CHAPTER THREE
The gentlest touch drew Evylin to open her heavy-lidded eyes. Deckard’s deep voice thrummed through her ears, reaching down into her heart as he whispered her name. She rolled into the touch, his palm warm against her cheek. At last, he had returned.
Deckard pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s time to go,” he said softly.
Evylin’s eyes flew open. “What?” she gasped.
Smiling down at her, Deckard’s form was outlined by the bright amber light of sunset. “Well, we have a few minutes still,” he said. “I thought you might need time to prepare.”
Evylin stared at him in shock. “How long have you been back?”
He shrugged. “A little over three hours.”
“You didn’t wake me?”
“You were tired.” Deckard’s thumb brushed her cheekbone. “I wanted to let you sleep.”
Evylin didn’t know how to tell him that she’d rather have lost sleep to him and his affections than be well-rested.
Women in Ephrian society didn’t discuss such brazen topics, not even with their husbands.
And while she normally didn’t care about being perceived as a decorous lady, this was Colonel Jonn Deckard—he prized propriety more than most things.
Perhaps he wouldn’t appreciate her wanton thoughts.
Capturing his hand, Evylin held his gaze. “Next time,” she said, “I give you permission to wake me.”
He smiled, but Evylin wondered if he’d listen. He always was a bit too courteous for his own good.
Rising, Evylin asked about the time. They had fifteen minutes until they were expected in the foyer, where Vayden and Isla would escort them to the meeting. Not long, but just enough time for her to slip behind the changing screen and brush down her sleep-mussed hair in the looking glass.
“What were you doing all this time?” Evylin asked, readjusting her blouse.
Deckard’s voice drifted to her from the other side of the screen. “Preparing. Thinking. Reading.”
“The Alliance gave us books?”
“I found your book in your saddlebag.”
“Oh.” Evylin grabbed a woven shawl from the wardrobe. She’d forgotten that she’d brought the novel with her, but it was small, and she readily tucked it in with her belongings when they were preparing for their journey into Wauld. “Do you like it?”
Deckard waited patiently on the settee as she turned the corner. He wore a steel-blue coat and tan trousers tucked into his black boots. His eyes practically twinkled in the evening light. “It’s no ‘King’s Knight,’” he said playfully, “but it’ll do.”
As Evylin approached, he stood, and she brushed his smooth jawline. “You shaved,” she lamented.
“Was I not supposed to?”
“I’ve told you before,” she said, angling her face toward his. “I like you with a bit of scruff.”
“My sincerest apologies,” he replied. “But I don’t.”
Evylin laughed as he took her hand, guiding her to the door. “In all your preparing, thinking, and reading, I take it you didn’t consider joining me for a nap,” she teased.
“I considered it,” he admitted. “I just decided against it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t nap.”
Evylin narrowed her gaze in disbelief.
Deckard shrugged, opening the door. “It doesn’t agree with me.”
She scoffed. “Napping agrees with everyone.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, turning the key in the lock just as the door across the hall opened.
“Almighty, you two took your time,” Thom said, slipping out of his room. “I was waiting by the door for the last twenty minutes.”
“Why?” Deckard asked just as the next two doors cracked open, Rafferty and Ethenn spilling over their thresholds.
“Time to go?” Rafferty said.
Deckard surveyed his men with incredulity. “Were you all waiting to go down with us?” he asked.
“Of course,” Rafferty replied. “What, you thought we’d like to small talk while the Calders continued their family reunion? No, thanks.”
Deckard sighed, and Evylin smiled. All three soldiers were dressed far more casually than their commanding officer, coats hanging open over their tunics, and only Ethenn had bothered to shave. They followed behind Evylin and Deckard like a personal guard.
“How did you three pass your afternoons?” Evylin asked as they descended the stairs, her hand tucked around Deckard’s arm.
“Napped,” the three men said in unison.
Evylin tossed Deckard a sly grin, to which he shook his head in amusement.
When they entered the foyer, they found only Vayden and Isla waiting. “You were late,” Vayden said kindly, “so I sent Auds and Lainy on ahead with Reyana.”
