Chapter 54 Before the Dawn
BEFORE THE DAWN
ELYRIA
The door to Elyria’s borrowed bedroom shut behind her with a soft click. She sighed as she looked around the simple space—a modest bed, a side table, an oversized armchair, and one small dresser. No luxurious four-poster bed. No fireplace. No beautiful balcony with wafting curtains.
Not that she was complaining. No, this was perfectly fine. Better than fine, actually, considering this room was still intact. It hadn’t been torn apart by raging cultists, wasn’t newly decorated with a lot of not-very-nice words scrawled across the walls and floors and furnishings. In blood.
Cedric’s room had fared slightly better, but the rather pointed “fairy fucker” and “blood traitor” inked on the front of his door still made it an easy choice to seek new accommodations for the evening.
They only needed the respite for one more night, after all.
“You’re sure about this?” Elyria asked Cedric, looking to where he sat in the chair, the moon’s rays filtering in from the window overhead bathing him in ethereal light.
“Not particularly,” he admitted, unlacing his boots.
He kicked them off, one by one, then slumped back in the chair.
“But I do not think we can afford to delay. The longer we wait to go after Tenny, the more opportunity Lord Church”—he grimaced—“Varyth Malchior will have to regroup, to call in reinforcements, to lay a better trap.”
“So you agree it is definitely a trap, then?” Elyria shucked her own boots off and, with a flap of her wings, flitted across the room to him.
She perched on the chair’s armrest, legs dangling over the side.
Stars above, she was sore. A full day of debriefing and regrouping with Cedric, Kit, Nox, Tristan, and the remaining members of the king’s council who had yet to flee the capital, not to mention the hours spent overseeing the cleanup of the palace and trying to wrangle some semblance of order in the wake of last night’s mutinous display, had left Elyria thoroughly exhausted.
With a sigh, Cedric looped one arm around Elyria’s middle and pulled her backward. She let out a light squeal as she slid onto his lap and he wrapped his other arm around her.
“It would be stupid not to assume so.” And then as if already anticipating the question sitting on the tip of her tongue, he added, “But I don’t care if it is a trap. Not if it means getting Tenny back before it’s too late.”
Elyria laid her head on his chest. “You really think he’d hurt his own daughter?”
“Had you asked me yesterday, I would have sworn up and down a dozen times over that there was no way in any quarter of hell he ever would. But now?” Cedric’s jaw flexed.
“It’s as though I can feel his desperation from here.
With his coup failed and his plans foiled .
. . his identity revealed? Who knows what he will do next. We already know what he is capable of.”
“Is it bad that I’m wishing Sephone hadn’t already left?
” Elyria said. “I understand her desire to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible, believe me. I even understand the excuses she gave. I wouldn’t trust sending a message back to Aerithia with news of what happened here either.
” She inhaled sharply. “And as much as I hate the idea of her skipping home to inform my father”—her lip curled—“of all that has occurred, King Lachlandris does need to know about Malchior.”
“It was good of her to have volunteered to take Dentarius’ body back to Nyrundelle too,” Cedric said, voice low.
Elyria swallowed. “Yes, it was. It still might’ve been nice to have her with us tomorrow. She certainly proved last night that she is a force to be reckoned with.”
“It might’ve been nice to have a lot of things tomorrow.” He tightened his hold around her. “Not the least of which would be having more than just you, me, Kit, and Nox taking this on.”
Elyria nodded against his chest. “I agree. But Sephone is gone. Tristan is injured. Thraigg, Jocelyn, Ollie, and Shep could still be days away. And since the king is—”
“—still holed up in his quarters, yes. Barcroff has been ferrying alleged messages from him throughout the palace, but His Majesty hasn’t left his rooms since last night.”
Elyria scoffed. “I was going to say, ‘Since the king is useless,’ but fine, we can go with yours.” Under differing circumstances, Elyria might have felt bad for the man.
He had nearly died, after all. His reality had shifted nearly as badly as Cedric’s had with the revelation of Lord Church’s true identity.
But unlike Cedric, King Callum had let the events of last night cripple him. While the palace was simply trying to recover from the carnage, he was hiding, leaving the surviving council members, the knights of Kingshelm, the palace servants to figure things out on their own—leaderless.
Cedric made a face, clearly uncomfortable with the disrespect he was skirting around.
He still considered King Callum his sovereign, his liege.
