CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
The Alliance spent the next two weeks preparing for the coronation of the Allundan oligarchy.
While Deckard and Evylin were brought up to speed on the finer points of Allund’s structure and administration through various meetings, the ministers worked to find suitable replacements for Ethenn and Ilain.
As the Loxleys had effectively abdicated, they moved into the Loclight suites, along with Vayden and Reyana, granting their troop time to be together again.
Though Deckard and Evylin were often busy during the days, they spent the evenings with their friends, and he could feel how grateful she was for that.
They would still have to part from the Loxleys and Calders before long, but they wouldn’t be as far as West Allund.
And when they discovered the cure, they hoped to join the rest in Loclight.
During their meetings, Deckard and Evylin also met with the other chancellors and commanders.
During their mission to retrieve the Relics, they’d met the Night Mage, Grey Trumane, in Mouroc, but this was their first chance to meet Alma, his Warrior bride.
They were a unique pair; Grey displayed a bright, dry sense of humor, while Alma reminded Deckard of a female version of Hewitt, her manner gruff and no-nonsense. Evylin liked her tremendously.
When Deckard met the other Bonded couples, he assessed their character with thoughtful care. These were the individuals set to take on leadership roles in their country. He was desperate to ensure they were capable and pleasant. He was relieved to find that, overall, they fit the bill.
Once all preparations had been finalized for the coronation, the date was set, and the ministers granted the troop a three-day leave to recuperate and unwind.
These were to be their final days in each other’s company for a considerable duration.
After the coronation, their lives would set out on different paths.
With the future they’d worked for closer than ever, a sense of unease settled in Deckard’s stomach; he still didn’t feel ready for the responsibility he was about to assume.
However, he knew that with Evylin and Thom beside him, he couldn’t fail. They wouldn’t let him.
On the night before the coronation, the troop gathered in the parlor.
Sitting in the Loclight apartments wasn’t quite like the old times around the campfire.
So much had changed, yet the same laughter and companionship prevailed.
They missed Hewitt, Auden, Rafferty, and Isla but were joined by Calyn and Cris—who were officially courting, as he had received a letter of permission from Magistrate Glaas only the previous day—and Reyana, who often spent her time with her father or Brea.
Only a day after meeting with the ministers, Thom and Brea had married.
They didn’t want to wait, opting for a small ceremony with only the troop as witnesses.
Although Deckard still wasn’t thrilled about the discrepancies in their age and magic, he was genuinely happy for his brother.
Thom had grown significantly as a man over the past year.
Deckard attributed this growth largely to Brea’s influence.
She had a way of bringing out the best in Thom and pushing him in ways no one else seemed able to accomplish.
In Deckard’s eyes, Brea was surprisingly companionable.
As she was to be their head of the guard, she had already begun working closely with Deckard and Evylin to plan how they would run Loclight.
The more time Deckard spent with Brea, the better they got along.
He found her levelheadedness and candid manner refreshing and often sought her advice on difficult decisions.
With their time together in Aulton, Deckard was able to see that the rest of their friends had grown as well.
Over the last nearly two months of marriage, Ethenn and Ilain had become a synchronous team.
They worked well alongside each other, tempering their more intense traits while encouraging their more subdued ones.
The young hunter had become confident and caring, and the highlady was attentive and knowledgeable.
Although Deckard felt they would have made admirable rulers, he was proud of them for choosing to seek a cure for the Deep.
He considered it a noble pursuit befitting them both.
Even Vayden wore a steadier smile than he had in quite some time.
Isla’s death still seemed to haunt him, but over the last two weeks, he had spoken with Deckard and Thom about his plans for the future.
Although he didn’t regret the effort he and Isla had put into the Alliance, knowing it had secured the fate of the country they dreamed of for their daughter, he mourned the years lost with his wife.
While he would work to help Ethenn and Ilain find the cure, he was determined to dedicate the rest of his life to cherishing his time with Reyana.
The teenage girl was healing from her own grief, but she was coping better than Deckard had expected.
Vayden attributed this to the influence of his parents.
