CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
A dull ache woke Evylin as she opened her eyes to darkness. The emergence from unconsciousness clouded her thoughts. She couldn’t remember why her head hurt or why the room was so dark. Thin beams of light streamed in through the shutters, and she squinted to make out the shadowed space.
Then her mind cleared. She and Auden had been taken.
Evylin’s pulse raced into her ears, her breathing growing staggered. She tried to gasp but only wound up choking on the rag used to gag her. Instinctively, she jerked her hands up to remove the cloth, but they stopped short, ropes digging into her wrists.
With an annoyed groan, Evylin struggled with the ropes. Tears formed at the edges of her eyes as the bonds ripped at her skin. This was her fault. She should have seen those posters the moment they entered the village center. They could have returned to camp, avoiding this whole disaster.
But then, she shouldn’t have been in the village in the first place. If she hadn’t insisted, if she could have just managed her sorrow, then they wouldn’t be in this mess.
Evylin writhed against the ropes, the tears falling freely now. Where was she? Had those sellswords taken them from Dunneshead while she was unconscious? She didn’t know how long she’d been out. No more than a few hours, surely. But where could they have taken her within that time?
Closing her eyes again, Evylin succumbed to her fear for only a moment. The room was cold, the floorboards hard against her hips and shoulders. She rested her head, angled uncomfortably to the side.
If only she had allowed Deckard to go with Auden. If only she had been strong enough to deal with her grief.
But, Evylin realized, if Deckard had joined Auden, then it would be the two of them in this predicament instead.
The sellsword, Nev, recognized Auden, not her.
Deckard’s presence would have done nothing to stop that, which meant that he would have been taken with Auden.
More than a dozen men had attacked them.
With the element of surprise on their side and the shock of the writ to impede their reactions, even Evylin hadn’t been able to protect herself against the attack.
Evylin pulled in a deep breath, accepting her situation. If the choice was between losing Deckard or her, this was the best outcome. Deckard had more to offer their troop, both as a Mage and a leader. Moreover, he had a future, with or without her.
And Evylin . . . she had nothing. No more dreams, no uncle she adored, no hope. And if Deckard were lost, too, she would have nothing to live for at all.
The devastating thought threatened to overcome Evylin. She wanted to give in to the tears and wallow in her agony. She was tired of fighting this losing battle against drowning in her grief. Giving in would be so much easier.
With another stuttering breath, Evylin ground her teeth against the gag. She pushed the thoughts away. She began to work her hands in their bonds again, refusing to entertain such defeatist notions. She was a Warrior. She was Hewitt’s niece. If anyone could get out of this situation, it was her.
Auden was captured somewhere too. He needed her. Though she’d failed to protect him before, she still had a chance to redeem herself. She would find her way out of these bonds and then free them both.
The fibers of the ropes cut into her wrists.
The room was too dark for her to see anything beyond shadows and shapes.
Evylin focused on breathing through her nose, steadying her heartbeat.
A soothing calm washed over her, and clarity cooled her mind.
The magic within her rose to her aid, heightening her senses.
Listening intently, Evylin heard the softest thump of a heartbeat in the room with her, and two more beating even more quietly on the other side of the door.
Evylin turned her head, catching the rough outline of a figure, prone on the floor just out of her reach.
Her vision sharpened enough for the small beams of light to clarify the figure.
It was Auden, his breathing shallow but steady.
He lay on his side as well, absolutely still.
Unconscious either by his body’s design or their captors.
Pleased they’d kept the two of them together, Evylin scanned the rest of the room. Motes of dust danced in the thin rays. The room was small, square, and mostly empty. A few crates clustered the corners and lined the walls, everything kept well away from the captives. A supply room, she surmised.
Finding nothing of use, Evylin turned her attention back to her ropes.
A short length from her hands led to her waist, and another segment extended to her feet.
Contorting her wrists to grab the rope, she tried to pull her feet closer.
No matter how she twisted, she couldn’t get them near enough to work on the knot binding her ankles.
She diverted her attempts and angled to reach up for her gag.
The rope between her wrists and waist was too short, and she couldn’t dip her head low enough.
Frustrated and sore, Evylin flopped back onto the floor.