The fact that her knight was, in reality, a royal himself was not lost on Elyria.
In fact, as she looked up at him, a seed of pride sprouted behind her ribs.
He’d been such a force of calm purpose today.
Instructing and guiding and helping everyone left in the palace with steadfast grace.
It was beautiful to witness. Regal.
Cedric cleared his throat. “Even if the king were well, even if our forces weren’t in utter disarray, and even if we felt we could trust those who remain, that there aren’t still cultists secretly biding their time within our ranks . . .”
“I know. Preparing them to march on Seastone would take just as long as waiting for the rest of our friends to return. Longer.”
“So, I think we are making the right call then. The four of us go, in stealth, and retrieve Tenny from Seastone.” Cedric nodded several times, as though he was trying to convince himself.
“There’s always Sid,” Elyria said, lightening her voice in the hopes it might ease the knight’s obvious dread.
He gave a low huff of amusement. “Sid may be made of shadow, but I would not consider her particularly stealthy. Especially not now.”
“My little volacarnii,” Elyria said, affecting a tone of mock pride. Then, more seriously, she added, “I did try telling her to stay here. Or at least to disappear back into whatever shadowy fold she lives in when not out here with us.”
“Is that where she is now?” he asked.
“As if I know. She doesn’t exactly ask me for permission. And regarding maintaining our stealthy approach, I’m afraid she’s not exactly known for her obedience either.”
Cedric’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “As I’ve said before, no idea where she gets that from.”
Elyria returned her head to his chest. “So. Seastone then. And we are absolutely sure that is where they went?”
He tensed, his heartbeat picking up under her ear. “Addison said he was quite forthcoming about it when he took Tenny.”
“He wants you to follow.”
“He knows I will come.”
Silence fell over the two of them, tense at first, then relaxing into something comfortable.
Elyria nestled deeper into Cedric’s lap. “I feel like I could sleep for a year,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“Just a year?” Cedric chuckled into her hair. “I think I could sleep for a decade.”
“Being awake for two full days will do that to a person.”
“I am no stranger to sleepless nights,” he said, “but there is a marked difference between tossing and turning until dawn, versus traveling halfway across the continent in a single night, only to have to fight our way through King’s Keep.
” He paused. “Not that I think I would have been able to sleep even if we hadn’t immediately jumped into battle.
I think my heart is still racing from that flight across the Chasm. ”
“It’s called exposure therapy,” she grumbled into his tunic. “You’re welcome.”
He ignored her. “Not to mention, the last time we did sleep was on the hard forest floor. Not exactly conducive to comfort.”
“Speak for yourself. I was perfectly comfortable.”
“That is because you are a bedroll hog. And I would lay down decent gold that you’re a blanket hog as well.”
Her gaze flicked to the bed. “I suppose you’re about to find out, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am.” He peered down at her, his lip scar curving up in a sinful grin.
And then Elyria was squealing again, because Cedric was on his feet, and she was in his arms. He strode over and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced twice before pulling herself to the edge of the mattress.
“Come to bed then, Your Highness,” she said, crooking her finger at him.
Cedric rolled his eyes, but he was laughing as he untucked his tunic and moved closer to her. That laugh morphed into a light hiss when he pulled the shirt over his head, the fabric grazing his cheek.
“Tsk, you’re bleeding again.”
“Barely,” he grumbled, dropping his tunic on the floor. He raised a hand to his face and dabbed at his cheekbone, where the small cut he’d received during the battle in the throne room had torn open again.
“I don’t know why you won’t just let me heal it for you.”
“It’s dramatic,” he offered with a tipped smile. “Gives me a certain battle-worn mystique, don’t you think? Plus, I hear the ladies like scars.”
She lifted an unimpressed brow. “Oh? Do tell. What ladies are these?”
He grinned. “Never mind.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said. Then, after a beat, she added, “I like the scars you already have. I would prefer it if you didn’t collect any additional ones.”
Cedric’s smile faltered at the edges—not sad, not melancholy. Just serious. Contemplative.
Several beats passed in silence, before Elyria said down the bond, “What’s the real reason?”
Cedric hesitated. “I want the reminder. Of the victory, however temporary. Of our losses, however grave. Of the promise.”
“What promise?”
“To make him pay.”
Another beat. “You made me a promise too, you know.”
The knight’s brow furrowed, then released as he remembered. “I did.”