“Auds and Lainy,” Rafferty quipped. “I do love a good nickname.”
“Don’t call her that if you want to live,” Thom warned.
Vayden gestured for them to follow. “We’ll go through the back,” he explained.
“The Alliance owns this whole set of buildings through various members, so we have ready access and viable excuses for our organization as a whole to visit the business. It makes meeting vastly easier, and it keeps individuals like my siblings and our Madam Warrior safe from prying eyes.”
“Then the meeting isn’t in the hotel?” Deckard asked.
“Oh, no, there isn’t a room large enough,” Vayden said. “There’s a banquet hall on the far side of the complex. People rent it out for parties or dances. We use it for our meetings.”
Going out through the kitchen’s back door, they stepped into a triangular courtyard.
The stable ran the length of one side, two alleyways splitting off from opposite sides.
Lamps lit the space as the spring sun made its final descent, casting it in a dark yellow glow.
A patch of grass filled most of the space, wide enough for only a few horses to graze at once.
Vayden and Isla led the way, he in a dark brown coat and she in a deep green dress.
The couple stood in great contrast to one another.
She was surely a whole foot shorter than her husband, and he was the epitome of a pale Wauldener while her Schonese heritage shone prominently in her black-brown hair and bronzed complexion.
Yet, despite their three-year separation, somehow, the pair moved with a sense of comfort and awareness of one another that Evylin could only hope to achieve with Deckard someday.
When they reached the far side of the courtyard, Vayden opened another door. “After you, darling,” he said with a sly grin to his wife.
“Thank you, love,” Isla said, trailing her fingers along his arm as she stepped through. Then she motioned for the Ephrians to follow her. “This way. Most of those attending should already be here. And I won’t have them stopping you to put in their bids for joining our venture.”
They moved through a storage room, then a back hall, and finally into an entry space where two double doors hung open, leading into a grand hall.
A large fireplace nearly filled an entire wall at the back of the room, heating the space.
The vaulted ceilings featured large, yet simple, chandeliers.
Black and brown square stones tiled the floor, and the walls were paneled in wood.
A great clamor of voices filled the hall with conversation and laughter.
Four tables lined the room, three running parallel down the hall with enough room for twenty people at each, while the fourth stood before the fire, with only eight individuals sitting along its length and facing the others.
It was evident that the dozens of attendees were perfectly at ease and in welcome company despite the blatant disparity in their stations.
There were men and women dressed in the finery of the wealthy, some even possibly ranking as nobility.
Others wore more middling suits and dresses.
Even a few were in all but rags—likely the best attire they owned.
Yet, the rich spoke with the poor and the poor with the rich as though they were the dearest of friends.
That is, until the Ephrians’ presence was noticed.
The room fell into silence for but a moment before the murmurs began.
Evylin inched closer to Deckard as Isla led their way to the far-left table.
A gentleman dressed in all the trappings of wealth rose as they neared, but Vayden called from the back of the group, “Sit down, Clovis, or I’ll make you. ”
Chagrined, the man dropped back into his seat while the people around him guffawed good-naturedly at his embarrassment.
From the back of the table, Isla gestured toward the center, where five empty seats awaited them. “Those are for you,” she instructed as Vayden stepped up to her side. “We’ll be across the table.”
While the couple split off from them, they walked down the length of the floor, attempting to keep their heads down and ignore the obvious stares of the Alliance members.
When they stopped at their seats, Thom tapped Deckard’s arm and slipped around him, taking the one at the end while Deckard held the middle chair out of Evylin.
Shortly thereafter, they were positioned—Ethenn, Rafferty, Evylin, Deckard, and Thom across from Auden, Ilain, Reyana, Isla, and Vayden.
As it appeared they were the last to arrive, one of the gentlemen at the head table rang a bell, signaling the start of the meeting.
Several lines of serving staff funneled into the room, carrying trays of food while the gentleman stood.
“Good evening, my friends,” he called in a steady Waulden accent.
His gray hair and wrinkled face marked his age to be somewhere near seventy, but his sharp gaze betrayed no wizened mind.
“It is wonderful to see you all together once again, despite the circumstances.”