CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Through the courtyard behind the Crimson Clover, Evylin and Ilain returned to the event hall where the Alliance had met the previous night.
This time, they went into a separate, smaller room intended for more intimate gatherings.
Heat rushed out to encase them as Ilain unceremoniously opened the door.
The tiled floors were cleared of furnishings, stretching the length of the narrow room to lead to the massive fireplace.
The singular, simple golden chandelier cast the room in a dim, amber glow.
Dark draperies hung open by the windows, looking out onto the courtyard, allowing the moonlight to gild the room in its silver light.
A cluster of people stood in the assembly hall.
Nearest to the door, Thom and Archminister Fishere waited in coats of gray, flanking the path to the center of the room where two pillars of marble stood, one black with a silver box on its top and another white and topped with a golden box.
Ethenn and Brea, dressed in black, stood on either side of the pillars.
Behind them was a coterie of men and women in white. Mages. And there, in their midst, stood Deckard.
Evylin’s heart thumped giddily, and a sudden lightness swept through her thoughts.
Deckard was, in a word, regal. He stood with his shoulders back, taking her in as she studied him.
The cut of his white coat and trousers reminded her of his officer’s uniform, though the coat was made of fine wool with intricate braiding and white metal buttons.
A cravat peeked through the high collar of his coat, only his black boots breaking the starkness of his dress.
His reddish-brown hair, freshly cropped short, was swept back with polished refinement, only a hint of stubble along his jawline—a concession she was sure he’d made for her.
The breathless feeling inside her lungs was the way Evylin knew she should have felt on their wedding day three months ago. On that occasion, she’d only felt bewilderment and unease. If only she had known then what she knew now. . . .
Impatient to be at his side, Evylin lifted her skirts and darted forward to Deckard. The train of her dress hissed, and her boots pattered loudly against the tiles. Deckard met her halfway, taking her hands to draw her close.
“You’d think I hadn’t seen you in days,” he whispered, his eyes twinkling, “with how my heart reacted just now.”
Evylin grinned, rolling onto the balls of her feet to kiss his cheek. “Sometimes,” she said, “hours can feel like days.”
Deckard cupped her cheek then, his thumb tracing her skin.
The sound of the door closing drew them back to the room. Evylin turned to see Ilain, Thom, and Fishere approaching. “You look fancy,” Thom remarked.
Evylin reached over to straighten his silken, silver cravat. “As do you,” she teased. “You don’t look half bad in gray.”
“I think the term you’re searching for is ‘devastatingly dull,’” he replied self-derisively.
Unaffected by their banter, Fishere spoke. “Now that we’re all here, shall we begin?”
“Indeed,” Ilain said, hands clasped before her. “The Alliance has given me permission to officiate this ceremony, so allow me to explain a few things first, hm?”
Stepping back, Deckard offered his arm to Evylin.
She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, enjoying his closeness.
They followed Ilain to the pillars in the center of the room, her hair catching in the soft light.
“Now,” she said as they walked, “let me remind you that magic is balance, and Bonding is that balance perfected. Therefore, everything we do tonight is to represent that balance. Black and white, Warrior and Mage, female and male.”
She turned around, jade green eyes landing on them with seriousness.
“Next, it is important for you to understand that this is not a physical bond,” she said.
“That is what a marriage is—a binding of the body. This is a Bond of the soul. It is beyond the tangible, so it is only accessible through magic. Thus, we require attendants of a magical nature. Aside from Archminister Fishere, everyone is here to participate in some fashion.”
Curiosity drove Evylin’s brows to rise.
Ilain noticed and prompted, “Yes, dear?”
Evylin glanced over her shoulder at Thom. He shifted from foot to foot behind them. She turned back to Ilain. “What role does Thom play, then?” she asked.
“I’ll get to that in a moment,” Ilain said, then continued, “First, allow me to walk you through the ceremony and introduce you to all our attendants.”
Ilain gestured to Ethenn and Brea on either side of the pillars. “Throughout the ceremony, we will utilize magic to seal the Bond, but during the process of the Bonding, our Warriors will assist each of you. In balance, Breata will assist Jonn—”
Brea’s black-brown eyes glimmered in the low light, dipping her chin in an amused nod.
“And Ethenn will assist Evylin,” Ilain concluded, motioning to the young man, who stood with hands clasped behind his back like a soldier at ease.