“Admittedly,” he said, “my mother was more present in Rey’s life than Isla. Reyana loved her mother, but . . . She didn’t know her well. That was a choice Isla made, and it is a choice we’ll have to live with.”
It was a brutal yet honest truth. Deckard prayed he would never have to make such a choice regarding his children.
Deckard and Evylin, too, had undergone significant changes since their journey began.
Almost a year ago, when Deckard arrived in the quaint Whickam Village, he had no idea he was on the verge of a life-altering introduction.
Upon entering that dining room, he’d encountered the most notable woman in existence—the extraordinary, resilient, and adventurous individual who, by some stroke of Allore’s will, became his wife.
What began as a mutually beneficial arrangement evolved into what Deckard could only describe as a magical union. Or perhaps, better stated, the divine influence of Allore’s power flowing through their veins.
Regardless of its origins, the undeniable connection between Deckard and Evylin was something that neither could articulate. And he didn’t often desire to attempt to do so.
He was simply content to love the woman who had changed his life forever.
Too soon, their leave expired, and the day of coronation arrived.
Following a late night spent in the company of their friends, Deckard and Evylin enjoyed a prolonged morning in bed.
Mrs. Wilumson finally roused them by persistently knocking on their door until they awoke.
Almost immediately, she directed Deckard out of the room to allow the servants to prepare them for the coronation.
“We are married, Mrs. Wilumson,” Evylin said, laughing as the older woman nearly pushed Deckard out the door. “There’s no reason Jonn and I can’t dress in the same room.”
“This is a special occasion, dear,” Mrs. Wilumson argued. “You’ll both thank me later.”
With that, the door closed in Deckard’s face.
A servant instructed him to follow to the next room.
Over an hour later, Deckard appeared in an all-black uniform adorned with fine fabrics and intricate golden embroidery that made him feel both regal and confined, like a bird in a gilded cage.
He was requested to bear the Relic and to leave it hanging to glitter over his coat.
The servant clarified that each Mage and Warrior involved in the ceremony had received specific outfits tailored to their resource and province.
Deckard contemplated that Loclight, as the site of the Order of the Heavens, would present a somewhat somber image, considering the dark attire they were obliged to don.
At least, that was his thought until Evylin graced him with her presence in the foyer.
He had regarded her as spectacular on numerous occasions in the past; however, she now represented a truly royal transformation.
The lustrous silk of her obsidian gown billowed around her like a crystalline shadow, with only the bodice tailored to her figure, covered in shining silver beads like stars, while the skirt and cape-like sleeves flowed elegantly around her.
The servants had styled her hair in an elegant bun, keeping the off-the-shoulder neckline exposed.
She’d donned her usual rosette necklace, and the moonstone dagger was secured at her waist. Her silver and onyx earrings glimmered in the light, and her dimples revealed her amusement as he gazed upon her.
“That’s quite the expression you’re wearing,” she teased, standing before him.
Deckard took her hands but spoke to Mrs. Wilumson instead. “My apologies, ma’am,” he said. “You were right. This is a wonderful surprise.”
“You look quite dashing yourself,” Evylin said, straightening his already perfectly straight cravat. “Such kingly attire! A crown will suit you quite nicely.”
That caused Deckard to frown. “We don’t have to wear crowns, do we?”
Brea entered, wearing a black gown, which had a distinctly militaristic flair. “Of course not,” she replied, flashing him a knowing smile. “Crowns are unnecessary and ostentatious.”
“Thank Allore.”
Brea continued as if he hadn’t replied. “You will wear an insignia befitting your station, however.”
Deckard, both intrigued and concerned, arched his brow at her. “I take it I’ll get jewelry, and Evylin will receive a weapon.”
The women laughed, but Brea neither confirmed nor denied the assumption.
Thom, Calyn, Ethenn, Ilain, Vayden, and Reyana all arrived in the parlor shortly, each dressed in black.
Deckard scanned their friends. He thought to ask why they’d wear the color of Space as well, but he realized the significance readily: This was their means of showing their support and allegiance to Deckard and Evylin.