CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The days passed with the same trudging pace.
Each morning, they shared a quick, meager breakfast before moving on through the moors.
Not much could make riding from dusk ’til dawn, setting up camp, training, sleeping, and starting all over again exciting; however, Evylin found herself grateful for the companionship of her friends.
Together, Evylin, Ethenn, Ilain, and Thom had become an efficient, comfortable team. They filled the hours with easy chatter and friendly banter. Then, at the day’s end, Thom and Ilain cared for the camp and the horses while Evylin and Ethenn trained.
As the days progressed, the teaching reversed, and Ethenn began showing Evylin the finer points of hunting, tracking, and using a bow.
They brought Thom in on their practice, too, keeping his skills sharp, though he regularly lamented they were impossible to beat.
All the while, Ilain watched or sketched from a distance, uninterested in learning swordplay.
The rain was less constant, though the scenery grew less varied as well.
As the land began to rise and fall with hills, it lost even the vestige of trees.
However, the flowering shrubbery more than made up for the absence of wooden areas.
The surprisingly tranquil beauty of the moors enchanted Evylin.
Ilain’s depiction of its grayness and majesty was quite apt, and Evylin determined that the setting belonged in a novel.
Despite the manifold joys of their travels, it did little to redeem the nights.
As the sun descended, the men took their turn on watch.
While the women had several hours to sleep before the second and final shift, Evylin was restless.
She’d hoped that a week’s passage would help her forget the warmth and comfort of Deckard at her side.
Surely, she thought, I won’t need his presence to sleep. But her hopes were proving futile.
Though the weather had tempered during the day, the nights brought cold winds sweeping across the moor.
Evylin burrowed deeply beneath her cloak, fighting for the barest morsel of warmth.
She’d refused to sleep with the vignette a second night, but she often pictured it, imagining herself stretched out on the blanket in the sunshine of Wayford, reading with Deckard at her side.
Though she’d told herself to stop, as such imaginations would do her more harm than good, it was her one means of finally drifting to sleep after hours of shivering and holding back tears in the isolation of night.
Now, Evylin sat in the gloom of the new morning, mind still fuzzy from her fitful rest. A lazy fog drifted across the moors, leaving dew in its wake. Ilain huddled closely at her side, their cloaks clutched around them to keep the damp chill from their bodies.
“How much farther is it to . . . Well, wherever it is we’re going?” Evylin whispered so quietly she wasn’t even sure Ilain could hear her.
With a cold sniffle, Ilain scooted closer. “Auray and then the Time Keep,” she replied, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the men. “We’re roughly halfway. It should only take us another week or so.”
One week.
Evylin’s muddled thoughts betrayed her as she stared into the haze, which lightened to gray as the sun rose. Only one more week until she could return to Deckard. In eight days, she could sleep soundly once again.
Letting out a long, near-silent breath, Evylin pushed the thought away. It wouldn’t be the same when they reunited with the others. It couldn’t be. Not after the things she’d said or the choice she’d made.
“They’ll arrive before us, though,” Ilain continued, unaware of her inner turmoil. “If only by a day or two.”
Evylin didn’t care to think about Deckard’s travel. She didn’t want to consider if he was having as hard a time as she was. “And once we get the Time Relic,” she murmured, “we’ll head back to Ephria?”
“Yes.”
Evylin’s jaw tightened. Once they returned to Ephria, they’d travel to Estshire for the Terrae Relic and back to Loclight for the Space Relic.
It would likely take another month or more for all that travel, but Deckard could annul the marriage the moment he found a magistrate, no matter the settlement.
At which point, authority and her future care would fall back to her father.
Once Lawton Glaas heard of the annulment, he’d undoubtedly recall her home.
Would Deckard wait until the end of their mission for her sake?
Or would he take his first opportunity to be free of her?
“I love you, Evylin.”
His deep voice, steady and refined, echoed in her memory.
No, Deckard wouldn’t annul the marriage until he was sure she could go where she wanted without fear of her father’s summons. She knew he would prolong it indefinitely, letting her go to live as she pleased without him if it would make her happy.
Finding herself tugging on her rings, Evylin jerked her hands apart.
Their small party departed an hour later. The day was mild and sunny, a rare gift. Kites and osprey sailed through the powder blue sky, heralding the arrival of spring.
