CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Thick, gray fog obscured the skies. The village of Dunneshead was a haze of buildings in the distance.
Evylin and Auden rode casually down the road, hoods up.
The softest misting of rain filled the air, less of a nuisance than usual.
But that might have had to do with the growing lightness of Evylin’s heart.
The tension had eased with each clomp of the horses’ hooves, as though the greater the distance from Deckard, the calmer she grew.
By the time they neared the village, she found herself smiling, taking in the world around her with interest. Rodents skittered from tree to tree, rustling the leaves, which tossed a spray of droplets into the air.
The gentle crooning of mourning doves rang above their heads.
Evylin turned to Auden, his usually stoic demeanor in place as expected. Without his student around, he hadn’t bothered to strike up a conversation. But with her improved mood, Evylin decided to engage his company.
“The last time we went on a mission, just the two of us,” she said playfully, “things didn’t quite go as planned.”
Auden glanced at her, coppery eyebrows raised. “Nor were the circumstances quite as favorable. Though I’d say entering a settlement in enemy territory isn’t the most promising situation either.”
Evylin shifted with her horse as she guided it around a large depression in the road. “True, but I’d take it over facing a maniacal prince any day.”
“As would I,” Auden agreed pleasantly.
They lapsed into silence once more. Evylin furrowed her brow, trying to figure out what to say.
She realized that it was surprisingly difficult to talk with the highlord.
In their travels with the Calders, she’d only been alone with Auden once, and conversation hadn’t exactly been a priority while fighting for their lives in the Water Keep.
Thinking up something engaging to discuss was harder than she anticipated.
Evylin considered what she knew about the Mage.
She hadn’t learned much, aside from his academic and straitlaced conduct.
He was nearly as prudish as Deckard, though his conservative leanings seemed borne of personality and indifference rather than religious or moral sentiments.
This reserved manner of his made him difficult for Evylin to understand, and as he didn’t show interest in pursuing more than a working relationship with any of the Ephrians, she had never thought to befriend him.
Grimacing internally, Evylin wondered if this trip into Dunneshead was destined to be as dull as a day on the road.
She hadn’t considered that when she’d asked to accompany him.
And while the novelty and distance from Deckard would be a boon, she couldn’t help being disappointed with the excursion’s projected experience.
In the taciturn air between them, Evylin considered how she could goad him into entertaining conversation.
She didn’t want to discuss magic since she was uninterested in thinking about Deckard or encouraging Auden to bring up Bonding.
Though she would like to learn about Warriors, she doubted that he knew any more than Ilain.
And as that was the sole extent of her understanding of his interests, she was at a loss.
As the last topic of discussion, Evylin’s thoughts reverted to their time in the Water Keep. Her throat tightened as the memories of falling into the water threatened. She pushed them down instantly and latched onto the one subject she could think of.
“Had you ever met Blount?” she asked suddenly. “Before the Keep, I mean.”
Auden turned to her, emerald eyes wide. “No. Despite our position as Mages, Ilain and I aren’t nobility. And with the king’s paranoia, he rarely invites our kind into his company.”
“But you knew him,” Evylin said. “The second you saw his face, you knew who he was.”
With a slow nod, Auden admitted, “I did.”
Evylin frowned. Despite being the crown prince, if the Calders hadn’t been even indirectly in his company, it was unlikely they’d ever have the chance to see him. Ephria’s crown prince, Caspar, had been wholly unknown to Evylin until their meeting in Banbury. Why should Wauld’s be any more common?
“Is his likeness that well-known?” she asked.
Auden adjusted uncomfortably on his horse. “Not particularly. But in the Alliance, they’ve ensured we all know the greatest threats to our success. Although we were unaware of his immediate plans, we were aware of his interest in the Relics. And as heir to the throne, he was our natural enemy.”
“Oh.” Evylin couldn’t help being disappointed in the mundane answer. She supposed it was smart for the Alliance to pass around sketches of their enemies. Knowing of Blount might have prepared her better for his cruelty in the Keep.
The reminder caused Evylin to frown again.
Her jaw, where he’d kicked her, ached with the memory.
His villainy had astonished her. Though Evylin had read of evil men and women in her novels, she’d never actually met one until Blount.
She hadn’t known a person could be so vile.
