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TYPICAL HUMAN

ELYRIA

Two days.

Two fucking days in this stars-forsaken camp, dodging rumors and whispers. The bolder travelers approached her to ask for training tips, begged for a showcase of her magic. Elyria was no stranger to the attention, but she missed the usual endless supply of drink that helped her cope.

Worst of all, Elyria had barely spoken to Kit. Any conversations she began were quickly interrupted, and Kit had taken it upon herself to fulfill every request Elyria denied. It was all, “I’ll train with you!” and, “I’m not a wildshaper, but I can show you how I craft a whip from water.” Oh, and, “Do I have any stories about the Revenant? Do I ever.” Meaning not only did Elyria’s past continue to haunt her present, but any hopes Elyria had of persuading Kit not to take on the Crucible were dying. Being slowly suffocated by Kit’s incessant, irritating, and wholly unnecessary congeniality.

Elyria might have been impressed at the way Kit wielded her social graces to evade her attempts to talk, had the circumstances been different.

Had she not been running out of time.

When the aurora vanished overhead, Elyria’s heart started beating so loudly and erratically that she wondered if it would burst from her chest. The reality of the situation sank in as she chased after Kit.

She was just here. Elyria just saw her. She’d rushed forward in an attempt to catch up with her but lost her just as quickly. “Fuck,” she said under her breath.

Elyria felt the back of her neck prickle, the weight of judgmental eyes washing over her. She scanned the crowd of travelers making their way toward the castle, half searching for Kit and half trying to determine the source of the daggers she felt currently being stared into her back.

She turned her head a fraction, her eyes darting to a hulking human standing a few paces behind her. She observed him in pieces, trying not to draw attention by staring. Brown hair, tan skin, square jaw. Gleaming armor—a knight. And yes, that was a look of pure, unfiltered contempt on his face.

Elyria sighed, sending a silent curse up to whatever celestial had decided her personal torment was their favorite kind of entertainment. It was moments like this that made her doubt how steadfast the immortal beings were in keeping their vow not to interfere with mortal affairs.

“ Excuse me,” the knight said, the scent of sandalwood and something else—something smoky, like burning embers—assaulting her senses as he lumbered past her. Shouldered past, really, as if she had been the one doing something wrong. Did he think she hadn’t been able to feel the way his eyes burned into her? The judgment oozing from him, despite the fact that they hadn’t exchanged a single word?

Her face felt hot thinking about it. As if this entire misguided mission hadn’t been disappointing enough, this man had the gall to charge past her as if she were in his way?

Elyria didn’t have much experience with humans, not since the war. But she suspected this was typical behavior.

She met the knight’s eyes—warm brown with a thin ring of gold encircling his iris.

“You’re excused,” she said coolly, inwardly grinning at the way his body immediately tensed. She hadn’t thought it possible for him to wind himself any tighter.

Who was he to judge her, anyway? He was a human. Hardly worth the aggravation she felt simmering in her blood.

She supposed he must have been somewhat important, given the spectators’ reactions as he’d plodded past. A champion. And a well-connected one, if the crest welded to the front of his well-maintained armor and the ornate hilt of the sword swinging at his hip were any indication.

As if the sheer size of him wasn’t already enough to make him a serious contender beyond the Gate, human or not.

All the more reason to ensure Kit didn’t follow him through it.

And maybe the celestials decided to take pity on Elyria after all, because before her standoff with the knight could devolve into anything worse, a flash of moonlight-silver hair flew across her vision. With a final look at the knight, she took off.

“Katerina Ravenswing!” Elyria hollered across the sea of hats and hoods taking their sweet fucking time as they ambled toward Castle Lumin. Heads turned, and Elyria swore she heard a squeak of alarm before Kit darted up the castle steps and out of sight.

Frustration surged within her. She shoved her way forward, ignoring the renewed murmurs and whispers of those around her. She blinked, trying to shake off the sensation that time was slipping away from her, too fast.

Kit would not escape her again. Elyria would get to her, finally make her see reason. There was absolutely no way Elyria would sit back and allow Kit to walk to her death.

She would listen. Elyria would make her listen.

That was, if she didn’t murder her first.