CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE #2
“As long as they returned them to their original rooms, yes. I know where all three of them are being held.”
Evylin stepped around the settee to take a seat. “What about the other Relics? How are we going to retrieve those?”
Deckard hesitated, then looked at the rug beneath his feet. “We may have to leave them.”
His downcast tone caused Evylin to go rigid. “And what about the Calders?”
“I fear . . .” He didn’t meet her gaze. “We’ll have to leave them too.”
Evylin’s heart dropped. “No,” she gasped. “We can’t do that.”
“I’m not sure we have a choice.”
“Jonn, we’d be leaving them to their deaths.”
“I know,” he murmured, running a hand over his face. “But if it’s between letting Blount gain five Relics or three, you know what Auden and Ilain would tell us to do. Yes, the Calders will die if we don’t save them, but . . . They’ll likely still die if we try to.”
Evylin stared into the fire dejectedly, her thoughts plaguing her with visions of Ilain and Auden left to Blount’s devices.
“If, however,” Deckard continued somberly, “we do make it out with the two Relics we have, we know where the final two are. We can return to Ephria and obtain them before Blount. Then we’ll each have four.
Even if we have to go into hiding, he won’t have succeeded entirely, and we can increase our strength or find the Alliance.
Whatever it takes, if we live through this, we can stop him. If we don’t. . . .”
He didn’t need to finish the alternative. They knew what would happen if they failed to escape Renaul.
Evylin took in a broken breath as she considered their situation.
The Calders had dedicated their entire lives to stopping King Blount and his tyranny.
Dying at the hands of his son . . . What a brutal injustice that would be.
But then, their deaths would secure his ultimate end, and that would be the grandest justice the siblings could hope for.
She wanted to insist on saving them. It would be better for them to live to see that justice meted out by their own hands.
If they could only find the Calders, give them the Relics, and let them escape to fight another day, Evylin thought it would be worth it, even if the rest of them lost their lives.
But she knew it would be impossible. The Calders were locked in separate cells, drugged by viastasis. Even if they found them, they’d have to carry them to freedom. Which would be an impossibility if they were to fight their way out.
No, they couldn’t save the Calders or the Relics. Their only hope was to make a run for it themselves.
Even still . . .
“I need you to promise me something, Jonn,” she whispered, unable to find her full voice.
Deckard looked up, expectant—waiting.
Evylin held his attentive gaze, her heart breaking with her words. “If we don’t make it out of here, I want you to kill me.”
His expression hardened, his eyes growing wide in refusal, but she continued before he could protest. “I won’t be Bonded to Blount,” she said, fervor strengthening her voice.
“No matter what it takes, I will find a way to kill myself before that happens. But it could take years of torture before I find that opportunity. If it comes to it, if there is no chance of escape and he’s about to take your life, I want you to kill me first.”
“Evylin, I—”
“Please, Jonn.” She let all the terror roiling inside her show, pleading with him through her vulnerability. “I need you to save me from him.”
His whole bearing changed then, becoming broken and sorrowful. His head hung, and his shoulders drooped. But he whispered, “I promise, whatever it takes . . . I won’t leave you to him.”
Evylin didn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. “Thank you.”
“But—” Deckard’s gaze rose with a new vehemence in their green-blue depths. “I will pursue every other avenue of escape before I ever lift a hand to you. Be it tomorrow morning or a century from now, I will save your life before taking it.”
A soft, if doubtful, smile came to Evylin’s lips. “Well, then . . .” She brushed her hands over the skirt of her dress. “I suppose we ought to escape now.”
The smallest fraction of a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth as he raised a hand to stall her.
“Not yet,” he said. “Soon, but . . . We should let the guards relax. If we move too quickly, they’ll be alert and ready.
If we let them think we’ve given up, hopefully their defenses will be lowered, and our escape will be easier. ”
Nerves rattling through her limbs, Evylin fought the urge to twist her rings. Her body needed movement and action. It craved the chance to fight, to run, to do anything that would distract her mind from the waiting. And from the words she couldn’t figure out how to say.
Dropping Deckard’s gaze, Evylin took a steadying breath. “What should we do in the meantime, then?” she asked.
“We were apart for two weeks,” he said thoughtfully, “and forced into silence for four days. I’d say we have some catching up to do.”
Evylin turned back to the fire, unable to sit still in the weighty expectation of the moment. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Shall I tell you about our journey, or would you like to start?” he asked.
