CHAPTER FIFTY #3
Thom screwed up his face in confusion. “You’re trying to earn his favor?”
Renaul gave Highlady Freye a bewildered look. “They don’t understand at all, do they?” She reached out to pat Thom’s hand. “My dear, I’m giving you to Rouland as a token of my affection. I do not need to earn his favor. I’m already his lover.”
Evylin felt her lips part in shock and revulsion. Deckard’s fork scraped his plate, Ethenn choked on his wine, and Thom gaped.
“Hold on,” Rafferty said, a wily smirk gliding over his face. “You’re boffing both the king and his son?”
“Rafferty,” Deckard hissed, but Renaul laughed uproariously.
“Mostly his son, these days,” she confirmed. “The king, being in his eighties, is not as virile as he once was, but he does visit every few months.”
The Ephrians fell silent, unsure how to respond to such information. With an aunt like Serene Loore, Evylin had heard much sordid gossip about the behavior of the royals and nobility. But she’d always thought it overdramatized for effect. This sort of unabashed debauchery caused her skin to crawl.
Deckard let out a heavy sigh, at an apparent loss for words.
“Does my lifestyle displease your sensibilities, Colonel?” Renaul asked with an amused smirk.
“I believe my shock is perfectly evident,” Deckard replied sharply.
Renaul hummed with marked disdain. “I’d heard that Ephrians were prudish, but with a wife like yours, I’d imagined you would be a bit more open-minded.”
Deckard glared at her. “I’d ask you not to insult my wife by suggesting she’s anything like you.”
As Renaul lounged in her chair with a haughty smile, Evylin slipped her fingers to Deckard’s wrist. He’d advised her of caution. It was the least she could do to return the favor.
Her gentle touch brought his eyes to hers. Then he turned his hand, intertwining their fingers together.
“While you may be correct at the present,” Renaul said, ignoring their affection, “I’m afraid you won’t be for much longer.”
“And why is that?” Deckard demanded.
“Because tomorrow, you will be dead, and your wife will be free.”
Fear gripped Evylin around the throat. Was it to be just as she’d feared?
Just as she’d chosen to let herself love Deckard, he was to be taken from her?
She hadn’t even had the chance to tell him yet.
A crushing wave of emotion threatened to pull her under, drowning her in the expectation of her sorrow.
“You said this was our last dinner,” Thom said.
“It is,” Renaul said. “You, your brother, and your friends: It’s your last dinner. The lovely Mrs. Deckard, however . . .”
Cold dread slid over Evylin, wrapping around her veins. She knew exactly what Renaul was about to say.
“You see,” the noblewoman’s eyes glimmered with vile glee, “Rouland was quite taken with our beautiful Warrior. And he intends to have her for himself.”
Deckard’s fingers tightened on Evylin’s.
“No, your death would be a waste, dear,” Renaul said to her. “And Rouland is never wasteful. He is married to my niece, of course, so you won’t have the honor of being his wife. But I hear magical Bonds create a far more powerful connection anyway.”
Trembling with repulsion and fear, Evylin scowled at the woman. “I would rather die,” she said.
Renaul gave her a truly bemused look. “Nonsense. If you’re worried, he’s a wonderful lover. Gentle and attentive, in fact. Much better than his father, though not quite as enthusiastic.”
Deckard shot a furious glare at her. “He will not touch her,” he growled fiercely.
“I appreciate your jealousy,” Renaul said in amusement, “but it will do you no good. Rouland will be here in the morning. He will kill the four of you gentlemen, and then he’ll likely torture the Calders for their knowledge and kill them after.
And as soon as he has all the necessary implements, he’ll Bond with Evylin.
From there, the Bond will do the work, or so I’m told. ”
Evylin struggled to breathe, her head reeling.
She stared down at her plate, which sat still untouched.
Bile rose as she watched the juices and sauces bleed together in the center.
Deckard’s fingers were painfully tight around hers, but she could hardly feel the pressure.
Under no circumstances would she allow herself to be Bonded to Blount.
She couldn’t bear to fathom the thought of such an end.
Renaul set her empty wine glass down, and a servant sprang forward to refill it. “I must say, you’re all far too upset by this. You should be pleased that he’s allowing her to live.”
“Some lives are worse than death,” Thom said with anger. “None of us would subject Evylin to such a cruel fate.”
“Pity that you feel that way,” Renaul said with a bored inflection. “Well, is that it then? Do you have no more questions for me?”
None of them spoke. Evylin’s fear continued to rise, choking her.
Left with no other choices lest she be shackled to the whim of a sadistic tyrant, she would have to kill herself.
But how? She had no weapons, no means of inflicting bodily harm.
If Blount wanted to Bond with her, he wouldn’t allow Renaul’s men or Highlady Freye to kill her, no matter what she did to provoke them.
If she tried to escape or fight, they’d just injure her enough to force her into submission.
As Auden had said, Blount would do whatever it took. . . .
No, if she wanted death, there was only one recourse.
Staring down at their joined hands on the table, Evylin drew her thumb along Deckard’s. If she wanted to be protected from such a cruel fate, she’d have to convince him to do it.
In the prolonged silence, Ethenn cleared his throat. “I have a question,” he said.
Renaul gave him a cheery smile. “That’s the spirit. Ask away, handsome.”
“Where are the Relics?”
They all perked up at that.
“Mm, you are a clever one, aren’t you?” Renaul tapped a finger to her chin, considering Ethenn. “I did promise you honesty. They are safely locked away in my vault.”
“And where is your vault located?” Ethenn asked.
Her smile grew. “In my bedroom.”
The five Ephrians shared thoughtful looks.
“Don’t bother planning a heist, dears,” Renaul said jovially. “Rouland gave me this vault as a gift. It’s magical in design, and only he or I can open it.”
“Seeing as how he’s intending to throw you over for Eve,” Rafferty mused, “what d’ya say to switching sides?”
Hope didn’t have a second to grow in any of them as Renaul laughed instantly at the suggestion. “I think not. You cannot offer me what Rouland has. And what would the purpose of all this have been if I simply let you go?”
“An entertaining diversion?” Rafferty suggested.
Renaul sipped her wine dismissively.
“What about the Calders?” Thom asked. “Where are you keeping them?”
“In my dungeon,” she said.
“And where is that?”
“In what used to be my family’s catacombs.” Renaul sat forward, eyes twinkling. “You can’t rescue them either.”
Thom turned away, not deigning to reply.
“Any further questions?” Renaul asked.
At their prolonged silence, she shrugged.
“Very well. I’ll admit I’m disappointed.
I thought we might have more fun, but alas .
. .” She surveyed them coldly. “Now, if you’re done with our conversation, I’d advise you to finish your plates.
The hour grows late, and you’ll want to be at your best in the morning. ”