CHAPTER SIX #3
The women fell silent when the troop broke out of the forest and onto the muddy road.
Though they waited until no one was around to emerge from the trees, they couldn’t risk any travelers hearing them.
Careful to disguise their steps in the mud, Deckard, Auden, and Thom took the lead with Evylin and Ilain behind them.
Rafferty and Ethenn followed closely, careful to step in the women’s tracks.
The road squished unpleasantly beneath their boots, squelching as they walked.
Their weapons rattled with their gait, disguising the sound of Evylin’s.
She reached out to tug on Deckard’s cloak every few dozen feet.
Each time, his shoulders eased downward as though being reminded of her presence soothed him.
Without Ilain’s banter to distract her, Evylin chewed on her lip, the subtle reminder of her grief pressing against the magic that held it at bay.
Over the past three days, she’d wondered if it was wrong to let go of her pain.
She’d noticed the shock on Deckard’s face when she offered to warm his hands.
She could feel his lingering surprise at her continued comfort with him.
She knew it wasn’t natural, and she knew that if she took off the Relic, she wouldn’t feel the same sense of contentment.
But did that make it wrong to harbor the Relic and embrace this relief?
For the first time in nearly two weeks, Evylin could breathe.
She felt alive again. She could laugh and enjoy the company of her friends.
She could train and spar without the memories of her uncle plaguing her.
She could be near Deckard, touching him and, yes, flirting with him, without feeling guilty or afraid. And she didn’t want to lose that.
No, it wasn’t real. But she didn’t think she cared.
The giant stone wall loomed in the distance, the clouds growing darker overhead. A crowd of people stood between them and the gate. Guards patrolled the sides, keeping people orderly and in line. The travelers shifted impatiently, grumbling about the long wait.
“Are there usually so many people going in and out of the Reaches?” Deckard asked Auden in a low voice.
“They’re mostly merchants and businessmen,” Auden explained. “Some might be scholars as well. I’d imagine it only looks to be such a large number due to the thorough searches they’re doing.”
“Do you think it’s a cavity search?” Rafferty mumbled to Ethenn in the back, and Evylin heard a muted thump just before the weasel squealed. She pressed her lips together to hold in her laughter.
Between the combined magic of Ilain and the Relics, magic thrummed through Evylin.
She felt good, despite the steady drain on her power.
The Fire magic suggested foolhardy action to her brain.
Why didn’t they just rush through the gate before any guards could notice?
But the Day Relic’s magic soothed her racing heartbeat, reminding her that such a course would put them at too great a risk.
Hand growing clammy in Ilain’s, she adjusted her fingers.
The woman tightened her grip, drawing Evylin’s attention.
Beneath her large hood, Ilain kept her chin tucked and her eyes tightly closed.
The signs of fatigue worried Evylin. They were still far back in the line, and at the rate the guards were passing travelers through, it could be another half hour at the least.
Suddenly, a patrolling guard called over to them. Evylin could see that she and Ilain’s figures still bore their hazy edges, marking their shroud. But while the troop turned to the guard, the highlady stayed frozen, concentrating.
“You lot,” the guard said on his approach. He waved between Rafferty and Deckard. “Tighten up. This ain’t some gallery. We’ve got dozens more waiting behind you.”
Realizing that the gap between their rows looked grandly broad to outsiders, Evylin gently guided Ilain forward. Rafferty and Ethenn had stayed back to give the two of them space. But that left enough room for two people between the men.
What was more disconcerting was the heavy drizzle. It wouldn’t be noticeable from a distance, but if the guard came any closer, he might see how the rain bowed around the women’s figures.
Moving forward, Evylin pulled Ilain closer to her side. To make the space between the men look natural, they had to stand almost completely flush against the three men in the front. And even then, Ethenn and Rafferty brushed against the women’s backs.
“Sorry,” Ethenn murmured at Ilain’s sharp inhale when he pressed into her.
Thankfully, the guard hadn’t heard their exchange. He nodded, satisfied with his job completed, and moved on.
