CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Waiting in the Terrae Keep’s antechamber proved equal parts eerie and dull. Evylin hated being confined to the small, narrow hallway. The companionship wasn’t bad, though.
Rafferty kept their spirits lively, while Vayden’s and Isla’s levelheaded conversation was a calming addition.
Evylin enjoyed listening to the stories of their youth.
Vayden had gotten into many dangerous and exciting predicaments during the time he paraded as Blount.
And Isla was an undercover spy in her own right, working for the nobility as an aterian.
“We aterians are essentially glorified bodyguards,” Isla said. “Once we’ve obtained the rank, we are available for hire from each Order. The wealthy are the only ones who can afford us, of course. As we are tied to our Order, they get most of our hire price. However, we are paid an annual sum.”
While Evylin found the hierarchy of Mages and the Calders’ stories interesting, she couldn’t escape the tension of the horrible sensation that she was trapped.
She could sense Deckard on the cliffside directly above her.
Though the distance made it harder to decipher emotions, she could feel that he was mostly at rest. And she was sure he could feel that she was agitated.
When he appeared suddenly in the antechamber that morning, the four of them bolted up, expecting Blount’s arrival. Deckard held his hands up soothingly. Evylin caught a swell of relief and worry from him as his eyes fell on her, then noted his wry smile.
“Blount hasn’t arrived,” he said.
Isla’s brow furrowed. “He’s now a day late.”
Deckard nodded somberly. “It’s worrisome,” he admitted. “I’ve spoken with Brea, and we believe the best plan is to cut our losses here and leave.”
Everyone exchanged skeptical looks.
“What losses?” Rafferty said. “We’ve got the Relic. Now, we’re four and four with dear ol’ prince-Mage. Though I can’t say I’m thrilled about sitting for hours in this green hall for untold hours, what other options do we have? We can’t traipse about the country until we run across Blount’s path.”
“No,” Deckard agreed. “But we can meet with the Alliance.”
Vayden and Isla raised their heads, expressions full of anticipation.
“Minister Molloy does live in Virwoud,” Vayden commented. “We could go visit him, receive an update on Blount’s movements, and make a new plan from there.”
“It beats sitting around for an unknown number of days,” Evylin said. “We can’t let ourselves atrophy. While we waste away on meager rations and little activity, Blount remains at his prime.”
“Our thoughts exactly,” Deckard said. “Brea didn’t mention the name of that minister, but whoever we visit, we should also meet with the Alliance to determine our next step. Whatever happens in the future, Blount didn’t do as we expected. We obtained both Relics, but . . .”
Evylin recognized the prickle of Deckard’s anxiety. “You’re worried he’s done something,” she said.
Deckard met her gaze. “He isn’t here,” he said. “There could have been a delay in his travels. Or it could be something far worse.”
With the ominous thought, their path was agreed upon: They would leave the Keep immediately and find the Alliance.
Blount’s actions continued to be suspect. He’d been one step ahead of them from the start. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, it didn’t bode well for them now.
After gathering, they retrieved their horses from Olbury and left the town.
Evylin was rather disappointed that she hadn’t had the opportunity to explore the settlement more.
It was exactly the sort of place Ryen had longed to visit, so full of life and people and brimming with a sense of adventure.
But she promised herself that, one day, she and Deckard would return.
Perhaps they’d charter a ship and take a journey across the sea, just as Ryen had always longed to.
Though the journey to Whickam Village was better taken as a two-day ride, they pressed hard into the night for the sake of speed.
They arrived in the village well past respectful hours, the ivory and shadow moons still faint in the sky.
A sheepdog barked at their unexpected arrival as they rode through the pastureland.
While Thom, Ethenn, and Rafferty settled the horses, the rest of them hurried to the Glaas residence.
Reluctantly, Deckard rang the bell. Calyn appeared only moments later, peeping out tentatively, then throwing the door wide open when she recognized them. “You’re back!” she exclaimed with excitement. “We weren’t expecting you for another day or two. Where’s Thom?”
Brea snorted while Evylin pressed her lips together. “Caring for the horses,” she told her sister. “Might we come in?”
Calyn backed away, holding the door open for them.
“We’re sorry for the late hour,” Deckard said. “But our mission for the king requires haste.”