“You start.”
“All right.” Deckard shifted to sit on the edge of the settee, resting his arms on his knees. “I will warn you; Rafferty was right. It was rather boring.”
A quiet chuckle slipped out of her at his teasing tone. “Is that so?”
“I was dreadfully bored, so I can only imagine how he fared.”
“Poor dear.”
He raised his brow. “Me or Rafferty?”
She gave him a sideways glance. “Both of you.”
Deckard dipped his chin in mock appreciation. “Your concern is too kind.” He drew a hand along his smooth jaw before beginning. “Well, there isn’t much to tell. Traveling and training took up most of our time. I can say that the marshes of Wauld are worse than all the rain in the North.”
“Impossible.”
“You’d say that until you’ve been eaten alive by mosquitoes.”
Evylin scrunched her nose in disgust. “Heavens forbid.”
One of Deckard’s brightest smiles relaxed his distressed countenance.
At the sight of it, the tension in her muscles eased.
Here was the man to whom she’d bound her life—the noble captain who could charm even Hewitt Glaas into spending his afterlife with him.
Though she’d thought it due to meager novelty, she’d been drawn to Deckard from the start.
It was a subtle sort of attraction, one that snuck up on her rather than sweeping her off her feet.
Yet, here in this moment fraught with danger and impending death, she wondered how she ever could have lived without this wonderful man she’d come to call husband.
Despite their dire situation, this was the moment for which they’d both waited. They had returned to one another, and if nothing else, they could enjoy their final hours in each other’s company.
The thought pinched in Evylin’s chest.
“During our journey,” Deckard continued, “I began to keep Hewitt around at all times.”
Evylin looked up. “I thought you summoned him after . . . in Ephria.”
“I did, but I only saw him occasionally, and it was when I wanted to. While traveling through the marshes, I kept him around constantly.”
“But . . . You couldn’t talk to him or give any sign he was there. Why would you—?”
“I missed you,” he said plainly. “And Hewitt was the closest thing I could get to being with you. Even if we couldn’t talk.”
A sorrowful joy rose in Evylin. How could she truly appreciate the sentiment when she’d so foolishly been the one to drive him away?
Staring at her hands, Evylin let the discordant feelings rage unhindered. “Auden said he told you to let Hewitt go. He found out?”
“He did, but I didn’t listen.”
“Mm. Did he see him? Is that how he discovered him?”
Deckard shook his head. “He stumbled upon me talking with Hewitt in the woods. Auden couldn’t see or hear him; he just knew I was talking to someone invisible and correctly assumed it was Hewitt’s ghost.”
Evylin frowned. “No one else saw him? Until after the Time Keep?”
“No.”
“But I saw him in the Night Keep.”
Deckard shrugged. “I would assume that’s because it takes Night magic to summon a ghost, and we were in its Keep. My power was probably stronger there, making him visible.”
Evylin considered the memory. “And,” she added, “I was holding the Night Relic at the time.”
“That probably had its influence as well.”
She played with the folds of her skirt. “I understand why you didn’t tell me,” she said softly. “But I wish you had.”
“I do too,” he admitted.
“And I wish I had told you that I’d seen him. If we could have made this connection before, I could have talked to him sooner, and we could have avoided . . .”
Deckard didn’t respond but held her gaze with a gentle look of understanding.
If they had discovered the truth sooner, so much would have changed.
Evylin would have let go of her fear. The parties may still have split, but she would have gone with Deckard.
These last weeks, they would have been happy and in love, as she knew they should have been all along. And now, they’d lost so much time.
“Anyway,” Deckard said, breaking the silence. “That’s the end of my story. As dull as I remembered.”
The fire crackled, tinting the white walls and floor tiles in its golden red hue. Evylin hesitated, not wanting to relive the days without him. She didn’t care to give voice to the memory of Thom’s traitorous confession.
“I suppose,” she spoke regardless, “it’s my turn now.”
Sitting up straighter, Evylin took a deep breath. “Our travel wasn’t much more exciting than yours, but it was greatly more dramatic.”
“So I gathered,” Deckard said with a lightness that didn’t quite match his expression.
Evylin attempted to ease the growing tension in the atmosphere. “It was like being home with my sisters again. I never thought men could be so emotionally unstable.”
She was relieved to see he afforded her a small, amused smile.