Chapter 46
DEEP MAGIC
CEDRIC
The deeper Cedric and Elyria walked into Elderglade, the lighter the air felt.
Magic was everywhere here—ambient, alive.
It clung to the bark of ancient trees, flickered in the dust motes floating through shafts of sunlight.
It filled Cedric’s lungs and crawled over his skin. Appraising. Curious. Friendly.
As if the forest itself recognized him.
Neither of them had spoken much since crossing the threshold—neither aloud nor in their minds.
They were both too busy taking in the wondrous scene around them, thin vines of merryleaf growing out of the ground, winding around more of those silver-barked tree trunks, birds chirping above them.
Rainbow light filtered through leaves larger than Cedric’s head, translucent and veined like stained glass, painting the ground with a kaleidoscope of color.
Bowed trees lined either side of the leaf-lined path before them, branches growing toward each other, just as they had to create the archway they walked through. It gave the effect of a long corridor forging through the forest.
Cedric swung his and Elyria’s linked hands between them. “Remind you of anything?”
She looked at him. “Feels like we’re starting to make a habit of these long walks down even longer hallways, doesn’t it?”
He grinned, lifting her hand to press a quick kiss to the back of her knuckles. “You won’t catch me complaining.”
“Just as long as you promise me this one won’t end the same way the last one did.” The lilt of her voice was teasing, but the tightening of her grip had Cedric very aware of the deeper meaning underneath.
“I promise,” he said, and he meant it. Nothing would tear him from the woman at his side now—least of all his own stupidity, regardless of how noble his intentions might have been during the final trial.
Last night had changed something. Changed everything. There was a quiet in Cedric that wasn’t there before. His soul felt brighter, clearer, freer than it had in his more than twenty-eight years of life—the clean air after a storm.
He glanced at Elyria from the corner of his eye, his mouth twitching with amusement as she wove a casual tendril of wild magic through a patch of merryleaf, enticing a vine forward so she could pluck a few white blossoms from it.
She dropped Cedric’s hand to weave the blooms into her braid, drawing it over one shoulder before entwining their fingers once more.
“What do you think we’re in for?” she asked him as the arched trees started to thin, the branches overhead opening, widening, as though making room for whatever lay ahead.
“Hells if I know,” he replied. “I just want to find the others and make sure they’re all right. If we come across anyone else in here that might be able to provide us some answers, well, that will be a bonus.”
“I’m just glad this place changed its mind about me,” she said with a laugh, though her glib attitude couldn’t hide the sliver of fear that twanged down the bond into Cedric’s chest.
Cedric didn’t need to ask why the archway had suddenly accepted Elyria.
Why they were finally allowed to cross through the gate.
He could feel that single wisp of her shadow curling around his ribs, and he knew, he just knew, that a spark of his own magic sat in her as well.
Just as he knew that, for whatever reason, he was welcome here.
The path before them widened before pouring out into a wide green glade—an open valley encircled by more towering silveroak trees.
And Cedric sucked in a breath, because that wasn’t all there was here.
Dozens of huts, houses, and structures were dotted throughout the valley.
Some looked rather traditionally built, while others had been seamlessly woven into the bordering forest, as if they’d grown out of the very roots and trunks and soil.
Branches grew sideways and downward, forming thatched roofs and twig-woven walls. Vines twisted into ladders, thick cables that held benches and hammocks and swings, hovering in midair. Thirty or so feet away, a small brook babbled.
None of that was what had Cedric’s breath catching in his throat.
No, it was the people here. The children.
Kids splashed at the edge of the stream. Adults hung laundry to dry in the breeze. Youths played flipball on the other side of the clearing.
It was so . . . joyful. So lovely. And so—
“Stars above,” Elyria breathed, coming to the realization at the same time as Cedric. “Just look at them.”
Cedric looked. Looked at the pair of sylvan women chatting over a barrel of sudsy water, cleaning rags on a washboard.
Looked at the delicate pointed ears of two of the teenaged-looking boys chasing after a runaway ball.
The shock of cerulean hair on another. And then his attention went to a little girl who played in the dirt nearby, his gaze darting from the blonde pigtails tied atop her head to her rounded ears .
. . to the shimmering rose-colored wings fluttering on her back.
“Mixedborn,” Cedric said in his mind, and Elyria squeezed his hand.
