CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
Ethenn hesitated, glancing at Evylin. “It’s only . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just daunting, knowing I have so much work ahead of me.”
Watching the exchange, Evylin frowned. After their time training in the moors of Wauld, she knew Ethenn well enough now to know he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Only just overcoming her own tendency to distrust others, she allowed him to withhold his private thoughts.
“Don’t worry,” Brea said, unaware. “Your inexperience won’t damn our mission. Together, you’ve both done well over the last two months. You’ll do even better with my training.”
Ethenn gave her a half-smile.
Resuming their lesson, Brea talked with them about the individual strengths and weaknesses that she noticed and how she intended to improve them.
Many of the things she’d told Ethenn were the same areas that Evylin had pointed out to him during their one-on-one sessions the last few weeks, which was gratifying.
She’d never imagined herself to be a teacher, but it felt good knowing she was better than she’d expected.
However, Evylin didn’t appreciate it when Brea directly contradicted Hewitt’s training by correcting her grip.
“That’s not how Hewitt taught me,” Evylin protested.
“Perhaps not,” she replied, unbothered. “But this is a better way. It’s how the Schonese Imperial Guard are trained.”
Evylin gave her a flat glare. “We’re not in Schon.”
Brea raised a brow but didn’t reply.
Pressing down her defensive reaction, Evylin pursed her lips. “I understand that there are different ways to do things,” she said. “But this worked for Hewitt his entire life, and it works for me. There’s no reason to change it.”
“I would not tell you to do something without reason, Evylin. The grip I’ve shown you is better because you are a woman.
It allows you to take less brunt of the blow with your wrists, prolonging your strength.
” Brea tapped Evylin’s current grip. “The way you have it now, you don’t have the same mobility.
While I’m sure that it worked just fine for your six-and-a-half-foot beast of an uncle, it is not sustainable for your build nor your quick, springy fighting style. ”
Feeling as though she were betraying her uncle, Evylin accepted the critique and adjusted her grip.
It felt wrong, and she dropped the sword several times during her training bouts with Ethenn, but that was to be expected.
Every new skill took time and patience to master.
Something she’d learned with Hewitt more than a decade ago.
Brea assigned each of them skills to practice when they weren’t training.
She wanted Evylin to work on her dexterity by learning small tricks with knives, as well as improve her accuracy by throwing them.
Ethenn’s tasks were to refine his finesse and control.
She demonstrated numerous exercises to help tighten his range of motion and make him more aware of his body movements.
One of the practice assignments surprised both of her students.
“You want me to do what?” Ethenn asked.
“Dance,” Brea said. “Dancing requires grace, stability, and control. It will sharpen your skills faster than most things. And it’s far more enjoyable than simply standing there, thrusting and brandishing a stick.”
Ethenn grimaced in doubt. “It isn’t like I have an opportunity for dancing.”
Evylin smirked at his discomfort. “We can make an opportunity. I’m sure Ilain would be thrilled.”
He pursed his lips, but Brea nodded. “That’s a good idea, Evylin,” she said. “Perhaps you could start tonight.”
“One problem,” Ethenn said. “I don’t know how to dance.”
“Oh, that’s not true,” Evylin returned. “You danced with me after we saved Prince Ephren.”
“You were drunk.”
“So were you.”
“Exactly.” Ethenn shook his head. “I’m not good at it.”
“So there’s your first assignment,” Brea said. “Get good at it.”
“It isn’t like we have music.”
Brea brushed her hand through the air. “Just ask Vayden to sing. He has a splendid baritone.”
Though Ethenn didn’t look inclined to listen, Evylin patted his shoulder placatingly. “If it helps, I’ll make Jonn dance with me too,” she offered.
Shortly after, Brea concluded their training for the evening, and they began to make their way back to the camp.
As they neared the mountains close to the Wauld-Ephria border, the terrain was growing rockier.
Evylin remembered being taught that the giant mountain range was named Allmar, or Allore’s Arm, its grandest peak known as Heavenscrest. But after being in Wauld for more than a month, she wondered if the Westerners had a different name for the range and peak.
Evylin’s contemplation of the manifold differences between the nations was halted when Ethenn tapped her arm and whispered her name. She turned to him in expectation.
“Can I ask you something?” he said in a hushed tone.
Evylin glanced ahead of them. Brea was several strides away, though there was little doubt she could still hear them. “Of course,” she said, turning back to Ethenn.
