CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT #3
The Calders, however, were placed in much finer garb. They were dressed like royalty with elaborate embellishments that created a clear distinction between soldiers and Mages. Evylin assumed it was a deliberate choice on Carlile’s part.
Auden wore a long, burgundy coat with a capelet embroidered with golden leaves and flourishes and a yellow topaz brooch clasped beneath the high collar.
With his clean-shaven jaw and slicked-back copper locks, he looked like a prince from one of the tales of old.
Or perhaps more correctly, one of the Mages who’d ruled Auld two centuries ago.
Ilain was even more striking. Carlile had chosen to put her in an ivory gown of gauzy fabrics.
The massive skirt floated around her hips and legs, though the bodice hugged her torso tighter than Ephrian society would often deem appropriate.
Small appliqués of flowers in pastel pinks, yellows, and blues covered the low-dipping bodice.
Its straps hung off her shoulders, baring her shoulders and décolletage with impunity.
She wore her fiery red hair pinned back to display the dress even more effectively.
Evylin wondered at the bodice’s rigid construction, and Ilain mentioned something about boning, which kept its shape. “It’s nearly impossible to breathe, but at least I look splendid,” the highlady proclaimed.
Ethenn stood to the side, pointedly avoiding looking at his wife.
When Deckard returned downstairs, freshly dressed in his regalia, Evylin smiled brightly. “Look at you.” She greeted him at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s like stepping back in time.”
“You mean back to when we first met the king?” Deckard asked, brushing down the front of his coat.
His right hand looked odd without the moonstone ring.
They’d decided to leave behind the tokens of their Bond, leaving her dagger and his ring in their room.
Though they’d proven that the objects would return to their side at a moment’s thought, they lingered so long as the couple willed it.
“I must say,” he continued, “I don’t believe I’m any less nervous this time. ”
Evylin chuckled, adjusting the braid on his right shoulder.
They were mostly alone in the parlor as the rest of the men were preparing in the rooms upstairs.
Vayden, Isla, and Brea were whipping together their own meals in the kitchen while Ilain and Ethenn sat in the dining room, sipping tea and talking in hushed tones.
Looking up at Deckard’s clean-cut appearance, Evylin narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m trying to decide,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Decide on what?”
“On which way I like you better.” She raised her brow in appraisal. “As an officer, clean-cut and trimmed. Or as a Mage, wild with curls and an unruly beard.”
Deckard scoffed out a laugh. “Why would you ever prefer me unruly?”
She fixed him with a flirtatious smirk. “It is awfully masculine,” she noted. “And mysterious. Which is a particularly potent combination.”
He huffed even as she draped her arms around his neck.
“However,” she continued, “I did fall in love with you when you were an officer. And that . . .” She scanned his face fondly.
“I think that’s the real you. It may not be so fearsome, but it is quite attractive—and refined and caring. Just like you.”
A gentle wash of joy swept through the air, and Deckard dipped his head. “You’re too kind,” he whispered, his lips a breath away from hers.
Their lips didn’t quite meet before footsteps pounded on the stairs, and Thom’s call for Deckard reverberated down to them.
Deckard pursed his lips in agitation at the second interrupted kiss of the day while Evylin pulled away, amused.
Thom appeared on the staircase behind his brother, eyes fixed on the breast of his coat. “I can’t figure out how to put this bloody thing on,” he lamented, struggling with his captain’s insignia.
“Give it here,” Deckard said, then turned to help him affix the silver metal pin to his coat.
Evylin took a seat on the sofa, surveying them with amusement. “You’ve been a soldier for how long, and you don’t know how to apply your insignia?” she teased.
“It’s different once you become a captain,” Thom defended. “They switch from patches already attached to the coats to these—” He waved a hand at the metal pin. “Things.”
“They are somewhat intricate,” Deckard said, fastening the last clip. “There. I’ll teach you properly when we have more time.”
“Thanks,” Thom said, and then a knock came on the front door. “Sounds like our ride is here. I’ll get the others.”
While Ilain and Ethenn rose from the table, Thom bounded back up the stairs, calling for Rafferty and Auden.
Deckard turned to Evylin, his happy air blurred into a tangled flurry of concern. “Are you ready?” he asked, his demeanor tense and constrained.
Evylin watched him cautiously for only a moment. Whatever was causing his concern, she wouldn’t let him wallow. Not when they were headed into a dinner where confidence would count.
She slipped her hand around Deckard’s arm, tugging him close. “We’re about to dine with the king we’re working to overthrow,” she remarked dryly. “This is what I live for.”