CHAPTER THIRTY
Terror gripped Evylin as they raced through the dark forests of Wauld.
Her hands shook, and her heart pounded. The sweat that trailed down her chest and arms stung in the cold, foggy morning.
The burning cuts from the Wind magic wept thin lines of blood along her temple and cheeks before they dried to crusty patches.
Hours passed, the edges of the sky lightening to a soft gray bleeding through with rusty brown and crimson.
Breathless, exhausted, and driven by fear, the team pressed on until they couldn’t ride any longer. With Ilain still unconscious and the horses overworked from their sprint through the night, they stopped a mere handful of miles from the Reach. Ethenn scouted ahead, finding a safe place to camp.
Huffing and hanging their heads, the horses came to a grateful stop deep in the woods.
However, the adrenaline and anxiety pumping through Evylin remained, causing the world to swirl before her.
She watched, body trembling, as Auden and Deckard carefully drew Ilain down, Ethenn handing her over gently from her perch on the front of his horse.
Due to their magical strength, the hunter and Evylin were the least worn down of the troop, which had made him the most qualified to ensure Ilain’s safety during their dash from the Reach.
Thom and Rafferty sprang from their horses as well, hurrying to help clear a place for her to rest.
Evylin was numb; her mind and body were addled by the contradiction of emotion raging within her.
Over and over, her eyes sought Deckard, latching on to his every move.
Her head spun as she dismounted and tried to regain her composure.
Just as in Dunneshead, she felt herself drawn to him, drawn to his dark and mysterious magic.
She’d stared at him in dumbstruck awe after the ambush, amazed by the power he so effortlessly wielded.
In that moment, his eyes had met hers, sending a surge of embarrassment coiling through her.
Ever-changing, his gaze flickered to a gentle blue in the moonlight before shifting back to a green so dark it could have been black.
She was horrified that he’d caught her gawking, mouth ajar in wonder.
Her desire for Deckard was intensifying by the moment, tightening like a vise upon her very soul. The Warrior inside of her had almost gained control as she watched Deckard work magic with the ease she felt with a sword. The power he wielded was deadly, strong, and unfathomable.
And it frightened her—the urge upon her soul that was growing too ardent to ignore, beckoning her to reach out and draw him close.
Evylin’s magic wore off during their panicked ride.
They’d returned the Relics to Rafferty for safekeeping before they’d ridden away—all except the Night Relic, which Deckard returned to him once they reached their ramshackle camp.
Now, a hollowness filled her chest. And every time she looked at Deckard, her heart fluttered, causing her hands to flex.
To complicate her struggle, dread hung over Evylin in the dim gray morning. It wrapped around her like the fog in the trees. She couldn’t see clearly. She couldn’t think clearly. All she knew was she had to do something. She had to find a way to stop the feeling welling up inside her.
Thom, Rafferty, and Ethenn stood aimlessly to the side while Deckard and Auden laid Ilain amongst the ferns and brush.
Auden pressed a hand to her head, then settled her skirt modestly around her legs with brotherly care. “She’s fine,” he said, though his voice was unsteady. “Just exhausted.”
“She isn’t injured?” Ethenn asked in a worried tone.
Auden shook his head. “Her body shut down to protect her. She’s in a magically induced stasis. Once the magic ensures her recovery, she’ll wake. We can’t do anything to help but keep her comfortable and safe.”
They all stared at Ilain’s prone form, her fiery hair damp from sweat and dew. Evylin clasped her hands to her chest, fighting the jitters that worked through them. Her nerves were frayed from too little sleep, the battle in the Keep, the ambush, and the fear plaguing her every thought.
Auden sighed, his sister’s security ensured, and turned to them. “Are any of you injured?”
Scanning the troop, their faces and bodies riddled with sharp cuts from the Wind Mages’ attacks, Rafferty raised his brow. “You got enough left in you to fix these?” he asked, gesturing to the scrapes on his cheeks.
“I meant something more life-threatening,” Auden said. “I don’t have the energy to waste on menial wounds.”
“I wouldn’t call them menial, but whatever,” Rafferty muttered.
When everyone confirmed their overall health, Ethenn and Thom worked together to set up a tent over Ilain. With no idea of how long she’d remain unconscious, they decided it would be best to keep her safe from the elements.