Late in the afternoon, Ilain abruptly stood in her stirrups, raising a hand to shield her forehead.
“Do you see something?” Ethenn asked, alert as ever.
The woman ignored the question, scanning the hilltops. Then she let out a merry chortle of excitement. “Look,” she called to them, pointing across the moor.
Following her direction, Evylin, Ethenn, and Thom rode up next to her. There, at the top of a hill, they could see the shadow of a building and horses dotting the surrounding grass.
“What is that?” Thom asked.
“That,” Ilain said proudly, “is my childhood home.”
They all whirled toward her in surprise.
“I thought you grew up in . . . whatever the Fire Mage Reach is called,” Thom said lamely.
Ilain waved him off. “No, no, I moved to Doorstunds Reach when I was ten. I grew up here in Faurna before that. You can’t see much of the town from here, but it’s just over the ridge. My father breeds and trains horses, as you might be able to tell.”
“Your family still lives there?” Evylin asked.
Ilain’s curls glimmered in the sunset as she nodded.
“My parents do. When Auden and I became Mages, we moved into the Reach, so we have no real home anymore. And our older brother, Vayden, works for the Alliance as well, so while he’s meant to take over for Da, he’s off Allore and Administration only knows where. ”
With a final lingering glance, Ilain nudged her horse down the road, but the three Ephrians hesitated.
“Did you . . . ?” Ethenn cleared his throat. “We could stop to see them if you wanted?” He glanced at Evylin as if for approval.
“Yes,” Evylin agreed, then considered the writ. “Only if it wouldn’t put them in trouble, though.”
Ilain didn’t stop, so the rest of them guided their horses to follow as she answered. “No, that isn’t necessary. I’d be delighted to see them, of course, but it’s best if they don’t know where we are. Blount will probably be keeping an eye on them in case we come calling.”
Understanding, Evylin returned to the previous conversation. “You said your brother works for the Alliance too. Are your parents also members?”
“Oh, yes. My parents joined decades ago. They’re quite influential, though they’re mostly retired these days.”
“How old are your parents?” Thom asked.
Ilain thought for a moment. “Da is sixty-seven, and Mum is sixty-five next month.”
Evylin’s brow furrowed. “They must have been quite old when they had you,” she said.
Ilain looked confused for all of a second. Then she chuckled. “I forgot,” she said wryly. “I haven’t told you my age. I’m forty-three, dear.”
Ethenn choked as he took a sip from his waterskin. Thom slapped him on the back, smirking.
“Mages and Warriors live longer than the average human, thanks to our magic,” Ilain explained. “And we look younger because of it.”
“Evidently,” Evylin muttered, bemused. She shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. “So you and your brothers were born into the Alliance?”
“I suppose you could say that.” Ilain twirled a curl around her finger.
“Our parents instilled their beliefs into us quite young, but we readily accepted them as our own. They didn’t hide the dark truth of Blount’s tyranny and the Mages’ reigns from us.
Even when Auden and I went to live with the Mages, we held onto our faith and our cause dearly. ”
“Is the Alliance a religious organization?” Ethenn asked skeptically.
Ilain nodded. “Quite religious. Our faith informs much of our policies and decisions.”
“Is that what brought your parents to join?” Thom asked. “Religion?”
A long pause drew Evylin to look at Ilain. The woman stared at Thom in consideration. “Do you want to know the real reason?” she asked. “Or the palatable one?”
Thom blanched. “Whichever you’re willing to give,” he said.
With a tight nod, Ilain turned forward to speak to the horizon.
“My mother was the daughter of a duke,” she began.
“My father’s family was well known for their superior stock and training, so Lord Wessam, my grandfather, purchased all his horses from them.
When my mother was sixteen, he bought her a gelding.
My father delivered it, and that’s how they met. Over time, they fell in love.”
“I see where this is going,” Thom said, amused.
“You don’t,” Ilain said sharply. “My grandfather didn’t approve of his daughter loving a lowly horse breeder, so he forbade them from seeing one another.
Being an honorable man of Allorian faith, my father listened, despite my mother’s protests.
Shortly after, King Blount went on a tour of Wauld.
Although his reign had begun nearly a decade earlier, it took some time to stabilize after his coup d’état.
Once his monarchy was established, he sought to tighten his hold on the gentry.