Practically flush against Deckard’s back, Evylin kept a wary eye on Ilain. The muscles in her face had relaxed slightly, and she leaned into Evylin. “I’m all right,” she whispered so quietly that Evylin was sure she’d only heard it because of her Warrior senses.
Magic seemed to float through the air around them now.
Evylin felt her skin tingling and her mind cooling.
The Relics tugged at her, urging her to use them.
To sprint across the field and through the gate.
She could take down a few guards if she needed to.
How good it would feel to fight, her body alight with power.
Fighting was like a dance for her—a beautiful, intoxicating release of energy.
Hand pressed upon the damp wool of Deckard’s cloak, Evylin flexed her fingers against his back.
She remembered what it was like to dance with him.
They’d danced together twice: once after they rescued Prince Ephren and then again at the king’s ball.
Both times she’d felt alive, just like in a fight. Just like when he kissed her.
Deckard stretched his shoulders, his back pressing more firmly into her touch.
She couldn’t help smiling. Whether he was surprised by her renewed comfort with him or not, she knew he liked it.
And she thought that was probably why he hadn’t said anything to her about it yet.
He was afraid that if he mentioned her strange behavior, it would stop.
When they paused briefly, Evylin rested her forehead against his back.
It wouldn’t stop so long as she had the Day Relic.
With the restorative joy it gave, the fear of losing him seemed but a memory.
She could be happy with him, letting their affection grow into a true love.
And she needn’t worry about facing the same devastation of Hewitt and Ryen’s loss again.
At an achingly slow pace, they made it to the gate. Ilain’s grip had grown almost painful around Evylin’s hand, but she refused to let go of the woman. The feeling would return to her fingers once they got through that gate.
The ironwork portcullis hung halfway up the stone walls.
Should anyone make a break for it, the gate could be released to halt their progress with plenty of time.
Evylin counted twenty-nine guards before losing track of which men she’d already tallied.
They all looked similar: pale skin, angular features, and narrow frames.
Their uniforms were reminiscent of the Ephrian Army’s, but with black boots, trousers, and dark purple coats.
Their insignias also differed, featuring a fearsome hound with bloodred eyes above their rank.
The symbol of King Blount, she supposed.
A captain stepped forward, requesting their endorsement with a bored tone.
Auden handed over the paper to him. A thick wax insignia sealed the bottom.
Evylin wondered what nobility the Alliance had managed to ally with here in Wauld.
She knew noblemen in Ephria who worked with the organization, like Lord Tybaalt, who’d kidnapped the prince near Banbury.
But she struggled to believe that many of Blount’s gentry supported their own usurpation.
“Looks like everything’s in order,” the captain said, then gestured for his men to come forward. He returned the paper to Auden. “By the king’s decree, we’re to search every individual who enters the kingdom. With your cooperation, we won’t detain you long.”
“Of course,” Auden replied, tucking the endorsement back into his pouch. He turned to Deckard. “Let them search the men.”
Taking on their roles of hired arms, Deckard, Thom, Rafferty, and Ethenn followed orders.
Evylin carefully guided Ilain out of the men’s way, grateful for the cover of the walls shielding them from the rain’s reach.
The guards immediately requested that the men remove their cloaks for an easier search.
Each man was unceremoniously patted down, their weapons examined, and their packs searched.
Ilain began to slump against Evylin. “I’m tired,” she whispered. Then her head lolled forward.
A flash of panic coursed through Evylin. She tightened her grip on the highlady. “Hold on just a little longer.”
There was no sign that Ilain heard her.
Though their forms retained the subtle haze marking the shroud, Evylin looked at Deckard. She needed to warn him. Though what did she expect any of the men to do? They couldn’t get the guards to speed up their search. And Ilain was growing slack with fatigue.
Evylin had to get her out of there immediately.
Scanning the gate and guards, Evylin saw a narrow path clearing as some guards stepped aside. Ilain began to shake weakly. With no other options, Evylin wound her arm around the highlady’s waist and took her chance.