“We’re all wiped,” Rafferty said as the men worked. “Shouldn’t we bunk down too?”
Deckard ran a hand over his jaw, expression tense and haunted.
“We can’t risk it,” he said. “It’s almost light.
Someone is going to see all those . . . those bodies we left behind on the road.
A force of Mages that large couldn’t be defeated by ordinary travelers.
With Blount’s writ, they’ll know it was us, and they’ll track us. ”
“But we can’t go anywhere,” Thom said. “Not until Ilain’s recovered.”
“No, we can’t,” Auden agreed, then added, “Not all of us.”
Evylin’s brow furrowed. They all turned to gape at him, confused.
“What do you mean?” Deckard asked.
Auden mussed his hair, long enough to hang over his collar after their time traveling.
He gave a forlorn glance toward Ilain. “The Order of the Wind was clever,” he said.
“Either by their own means or with Blount’s help, they outwitted us, waiting for us to make it out of the Keep and return weakened.
They knew we’d make a break for the kingdom’s boundary, and they were prepared.
The only reason we survived that attack was because of you, Jonn.
And while your magic gives us the semblance of an upper hand . . .”
He paused, expression darkening. “I fear it won’t be enough next time.”
His ominous words hit Evylin like Blount’s kick in the Water Keep. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked furiously to drive them away. If Deckard’s magic wasn’t enough . . . they’d all die the next time.
No, Evylin realized with a frightening start, not all of us. She was a female Warrior. Blount would keep her alive to Bond with her. He’d kill the rest of them. She’d lose them all—she’d lose him—and be alone for centuries.
Her heart squeezed with panic.
“So what are we supposed to do?” Thom asked with his usual irreverence. “Give up?”
Auden’s sharp green eyes narrowed. “No,” he insisted. “We will never give up. You see the control Blount has over the Orders, over the whole country. If he gets the Relics . . . No, this is bigger than any of us. We cannot stop. And if we die, we die.”
The somber declaration caused the Ephrian soldiers to dip their heads. But it caused Evylin’s mind to riot.
She couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t lose more people. She couldn’t be alone.
Evylin clamped her jaw tight. Auden was right; there was no stopping, not when Blount would perpetually hunt them. If Blount was desperate for the power of the Relics—if Bonding could give him even more power—there was no doubt he’d pursue her to the ends of Terraeus as well.
“What do we do then?” Evylin demanded.
Auden sighed reluctantly. “I believe,” he said, “we should split up.”
“No,” Deckard said immediately. “That’s too dangerous.”
“Staying together is too dangerous,” Auden argued.
“First, we have to wait for Ilain to recover before moving her. As you said, they won’t have any problems tracking us here from the gates.
A smaller party would be easier to hide while we wait for her to wake.
Second, we’re conspicuous as a team of seven.
Blount listed our numbers on the writ. That means people are looking for a large party.
If we split, we make ourselves harder to find. ”
Auden drew in a tense breath, his lips quirking down. “Third and most importantly, we’ll split the Relics as well. If one party is captured . . .” He shrugged. “Then the other will still have a chance to succeed.”
Silence descended as they all took in his reasoning.
Evylin chewed on her lip, considering his logic.
All his points were valid; they were strong.
But the idea of going into the Waulden forests separated from her troop unnerved her.
So many things could go wrong. If one team were taken, the other would have no way of knowing, no way of rescuing them.
The seven of them together could defend themselves; they’d proven that tonight.
The thought sent Evylin’s eyes darting back to Deckard.
He’d begun to pace, hand still working over his beard in frustration.
Yes, his magic had saved them tonight. But what if Auden was right?
What if, next time, Blount’s forces were too large?
The Keeps were becoming more difficult, and their exhaustion afterward was more severe.
What would happen if Blount truly outsmarted them at the next Keep?
Her heart ached at the memory of all she’d lost and the fear of what she still stood to lose.
An idea took root in Evylin. Whether or not they succeeded at the Time Keep, whether or not Blount outwitted them all, she knew one thing: She had to protect herself against the certain death looming nearer each day.
She couldn’t allow herself to be destroyed when Deckard was taken from her life for good.
After Dunneshead, after the pull of the magic between them, Evylin had to be free of him. She had to break this enchantment that threatened to connect their souls, only to leave her in desolation.
“It makes sense,” she said, breaking the silence.