Those who weren’t found loyal and subservient were killed and replaced. ”
Evylin grimaced, finding the king no better than his son.
“Being a duke, my grandfather’s estate was on Blount’s route,” Ilain continued. “He stayed with the family for a week, and my grandfather did everything in his power to prove his allegiance. He spared no expense and appeased all of Blount’s requests, including the use of his daughter.”
A sudden silence filled the air as the Ephrians processed the highlady’s words. Evylin, Thom, and Ethenn all stared at Ilain, dumbfounded.
“He—” The words couldn’t work their way up Evylin’s dry throat.
Ilain had no such issue. “He raped her.”
Thom and Ethenn slumped as though they were the ones to fail Ilain’s mother and not Lord Wessam.
“A month later, it was discovered that my mother was pregnant,” Ilain said.
“Unwilling to reveal the king’s crime, my grandfather shunned my mother and accused my father.
When he learned of this, my father didn’t hesitate to find my mother and marry her, promising to care for her child as if it were his own.
He gave Vayden his name and allowed the world to believe our grandfather’s lie.
“But from that moment on, my father swore that he would find a way to dethrone Blount,” Ilain said, husky voice thick with passion.
“Our parents raised us knowing the truth about Vayden’s parentage, though we kept it within our family.
They wanted us to know so that we could understand the world we lived in.
So that we could know why it needed to change. ”
Under the weight of the Calders’ heavy history, the Ephrians were silent. They exchanged sorrowful, wary glances. The reason for Ilain and Auden’s dedication to the Alliance became clear. And Evylin had to wonder how many other families had similar stories.
Thom broke the awkward silence. “I’m—” He paused, brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, but did you say your brother is the king’s son?”
Ilain leveled him with a flat glare. “That’s what you took away from the story?”
He threw his hands in the air. “Your brother is also Blount’s brother,” he exclaimed. “We’re fighting to bring down your brother’s family.”
“They aren’t his family,” Ilain countered. “They don’t even know he exists.”
Interrupting whatever caustic reply Thom was about to put forth, Ethenn said, “What is he like? Your brother.”
After a pause, Ilain’s expression softened. “He’s wonderful,” she said fondly. “Vayden was always the perfect big brother. He’s kind, strong, and levelheaded. And while he isn’t magical, his smile could be.”
A twinge rose in Evylin at the description. Instead of conjuring the image of a redheaded, lanky Calder, it brought her the picture of curly brown hair, tanned and freckled cheeks, and strong arms that gave the best bear hugs.
Forcing the memory away, Evylin turned to Ilain. “Thank you for telling us. About Vayden and your family’s past. I think I understand. . . .”
“We don’t mind sharing,” Ilain promised. “Not even my mother or Vayden will hesitate to talk about it. The more people who understand the cruelty of Blount’s reign, the more who will join our cause.”
Evylin ran her thumb along the reins. “I know little about King Blount. But after meeting his son . . . Anyone who could have raised a child to become that . . . I want to stop him too—to stop both of them.”
“My dear Evylin,” Ilain said, reaching across to squeeze her hand. “We’d be honored to have your assistance.”
A new sense of companionship rose between Evylin and Ilain.
Knowing the highlady’s story and hearing the motivation behind her affiliation with the Alliance, Evylin knew she would have done the same for her own family.
The love of a brother drove the Calders.
Her love of Ryen drove her to pursue her dream.
“The Relics,” Evylin said, looking at Ilain once more. “You’re sure they’ll guarantee our success?”
Ilain didn’t hesitate. “With the Relics, no monarchy can hope to stop us.”
Ethenn and Thom frowned, but Evylin was beginning to lose her skepticism in the Alliance.
Ilain and Auden weren’t foolhardy or rash.
They’d spent years—apparently over forty—preparing for this moment.
From the sound of it, the Alliance itself was old.
If they’d waited so patiently, forming relationships and working in the shadows, perfecting their plan before making their move, they couldn’t be some vapid organization out for glory.
They genuinely wanted to see change occur for their countrymen.
“I can’t promise I’ll become an Alliance member,” Evylin said, still holding Ilain’s gaze. “But I’d like to see them win this war.”
Ilain’s lips quirked up in a knowing fashion. “Forget the Relics,” she said lightheartedly. “Even if we just had our small band alongside the rest of the Alliance’s people, I have no doubt that the victory would be ours.”