CHAPTER FOUR #3
A sliver of worry worked its way into Evylin’s gut, but she determined not to let her uncertainty show. “Jonn,” she said with a smirk, “if you’re looking for a way out of our marriage, I’m afraid it’s a bit late.”
His lips quirked in the corner, but he fought off a smile. “That’s not what I’m referring to,” he replied, voice low. “I don’t want to be a Mage forever.”
Sighing, Evylin stepped closer. She set her hands on his arms comfortingly, holding his gaze.
“I don’t think you have much choice,” she said.
“You are a Mage just as I am a Warrior. We always have been, even if we didn’t know it.
And I don’t think there’s any escaping that truth. Not so long as we’re together.”
Deckard’s chin dipped even as his eyes held hers. “So you want this to be our life? Working for the Alliance? Being part of their regime?”
Though he didn’t say it, Evylin could hear his true meaning. He’d promised to give her the life she wanted, to make her happy in whatever way he could. And he wanted to know, was this the way he could fulfill that vow?
“I don’t know,” Evylin admitted honestly.
The path before them was riddled with danger.
They could potentially lose their lives.
But it was also filled with hope and the chance to see a truly brighter future for Allund and for the people they knew and loved.
She knew what life Deckard wanted. He’d told her early in their marriage that he dreamed of having a family, of a wife and children to love and provide for.
While he hadn’t revealed much more of that dream to her, she rather thought having Deckard’s children would be an exciting adventure of its own.
But what sort of family could they have as a Warrior and a Mage?
Would their work with the Alliance take them from their children just as it had taken Isla and Vayden from Reyana?
Where would they even live? And would their children inherit magic too?
Or would it skip a generation like it had for Emmaas’s family?
Worse, were they destined to see all their children and grandchildren leave this world before they even drew near the twilight of life?
Evylin could see those questions swirling in Deckard’s worried gaze even as they plagued her.
Reaching up, Evylin smoothed her thumb over the crease between his brows. None of those unanswered questions mattered. She only knew one thing.
“I want to live,” Evylin whispered, resting her palm on his cheek. “And as long as you’re there, I don’t really care what that looks like anymore.”
Deckard’s chest rose and fell with deep, halting breaths as he stared back at her.
He looked at war with himself, his jaw tight and his expression perpetually pinched.
She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed, hurt, or angry.
His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip before he drew his shoulders back, standing to his full height.
He didn’t speak but gave her a steady nod.
Offering her his hand, Deckard led her back into the room.
Evylin ignored the expectant stares of those around them, watching Deckard’s tight posture carefully.
Was she pushing him into something he didn’t want?
It was the right choice, wasn’t it? Not only would it protect her from Blount’s machinations, but it would also deepen their connection and secure their safety.
She knew he wanted those things too. But was this cost too high?
Once they reached their previous position by their seats, Deckard met the archminister’s gaze.
“After discussion, it seems that the best course of action is for Evylin and me to Bond,” he said, his delivery flat.
“As Highlady Calder stated, it resolves the issue of Blount’s desire to Bond with Evylin himself, and we agree that it would benefit our mission as a whole.
Beyond that . . .” he faltered for a moment, then concluded, “it is what we want for our marriage and our future.”
There was a beat of silence as the entire room turned to hear the archminister’s reply.
Evylin’s hand trembled around the tension of Deckard’s grasp.
Worry pricked her heart like a thorn. Her announcement had been impulsive, fueled by her desperation to protect herself from Blount.
She’d been self-centered, only imagining what she wanted for their future.
And now, she’d publicly pressured him into a life he’d never wanted.
“Very well,” Archminister Fishere said with ready agreement.
Evylin’s heart sank.
“The Administration heartily agrees to the benefit of this decision. Mr. Nowen,” Fishere turned to the clerk, “make a note of this and prepare the necessary arrangements. We will perform the Bonding ceremony of Colonel and Private Deckard tomorrow night. After which, we will send off the Calders, including Mr. Calder and Highlady Freye, our new Ephrian friends, and Lieutenant Lohen to complete their mission. Now, if there’s nothing else . . .”
Fishere paused, surveying their party.
Evylin knew she should speak up. She should tell them that she’d changed her mind; she and Deckard needed more time to discuss this life-altering decision.
They didn’t even know what Bonding entailed.
Evidently, it involved a ceremony, but of what sort?
And what would Bonding do to them? Ilain had called it a binding of hearts, a fusing of their souls. What could that possibly look like?
Opening her mouth, the words didn’t come in time before Fishere moved on.
“Excellent,” he said, then regarded the room as a whole.
“With that cleared up, we have concluded our business. Highlord Calder, please submit your final requests to Mr. Nowen for processing. Should you need anything, I will return to visit the Crimson Clover in the morning to oversee affairs. In the meantime, you are all dismissed to enjoy the rest of your evening. May Allore’s grace be with you. ”
“Allore’s grace,” the crowd called back.
Only Evylin and Deckard stood, unmoving, even as the rest of the room rose from their tables.
She could feel the tension in his muscles, the firm grip he held on her hand.
What had she done to them? Her mind raced, trying to cobble together what she knew about Bonding.
It was so very little, and she’d committed them to it.
“Well,” Rafferty said, drawing her from her thoughts far too quickly, “that was eventful. What a fun little surprise you had up your sleeve, Eve.”
Across the table, Ilain smirked. “Indeed, it was.”
Deckard shifted Evylin closer as the other attendees began milling around them. A few Alliance members made as if to approach, but Vayden leaned forward with a furious glare in his eyes, threatening violence if they didn’t bugger off.
“We just want to show our gratitude,” one woman proclaimed in offense.
Isla raised her brow. “You want to politic, Suette,” she returned. “Or, at best, you want to say that you shook hands with the saviors of the nation.”
Suette turned away, disgruntled.
“Here,” Vayden said, motioning to a couple of the men and women around him. With their help, he shifted the tables out of the way so the Ephrians could join them away from the fray of departing members. “We’ll wait here until the storm has passed.”
Pressed close in the narrow space, Auden turned to Deckard. “I want to apologize,” he said. “I didn’t realize you all felt so bullied into our cause. It was never our—”
“Oh, come off it, Audy,” Rafferty interrupted, a wily grin on his lips. “We don’t care about that. What we don’t appreciate is being herded like some unruly flock of sheep.”
Thom gave a firm nod. “We believe in your cause—”
“Speak for yourself,” Rafferty interrupted.
Thom gave him a dismissive frown before turning back to Auden. “We just didn’t fully know what it was until this evening.”
Resplendent in her scarlet gown, Ilain elbowed him. “You could have asked.”
He smirked at her. “Affairs of state aren’t my preferred topic of conversation. Nice dress, by the way. It really sets off your—” His eyes darted to her cleavage for a spare second. “Charming wit.”
“Why, thank you, darling,” Ilain said, brushing her fingers along the beaded bodice. “It was a gift from an admirer.”
Vayden scoffed. “A bribe is more like it,” he said.
“It’s only a bribe if the inducement in question influences the decision of the individual it’s intended to persuade,” she returned. “And it will not.”
“Bribery, eh?” Rafferty sniggered, hopping up to sit atop the nearby table. “Who’s trying to induce your favor, lady flame?”
“Major Olsen,” Ilain said.