself down his length.
Cedric groaned her name in her ear, in her mind, as they rocked together, that pulsing heat in her core building slowly this time.
Unhurried, unbothered. Because even though they knew the world was waiting, even though they still had a mystery to unravel, a barrier to get through, and a dark sorcerer to hunt, in that moment the only thing that mattered was that they had each other.
And when they came this time—first her, him following shortly after—that speck of light now kindling in Elyria’s own chest blazed as hot as starfyre, a burning confirmation that there really was no going back.
“Is this what it’s like to be a sage, do you think?” Cedric asked. “A mindwielder?”
Elyria considered this, brushing her fingers through his messy waves as they stood in front of the vine-woven archway once more. The sun was high in the sky, the damp ground the only remaining sign of yesterday’s storms.
“No, I don’t think so.” She straightened the collar of his tunic before adjusting the position of her staff, hanging from her back, between her wings.
“I’m not one myself, of course, so I couldn’t say for sure, but based on being on the receiving end of Leona’s attack during the Crucible, I’d say that’s more like flinging your mental power around like a weapon.
It’s defensible. And just like armor protects against sword strikes, our minds can be shored against mindwielders.
Some people even have a natural proclivity for shielding themselves against mental intrusion.
I am, again, as Leona proved”—Elyria’s lip curled—“not necessarily the best at it.”
“But this,” she continued, sending the words directly into Cedric’s mind, “is more like a conversation. You and I just happen to be the only two who can hear it.”
“But can you hear everything going on in here? All the time?” Cedric looked moderately panicked.
“Put your depraved mind at ease, Sir Pervert. I can only hear what you want me to hear.” She paused. “Mostly. Sort of.”
Cedric gave her a pointed look. “Very reassuring.”
She smirked at him. “So, what now then? As much fun as I’ve had waiting out here with you,” she said with a wink, “I don’t think we can just hang about forever in the hopes that Ollie, Joss, Shep, and Thraigg will wander right back out when they’re done.
” She cast her gaze in a wide arc around them, a flicker of worry tightening her brow.
“What is it?”
“Do you think Sid’s all right? This is the longest we’ve gone without seeing her, and—”
“I’m sure she is just fine. You would feel it if she wasn’t, wouldn’t you?” He paused, frowning, his hand rubbing at his chest, and it was Elyria’s turn to ask what was wrong.
“Nothing is wrong, so to speak,” he said. “I just . . . I suddenly feel very much as though I, too, would sense if something had happened to her. It’s almost like I can feel the tiniest wisp of shadow winding around my ribs. Is that normal too, do you think?”
“Hells if I know.” Elyria shook her head, an exasperated breath firing from her lungs. “Fucking soul-bonds,” she muttered. “Remind me whenever we get back to literally any place with a decent library to do some serious digging. I really do not enjoy being in the dark here.”
Cedric grinned. “Apt choice of words there, Trouble.”
“Oh, you be quiet. It’s not as though—”
She hadn’t meant to get close to the archway, given its rather nasty reception of her before. But Elyria gesticulated just a little too broadly, her arms swinging just a hair too wide . . . and the vines reacted.
She stiffened, half-expecting another surge of white light, another magical strike against her.
Nothing came.
The vines simply started unweaving themselves, slithering back to the trees that comprised the gate as easily as if Elyria was using her wild magic to send them away.
She wasn’t.
Cedric stilled beside her, one hand resting on Ashrender’s hilt, as they watched the gate open, the silver trunks on either side shimmering slightly.
Beckoning.
Inviting.
“What the fuck,” she said under her breath, searching for Cedric’s hand, her rapid heartbeat slowing when she found it.
Their fingers interlocked as they stared at the open archway, the muffled hums of conversation drifting through from somewhere very far away.
Elyria turned her head, looking up at the knight beside her.
He was looking right back.
He dipped his chin.
She squared her shoulders.
And together, they stepped through the gate.