There would be no way for her to untie herself in this position.
She could already feel the missing weight of the blades on her person.
They’d searched her thoroughly. Her skin crawled at the thought, but she focused on the task at hand.
If she couldn’t remove her constraints, she’d have to wait until they did.
Then she’d take the opportunity for all it was worth.
Voices echoed outside the room, drawing Evylin’s attention to the door. Footsteps approached. Men spoke. Then the door opened. A group of men filtered into the room, their bulky shapes and jangling sounds marking them all as heavily armed.
Weapons weren’t supposed to be allowed in Wauld. Unless these men were friendly with the guard. . . .
One man broke from the group and headed for the far window. He opened the panes and shutters. Though the sky was still a dull, cloudy gray, the sudden brightness flared in Evylin’s magically enhanced vision. She squinted, willing her sight to adjust.
The man turned around, a halo of light glinting off his blond head. “My apologies for the disappointing view,” Nev said in his friendly tone. “We haven’t had a sunny day in months.”
Evylin scanned the room a second time in the daylight.
The five men who came with Nev, along with the two guarding the door, were all clearly Waulden as well.
Angular features, tall and narrow frames, and light skin, hair, and eyes.
Most of them appeared to be sellswords, too, but a couple wore the gold and purple patch of the guard on their coats.
So that was how they were allowed weapons.
It appeared corruption was rife in Wauld.
With stock taken of her captors, Evylin turned to check on Auden. At the sight of him, she let out an involuntary gasp, choking on her gag again.
“We drugged him,” Nev said upon her reaction. “Without a Mage to dampen his powers, we mercs have to take what help we can get.”
Evylin couldn’t take her eyes from Auden’s. He was bound in the same fashion as her—a variation of how one might tie a hog—but he wasn’t as unconscious as she’d thought. Or, at least, he didn’t appear to be.
A splotch of dried blood coated the side of his face, a stream of it crusted on an eyelid as well as his lashes.
Two drying patches of blood marred his leg and shoulder, presumably where one of the bowmen had struck him, the arrows now removed.
Worse, his dark green eyes were open, wide and glassy.
Alert but unfocused. His muscles were rigid, and veins protruded fiercely from his neck and temples.
Working to remain calm, Evylin wondered what horrible drug could put a Mage into such a state. Then she questioned why she hadn’t been drugged as well. An oversight, she thought, if these men considered her less dangerous than Auden.
Nev dropped down in front of her, resting on his haunches. “You’re not a Mage, though, are you?” he said, studying her with interest. “The writ named him and his sister as Mages, but it said you were just an accomplice. So tell me—”
He reached out to grab her arm and pull her up to a seated position. Evylin grunted as the ropes tore into her skin with the motion.
Nev brushed some of her sweat-and-tear-matted hair off her face. “What’s a pretty Ephrian girl like you doing with two villainous Mages like them?”
Evylin glared at him but didn’t pull away as he slid two fingers across her temple and down her cheek.
Despite his unscrupulous job and the actions of his men, he hadn’t treated her cruelly.
She had no reason to suspect he was going to hurt her—not yet.
And Hewitt taught her to be cunning in dangerous situations.
Rash behavior would garner no favors from her captor nor aid in her escape.
Nev tucked his fingers under the edge of the gag and pulled it free. His light hazel eyes watched her carefully as the rag slipped out of her mouth, dropping around her neck. He smiled winsomely. “I’m curious,” he said.
Evylin swallowed. Her tongue felt thick as she swept it across her dry lips. Nev wasn’t altogether unattractive, and he was personable enough to be charming. If she played this right, she might be able to earn his favor. Or perhaps learn some information.
Cautiously, Evylin studied him as though unsure of his intentions, hoping he’d buy her innocent act. “If I tell you,” she said, “will you answer a question for me?”
Nev chuckled, his men exchanging looks behind him. He settled his arms on his knees. “You’re not really in a position to negotiate, dearie.”
Though he was right, she didn’t see any reason not to try. “I’m not sure I’d say that,” she replied with feigned nervousness. “I may be your captive, but there’s no reason for me to answer your questions without something in return. Not when I have nothing to lose.”