Her skin crawled as she remembered the pleasure he’d taken in torturing Auden with Night magic.
Her heart stuttered, thinking of how flippantly he’d pronounced Auden’s death.
Evylin found herself frowning again. “‘Kill him,’” she murmured Blount’s last order aloud.
“What?” Auden said tensely.
Evylin met his narrowed gaze. “‘Kill him,’ he said,” she repeated. “Why not ‘kill them’?”
Auden’s expression pinched as she continued with new understanding. “What did he want with me?” she asked.
Auden sucked in a deep breath. His eyes flickered to the nearing settlement. They were only moments away from the village, and this wasn’t a conversation to be had among adversaries.
He slowed his horse, lowering his voice to say, “You’re a Warrior, Evylin. A female Warrior.”
An icy sensation scraped along her scalp.
Auden gave her an apologetically direct look.
“Warriors are rare enough,” he said darkly.
“Being a woman makes you even more special, the discovery of a lifetime for Blount. Something he probably never expected to find. Regardless of your allegiance, he would have undoubtedly forced you to Bond with him.”
“I would have refused,” she insisted.
“Would you?” he asked. “Even after decades of torture?”
Evylin had no answer to that.
“Or perhaps he would have tried another approach,” he offered. “Perhaps he would have attempted to woo you, earning your trust, knowing that once you Bonded, he’d regret whatever evil he’d done to you because he’d grow to love you.”
“He’s a sadist,” she spat. “He couldn’t love anyone.”
Auden’s expression turned sorrowful. “Everyone loves someone, even the most vile of creatures.”
In her quiet discomfort, Auden continued, “Don’t underestimate the power of magic, Evylin. No matter what he did or would ever do, if he succeeded—if Blount managed to Bond with you—you would come to love him. And whatever cruelty he enacted to make you his, you’d forgive him for it.”
Evylin’s whole being squirmed. She felt violated at the very thought. If magic could make her forgive such heinous acts, if it could unite her to such a depraved man, she swore she’d kill herself before he ever got the chance to Bond with her.
Neither of them said anything more, riding up to the edge of Dunneshead.
The village’s gray stone buildings had black slate roofs.
Everything was dull and murky like the sky above them.
Though slightly larger than Whickam Village, the homes and businesses were more densely packed in the sloping valley.
A massive, lazy river skirted the village, almost encircling it.
Officious guards patrolled the uneven dirt streets; their severe gazes fastened to Evylin and Auden as they rode past. Due to the prohibition on weaponry in Wauld, she’d left all but a few hidden daggers behind. She felt naked under the guards’ intense glares.
The village was sleepy, with few citizens moving through the main thoroughfares. Evylin wondered if the emptiness was due to the presence of the guards or the poor weather. Or perhaps there just weren’t enough people to populate the settlement well.
In the main square of the village, Evylin and Auden dismounted, tying their horses to the post. They scanned the square, readily finding the smith at the far corner to ask for directions to purchase tents.
Auden dropped his hood once they were under the awning of the smithy, but Evylin kept hers up to hide her Ephrian features.
The smith spoke in some strange dialect that Evylin couldn’t begin to understand, and she was suddenly grateful that she’d promised not to say a word on their trip.
“Yes, I understand,” Auden replied, evidently able to translate the smith’s garbled words into something resembling sense. “But my boss, he wouldn’t understand.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “He’s not the most reputable man, aye?”
Evylin watched with interest as the smith’s eyes twinkled. He rattled off some more words, his fingers twitching at his side.
With a deft hand, Auden slipped the man some coins. “I’d be greatly appreciative,” he said.
The smith grunted, scanned Evylin—heavily shrouded in her cloak—and turned to forage through his shop.
Evylin shifted closer to Auden. “What was that about?” she asked.
“We’re in a village,” he replied. “There are no merchants who sell tents. So he’s going to do us a favor for a few extra silvers on the side.”
“On the side?”
“Off his tax books,” he said. “While he can’t provide all the materials for us, he has the supplies we need for frames, and his friend at the docks has the canvas and rope we need for the shelter-halfs themselves. He’ll give us the frames and a note for his friend, and we’ll head to the docks.”
“Ah.” Evylin nodded. She began to shift away when a stranger ducked under the smith’s awning.
“Pard’n,” he said to her in a thick Waulden accent.