“Sanctuary,” she said back, and when Cedric looked at her, her emerald eyes were glassy.
“Oi! It’s about damn time!” Thraigg’s voice was a booming guffaw that broke through Cedric’s reverie.
The dwarf was slung over a low table outside a small wooden building just to the right of where they’d entered the glade.
He had a wooden mug in one hand and was waving animatedly with the other, beckoning them over.
“How is—Where are—What is—” Cedric couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t seem to form a rational sentence on his tongue.
He didn’t even realize when his body made contact with the bench next to Thraigg, taking a seat next to the dwarf.
He was too busy watching that little girl with wings slap a fistful of mud from one hand to the other, flattening it before calling out in a high-pitched voice, “Breakfast is ready!”
“It’s quite amazing to behold, isn’t it?” Ollie’s voice was uncharacteristically soft as he emerged from the shack behind them, a plate of biscuits balanced on one hand.
“This is Elderglade?” Elyria said, wonder in her voice.
“Aye,” said Thraigg. “Not sure I would’ve believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself either, lass.”
“But how—” Elyria shook her head, as if deciding that wasn’t the right question to ask. “You two are all right? Where’s Shep? Jocelyn?”
Ollie grinned. “More than all right. It’s you two we were worried about.” His eyes flicked to the side of Elyria’s neck, and he smirked. “Though perhaps we needn’t have been.”
Elyria scowled at her friend, snatching a biscuit and slamming onto the bench across from Cedric. He suppressed a smile as her boot nudged at his own.
“Shep was invited to meet with the sylvan elders,” Ollie explained, setting the plate on the table. “Joss went with him.”
“They’re meeting with them right now?” Elyria straightened, her words garbled through a massive bite of biscuit. “We should—”
“The elders do not take kindly to interruption,” said a soft voice. High, bright. “They know you are here. They will call for you.”
Cedric froze.
He knew that voice.
Would’ve known who was standing behind him even if Elyria hadn’t just spat out her biscuit, leaping to her feet. The table shifted, Ollie’s plate clattering on the ground, Thraigg’s mug overturning with a splash.
Despite the commotion, Cedric turned slowly, disbelief making his movements sluggish.
Her forest green hair was shorter than he remembered, as though she’d recently cut it.
The delicate vine-like tattoos that wove over her arms, under the sleeves of her birch-colored tunic, more detailed than he’d recalled.
And her belt was free of the numerous vials and pouches and potions she’d had clipped there throughout the Crucible.
But it was her.
“You.” Elyria’s voice was a dark melody carving through the air toward Zephyr, who stood in front of the thick trunk of a nearby silveroak.
“Whoa there, Rev.” Thraigg lifted his hands, palms out, as if trying to calm a wild animal.
Perhaps he was. Because before Cedric even had time to react properly, Elyria had already lunged forward, her wings flaring as she slammed the sylvan into the nearest tree.
Green hands scrambled at Elyria’s forearm as she pinned Zephyr by the throat.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
There was a flash of viridescent light, and Zephyr shrunk out of Elyria’s hold, small wings bursting from beneath Elyria as a green magpie soared into the air.
Elyria cursed as the bird flew into the tree above her, settling on a large branch, before transforming back into Zephyr with another burst of light. The sylvan gasped for breath, clutching the branch with both hands, two lines forming in the center of her brow as she looked upon the group.
“Get back down here, you traitorous bit—”
“Elle.” Ollie placed a brave hand on Elyria’s shoulder.
Elyria whirled. “What is this, Ollie? Don’t you know who she is?”
Ollie gave a solemn nod, then looked to Thraigg with a pleading expression.
The dwarf simply shrugged. “I weren’t too happy when we first realized she was here either. But after she—”
“But?” The word might as well have been forged from razors, given how sharp it sounded leaving Elyria’s mouth. “There is no excuse she could give that explains away what she did. She betrayed us all. She stole the crown. She almost let Kit die!”
“I know I did,” Zephyr called down, her voice sounding small.
“All of that is true. And I know it won’t make a difference if I tell you I’m sorry—I know you wouldn’t believe me, even if I were capable of expressing how deeply sorry I am.
Just like I know I don’t deserve to be here now.
I was never meant to be. But I swear to you, I was never your enemy. ”
“You just worked for our enemy. For the enemy.” Cedric’s voice was lethally calm.
Zephyr flinched. “He didn’t give me a choice.”