CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #3
Evylin chuckled, though she understood the sentiment. In the wide-open cavern with the hulking shadows around them, it was too easy to let visions of sneaking bloodwolves fray your nerves.
As much of the camp followed Thom’s lead, Evylin huddled closer to Deckard, resting her head on his shoulder.
They sat against the back wall, safe in one another’s presence and in no hurry to sleep.
The watch rotation had continued, and this was their night off.
All around them, their friends lay down, clustered together like a flock of sheep. Auden’s orb dimmed.
On the other side of the camp, Vayden and Isla sat up to take the first watch. The couple spoke quietly to one another in Schonese. Only the faintest threads of their speech echoed across the cavern to Evylin. Deckard’s fingers grazed her arm, sending a current of magic snapping under her skin.
“Do you believe them?” she whispered so faintly she wondered if he heard.
Deckard adjusted his seating, bringing his lips down to press against her temple. “About what?” he murmured.
“About the creatures,” she said. “Do you think the Alliance expects them to return?”
He was silent for several seconds, and she could feel the conflict within him, though she couldn’t name all the emotions within it. Hesitation, worry, and . . . anger?
“I don’t know what to think,” he replied at last, voice low in her ear. “But I’m beginning to doubt this mission of ours.”
Evylin tensed. “Why?”
“At every turn, we learn of another secret they’re keeping,” he whispered. “I don’t trust the Alliance. I don’t trust their aims.”
Unsure how much trust she placed in the organization herself, Evylin scanned the camp as she reflected on Deckard’s cynicism.
Near her, Ethenn lay beside Ilain, their backs pressed against one another.
It was an odd sort of intimacy, different from the way she and Deckard were, but still affectionate.
And it tugged at Evylin in the strangest way.
These people had become part of their lives.
After their months of travel, Ilain felt like a sister to her as surely as Ethenn had become a brother.
Even Auden held a place in her heart. They’d fought together, survived together.
They’d shared their knowledge and trained them as best they could.
Everything the pair did was in pursuit of a better world, spurred on by the love of their brother, who sat in their camp now, sacrificing his own life along with his wife to see that future come to pass for their daughter.
Whatever the Alliance’s aims, Evylin had to trust in the goodness of the Calders. Because if people as loving and loyal as the family existed, she wanted to stand by their side.
Evylin looked up at Deckard, softening her gaze. She set a hand on the side of his face, keeping him near. “I think you’re wrong,” she whispered. “They do not maliciously keep secrets. Whenever we ask, they’re forthcoming. It’s just that we haven’t thought to ask these questions until now.”
His demeanor didn’t ease, and she could see he didn’t believe in the Calders’ goodness in the same way.
Remembering Hewitt’s advice, Evylin gave him a tender smile. “Do you truly not trust the Alliance? Or is this just your frustration with their hopes for us?”
Deckard flinched, and his emotion flared, but he took a deep breath, steadying himself before responding. “Can not both reasons be true?” he asked.
“Of course they can,” she said. “But as I can sense your feelings on this topic, I have a strong suspicion that it’s not the case.”
With a sigh, he brought his forehead to hers.
He didn’t bother speaking. Not now, when his emotions did that for him.
His very essence was heavy, weighted down with concern, disappointment, and frustration.
Evylin didn’t know what caused this exact turmoil within him, but she wanted to soothe it away.
She whispered his name, brushing her thumb along his jaw.
“Once, you told me not to worry about the future, to focus on our mission, and then we’d figure it out—together.
Now, I’m telling you to do the same. Think about the Relics.
Think about saving our country. Whatever comes after, we’ll be together. And that’s all that matters.”
Deckard drew her closer. He took solace in her, his mood tempering as she held him.
The soft snorts of sleeping horses and the gentle trickle of the stream echoed in the cavern.
Vayden hummed a low, soothing tune. The cold, damp air pricked their skin.
And Evylin forced herself to believe her own words.
Deckard couldn’t know her doubts; he couldn’t feel that she was as uncertain as he.
She trusted the Calders, but that didn’t make her any happier about the expectations of the Alliance.
Whatever came, yes, they would be together. But that wasn’t all that mattered. And the future wasn’t guaranteed.
Once Deckard and Evylin lay down for the night, she stayed awake in his arms for far longer than usual, wondering: Between Relics and thrones, politics and magic, wars and rebellions, would they have any future at all?