“Not to worry,” Calyn said, straightening the lace collar of her floral dress. “Mother has gone up to bed, but I believe Father is in his office. I can pull together a bite to eat if you’re hungry?”
Evylin’s nearly empty stomach grumbled at the thought. “That would be divine, Caly.”
They gathered in the kitchen, where Evylin and Calyn scrounged together a simple meal of cured meats, a variety of cheeses, and some bread. It wouldn’t be quite as filling as a meal, but it would do in the present circumstances.
While they clustered around the kitchen bench, eating and resting after their hard ride, Deckard offered his plan for the next day.
They’d leave early for Virwoud, as Vayden and Isla suggested.
Riding as fast as they could without causing harm to their mounts, it would take them roughly four days to reach the port city.
Once there, they would seek out Minister Molloy—whom they referred to as Mr. Molloy in Calyn’s presence—and hope that he could provide an update from the Alliance—whom they referred to as the king.
The bell rang again, and Calyn disappeared momentarily to open the door for Thom, Ethenn, and Rafferty. The men rushed for the remains of the food, stuffing their faces with nearly as much enthusiasm as Evylin.
“Oh, Corporal Loxley,” Calyn broke in abruptly.
They all turned to her. Ethenn’s thick eyebrows pulled together in confusion, a hunk of bread in one hand and a mouth full of cheese.
“I made a discovery,” Calyn announced. “I knew I recognized your name. Though Evie went to town more often, Doli and I would regularly visit Cousin Nelle when we could. Especially when we were younger. But I was sure I knew the name Loxley, so I went digging through my old things, and wouldn’t you know—I found it! ”
Swallowing, Ethenn stared at her with evident confusion. “Found what?”
“Loxley!” she said proudly. “I’m friends with your sister, Terrina.”
Ethenn flushed, a strange tension to the clench in his jaw.
“Isn’t that wonderful?” Calyn continued, unaware of Ethenn’s discomfort.
“I’d forgotten her maiden name because, well, I called her Rina, and she called me Caly.
But when she got married last year, I was invited to the wedding.
Her husband is so handsome. I about died when I saw him. But it’s so delightful, isn’t it?”
Evylin watched with amusement as Ethenn took in her sister’s overly enthusiastic explanation. His neck grew redder with the blush, and his jaw tensed. “Her marriage?” he asked.
“Well, yes, that too,” Calyn said. “But I mean her pregnancy. You’re going to be an uncle.”
Everyone turned to Ethenn with congratulations, but Evylin caught the hardness in his glare as well as the shock in Ilain’s.
Ethenn took a deep, steadying breath before muttering, “So it seems.”
“What’s more,” Calyn continued, ignorant of the tension growing in the room, “I was reading through Rina’s letters, and I discovered that your mother, Leannah, was the daughter of Harol Pinnette.”
Evylin’s brow rose, recognizing the name. “Pinnette?”
“Yes!” Calyn beamed. “Harol was our grandfather’s nephew. Which means Corporal Loxley’s mother and our mother are second cousins.” She turned to Ethenn with joy. “We’re cousins . . . Or third cousins. I think.”
Evylin and Ethenn turned to stare at one another, mouths agape. They were related. Not closely, but still. They were family, and they’d never known it.
Evylin smiled. “I always knew I liked you,” she teased.
Ethenn blinked, his expression unreadable. “We’re family?”
“Seems that way.”
Brea began to chuckle. “If Ethenn is Evylin’s cousin,” she said, turning to Thom, “that makes him your cousin too.”
“By marriage,” Thom said, a curious lift to his brow. His grin shifted slyly. “Why, Lainy,” he exclaimed then. “That makes you my cousin too!”
Though Ethenn looked ready to protest, Ilain reached across the kitchen bench and slapped the back of Thom’s head.
“Ow,” Thom protested, rubbing the spot.
“So then,” Isla said, “we’re one big happy family. Look what love can do for a band like ours.”
“Excepting the lovely lieutenant and myself, of course,” Rafferty piped up.
“Nonsense,” Brea said. “You’re the brother they never wanted.”
Lighthearted laughter swept through the room, lifting their road-weary hearts.
It’d been too long since they’d laughed together like this.