Then her hands settled on the silver and gold boxes.
“Black and silver for Warrior, white and gold for Mage, these boxes contain an individual moonstone to represent each of you and our dual moons, symbolizing the perfect balance Allore created for our universe. While the stones aren’t magical in and of themselves, it is possible to infuse them with magic, as I’ve done with my own rings.
” She brandished her hands, the four gemstones flashing in their settings.
It gave Evylin the sudden curiosity to know if she could do the same with her wedding rings, though she chose to ask that question at a later date.
“You’ll do the same here,” Ilain instructed. “Evylin, you’ll infuse your magic into the black moonstone, and Jonn, you’ll do the same with the white. Once completed, Ethenn and Breata will use their own magic to break the stones. Which is where our Mages come in . . .”
Ilain beckoned them to follow, leading them to the seven Mages awaiting them.
“For the ceremony, we have one Mage to embody each resource. I will represent Fire, of course, and Auden will channel Day—” Auden smiled at them in greeting while his sister spoke on.
“Next is our Water Mage, Ivry Doyle—” The golden-haired woman gave a gentle curtsy, a friendly expression on her face.
“Grey Trumane is our Night Mage—” The man’s head dipped in a bow, his dark eyes a curious contrast to his white-blond hair.
“Isla is our Wind Mage, naturally.” A kind, reserved greeting came from Isla.
“And representing Time is Valiana Mourant.” Another stunning blonde with crystal-blue eyes smiled softly, her beauty almost distracting.
“Jarrad is our Terrae Mage—” The man smirked at them but remained silent.
“And finally, Lord Obel will represent Space, as our only other Space Mage is currently on the other side of the country.”
Evylin glanced at Deckard before returning the older Night Mage’s reserved greeting.
“Upon the breaking of the moonstones,” Ilain continued, “we will use the resources of life to fuse the halves together—white and black, Warrior and Mage in perfect balance. These reforged moonstones will symbolize your Bond, serving as reminders for you to carry with you for the rest of your days. These talismans will be tied to you as you will be tied to one another. You cannot lose them or misplace them, for they will always return to you.”
Evylin thought to ask how that worked but assumed the book Ilain had given her explained the phenomenon.
“So long as you two live,” Ilain said, reverence in her tone, “you will carry a piece of each other in your souls. It’s what makes your magic and connection stronger. Half Warrior, half Mage, living within each of you.”
“And . . .” Evylin took a deep breath. “How do we do that? Infuse our souls into moonstones.”
“Like you would accomplish any magic,” Ilain said simply, as though it should be obvious.
“By focus and thought,” Deckard surmised.
“Exactly.” Ilain smiled cheerfully at him. “Now, one last thing. As your magic takes hold, it will consume you. Don’t fear that experience—it’s necessary for the Bonding to unite. You’ll be so caught up in the magic that you will lose control of your mind and body. That’s meant to happen.”
Evylin shifted uncomfortably, and Deckard’s brow pinched.
The idea of losing control of their faculties wasn’t appealing.
But Evylin supposed she already knew what it was like to let her magic consume her.
She’d experienced a similar sensation in the Time Keep and Dunneshead, her magic and Deckard’s working as one.
“And,” Ilain added, “don’t worry if you pass out.”
Evylin blanched.
“That happens sometimes.”
“Pass out?” Deckard repeated in concern.
Ilain waved a hand through the air. “Apparently, it’s a common occurrence with these ceremonies. The senses become overwhelmed, and the magic locks you into a bit of a stasis. And that—” she smirked, motioning behind them, “is why Thom is here.”
Perking up, Thom drew his shoulders back under their inspection.
“It’s fortunate that your brother is present, Jonn,” Ilain said.
“You see, a non-magical individual is necessary during the ceremony to bring the Bonded pair out of that consumed state. The duty can be performed by any non-magical person, but having a blood relation present improves the chances of success.”
Deckard frowned. “You mean there’s a chance of failure?”
Ilain shrugged. “There’s a chance of failure in everything.”
Before Evylin or Deckard could voice any further concern, Ilain clapped her hands. “All right, enough of the introductions,” she said, guiding them to stand before the pillars. “Time to begin.”
Evylin thought to protest, but with her heart lodged in her throat, she couldn’t form the words.
Thankfully, Deckard managed to find his voice. “One moment,” he said, then pulled Evylin to the side.