Stepping over a gnarled root, Ethenn kept his gaze on his boots. “What is it like? To be Bonded.”
“Oh.” Evylin blinked, surprised by the question. She scratched her head in thought. “Well . . . It’s nice. I’m still getting used to it and what all it means, but it’s—it’s been good so far.”
Though she knew that was an understatement—being Bonded to Deckard was incredible, life-altering, and wholly enlivening—she didn’t know how to explain that. And she wasn’t entirely certain she cared to bare her soul quite that much.
“So,” Ethenn prompted, “it’s worth it?”
Evylin smiled at him. “It’s definitely worth it.”
“Not if you don’t love the person you’re Bonded with,” Brea said.
Evylin and Ethenn stopped in their tracks, caught off guard by her blunt interjection.
Hearing that they’d stopped, Brea turned around to face them but didn’t add anything to her statement.
“But . . .” Ethenn settled a hand on his sword pommel. “Ilain said that even if the individuals weren’t in love when they Bonded, they would fall in love eventually because of the Bond.”
“It encourages love,” Brea corrected. “But love takes many forms: parent and child, siblings, friends, lovers. Bonding cannot make you fall in love with your partner. It can only help you see their soul the way no other can. You may come to love them, but that doesn’t mean you will be in love with them. ”
Having the fresh experience of a Bond with Deckard, Evylin could rightly say that the link did indeed encourage the feeling within her.
But she’d already been in love with him.
Was it possible that if she had Bonded with another Mage, like Auden or Blount, she never would have felt anything more than platonic admiration for them?
“That’s not what Ilain told us,” Evylin said, remembering the way Ilain had described Bonding to them the night they discovered Deckard’s magic. “She said that even if the couple wasn’t in love, they would be shortly after the Bond.”
Brea’s expression turned bitterly cynical. “Ilain Calder is a narrow-minded elgotrá,” she said tersely, then glanced at Ethenn. “No offense.”
He only stared at her, too taken aback to respond.
“I’ve known the Calders for over a decade,” she continued.
“They are powerful and intelligent, yes. But they are also stubborn and blinded by their own desires. Ilain has been set up to rule since she was sixteen years old. She began studying Bonding a year later. After centuries of failed study, she was the one who finally discovered the key. For more than twenty years, she has been planning her union with a Warrior, wholly focused on this idealized version of who she’s supposed to become.
No matter the reality, she’d convince herself that she would fall in love with the Warrior she chose because it’s too devastating for her to believe otherwise. ”
Ethenn shifted uncomfortably, and Evylin glanced at him.
Even though she assumed he knew the truth of Ilain’s mutual affection for him, she felt sure that Ilain hadn’t told him of her love.
After all, Ilain was just discovering that for herself.
But Evylin wasn’t the person to tell Ethenn of those feelings.
After a short breath, Brea shook her head dejectedly. “I don’t mean to be callous or belittling,” she said. “It is simply hard for me to support Ilain’s cause when I know she is wrong.”
“How do you know?” Ethenn asked flatly. “If Evie and Deckard are the first to Bond in centuries, how can you be sure?”
“I think she’s right,” Evylin said with a sigh.
“Being Bonded . . . It isn’t that I feel more in love with Jonn.
My regard for him, my dedication to him, my urge to see him happy—those have all grown.
But the depth of my romantic love for him has stayed the same.
I feel no more compulsion to be in love with him than I did before. ”
“Exactly,” Brea said. “Magic doesn’t induce romance. It spurs true connection. That is all. You may love the person, but that does not mean you will love them the way a spouse should.”
Ethenn picked at the leather on his hilt, considering their words. He cleared his throat. “That doesn’t affect me,” he said. “I love Ilain.”
“But does she love you?” Brea countered.
And though Evylin knew she did—or at least, Ilain thought she did—it appeared that Ethenn wasn’t aware of that because he said, “No.”
Brea raised her brow. “Can you live with that?”
Though he hesitated, Ethenn nodded. “I can.”
“Bénediáso. May you be happy in your choices.” Brea shrugged. “I know I will not be.”
Evylin looked between the two of them, growing more bemused. Brea didn’t want to be Bonded, yet it sounded as though she intended to be. Still newly acquainted with the woman, Evylin chose not to pursue her curiosity. If Brea wanted to explain, she would. But the other issue she could address.