Too much darkness had crept into their lives.
The loss of Hewitt and Auden. The weight of saving their nations.
The responsibility of recovering the Relics. The fear of fighting Blount.
This laughter, this joy, this reminder of family was what they needed to keep them going.
Evylin took in the room’s occupants with fresh joy. They were family. In their own strange way, admittedly, but in the end, they were all bound together. Granted, Ethenn and Ilain’s betrothal seemed broken, but that didn’t make their bonds as a group any less real.
For the first time in a long time, Evylin felt a rich sensation of peace. With these people by her side, she knew she could face any future.
“I see you’re all back,” Lawton said, appearing in the doorway. His serious gaze swept across the room, and they collectively sobered.
Deckard dipped his head in a slight bow. “Just for one night, sir. We apologize for the inconvenient hour.”
“You’re very welcome here,” he said. “Though I would ask that you contain your gaiety. This is an old house, and the noise carries.”
Evylin and Calyn shared a knowing look at the recurrent lecture.
Lawton raised a hand, an unopened letter in his grasp. “This came while you were gone.”
Deckard took the letter with thanks. Lawton departed then, disappearing down the hall.
“You know, Eve,” Rafferty said. “You’re really nothing like your father.”
“They’re more alike than you’d think,” Deckard said absentmindedly as he opened the missive.
Evylin pursed her lips in disapproval but was too distracted by the unsteady emotions drifting off Deckard to correct him. “What is it?” she asked.
A jolt of panic cut through the air just before Deckard met her gaze.
Evylin’s heart dropped, knowing something dreadful had happened. “Jonn?”
“It’s from Carlile,” Deckard said weakly. He scanned the letter again, then announced, “Blount tricked us.”
The troop jolted up from their relaxed postures, alert and tense. At the side of the room, Calyn watched uncertainly, entirely forgotten by the others.
Deckard held Evylin’s gaze as he explained. “He never went to Carrickbrack. It was a diversion. The reports the Alliance received were false. Blount completely played us. He let us go after the Relics while he returned to Mouroc.”
Evylin frowned, uncertain what gambit the prince had played.
Deckard’s lips twisted ruefully. “He killed his father. He took the Waulden throne, assumed control of their army, and . . .” He paused and glanced at the letter as though wishing its words had changed.
Then he said, “Rouland Blount II, King of Wauld, has marched on Ephria with the entire force of the Waulden Army and every aterian in the country. They aren’t entirely certain of his expected arrival, but even with a force that large, I’d only expect it to take two weeks at most.”
Evylin’s lips parted in shock. Blount hadn’t bothered retrieving the Relics because he knew they’d do it for him. Instead, he took the power he had, murdered his father, and subverted them in the most unexpected way.
“Ephria can’t stand against a force like that,” Evylin said.
Deckard sighed sadly. “That’s not the worst part,” he said.
“After Isla’s betrayal, he suspected there were spies among his people.
Somehow, he found out about the Alliance, and he hunted them down in Wauld.
Carlile says he doesn’t know who lived and who died, but this letter .
. . It was sent a week ago. Everything could have changed by now. ”
While the troop remained silent, taking in the news, Deckard continued, “The Alliance abandoned Mouroc. Carlile was waiting for confirmation to discover which of the ministers and members survived.”
“My grandfather . . .” Brea whispered, and Thom set a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.
Deckard gave her an apologetic look. “Last they knew, Blount was marching toward Ephria City to overthrow King Ephren.”
Calyn gasped, stepping up to Evylin’s side, reminding her of her sister’s presence. Calyn’s hand slipped into hers, and Evylin squeezed to reassure her sister.
“Blount has issued a charge to the Alliance,” Deckard concluded. “He has hostages. He demands that we give him the Relics, or he’ll kill every last one of them.”
“He’ll kill them anyway,” Isla said.
Deckard dipped his chin, a subtle admission that he suspected as much.
The chaos of expectant silence pressed into the room. Troop member after troop member exchanged looks, each of them on the verge of speech. Yet, they all held their tongues, turning to Deckard for answers.
“What do we do?” Evylin asked.
After a long, strained pause, Deckard drew back his shoulders and said, “We’re going to Loclight. And we’re stopping Blount for good.”