"Elowyn."
Elara turned at the sound of his voice.
Cedric stood a few paces back, half-shadowed beneath one of the corridor's lanterns. The crowd of students had already dispersed down the hall—Marian's voice still echoing faintly in the distance—but he hadn't moved. His hand rested against the edge of the stone wall, posture easy yet deliberate.
She had learned, over the past months, to recognize that tone.
He only used it when he wanted to say something—not the casual, throwaway comments he made to keep the group's energy alive, but the ones that lingered. The kind that carried weight even before he spoke.
"Ced-, ahem…Reilan," she said softly, turning to face him fully. "You stayed behind."
He gave a faint, almost sheepish smile. "You noticed."
"I tend to notice when people call my name," she replied, a trace of dry humor in her tone.
That earned a quiet exhale from him—half amusement, half nerves. He pushed away from the wall and walked closer, his steps slow, measured.
