CHAPTER THREE #3
Auden’s gaze flickered to Evylin. “Yes, Minister Birde,” he confirmed. “Unfortunately, we lost him at the hands of Prince Blount’s ambush.”
A collective rumble passed through the room.
“This was how you discovered the prince’s involvement?” another female minister at the far end asked.
“It was.”
Archminister Fishere took the lead. “Blount attacked you himself?”
“No, Archminister.”
“Then how did you come to this conclusion?”
Auden told them of their experience in the Water Keep, the discovery of Blount’s identity, his torture resulting in the divestment of the Relics’ locations, and their escape. “When he informed them of how Rafferty stole the Day and Fire Relics from an ignorant Blount, the weasel piped up.
“You’re welcome!” he called, tipping his wine glass toward the ministers.
Another smattering of chuckles filled the room before Auden continued.
He explained the Ephrians’ discovery of the Calders’ lies, the subsequent reveal of the Alliance, and the soldiers’ agreement to continue assisting the Calders in saving their countries.
He covered their long journey through Wauld—leaving out the most dramatic parts and completely ignoring the tumultuous nature of Evylin and Deckard’s relationship, to her gratitude.
Then he reported Caustin’s capture of them and Renaul’s plans to give them to Blount.
At that point, the archminister requested that Isla give her account of the events at Renaul’s.
Her story matched everything Evylin already knew—she’d been working with Renaul for the past three years as her steward and personal guard, she heard of the plot to capture the Calders and Ephrians, and she requested aid from the Alliance to help rescue them from the mad noblewoman’s clutches.
Emmaas and Jarrad arrived, and the plans were set into place.
Isla also pointed out that though Renaul managed to take three Relics from them—a great loss—she failed to obtain the things Blount wanted most.
“Which are?” the archminister prompted.
“The Night Relic,” Isla said, then her eyes darted to their side of the table.
“And the opportunity to Bond with Evylin Deckard. The prince is quite fixated on her, as evidenced by his recent letters to Lady Renaul. He wrote, ‘Her role is more important than anything—in truth, she is even more important than the Relics.’ I believe this supports our theory of his increasing mania, suggesting early signs of the Deep.”
While several members murmured in the crowd, the ministers regarded one another cautiously. “I see,” the archminister said at last. “We will discuss that in more depth momentarily. First, how was it that you managed to retain the Night Relic?”
“It wasn’t just the Night Relic, sir,” Auden said, still standing. “Corporals Rafferty and Loxley also managed to hide the Wind Relic.”
Archminister Fishere raised his graying brow. “How?”
“During our time in Wauld, we discovered that Corporal Loxley is a Warrior,” Auden said.
Several “oohs” passed through the room.
“And Colonel Deckard is a Mage.”
Now, a collective hum gathered. Deckard drew a hand along his jaw, and Evylin brushed her knuckles along the side of his leg under the table. He gave her a half-hearted smile of gratitude for her support.
“An Ephrian Mage?” Minister Birde exclaimed.
“It appears,” Auden said, “that his grandfather was Waulden.”
While the murmuring continued, the archminister indicated that Auden should return to his explanation.
“Corporal Loxley handed Corporal Rafferty the Wind Relic,” he said, “and as a smuggler, he managed to hide it away on his person. And evidently, Caustin’s men didn’t search him that thoroughly.”
Rafferty sniggered softly.
“As to the Night Relic, Colonel Deckard managed to alter its appearance, so they mistook it for only a common family crest. I believe he must have used some form of shroud.”
The archminister’s gaze narrowed. “If Carlile noticed Mrs. Deckard’s magical abilities—”
“Private,” Deckard, Thom, Rafferty, and Ethenn corrected as one.
Evylin pressed her lips together around a smirk as the room fell silent.
The archminister stared at them. “I’m sorry, what?”
The soldiers deferred to Deckard as he replied, “Her correct address is Private Deckard, sir.”
A wry grin split the archminister’s wrinkled face. “My apologies, Colonel,” he said, his genteel tone blithe. Then he turned to Evylin. “And to you, Private Deckard. I hope I didn’t offend.”
Approving of the gentleman’s good humor, Evylin returned his grin. “Not at all,” she said.
Archminister Fishere turned back to Auden. “How is it that there were two Warriors and a Mage in one company without Carlile’s notice? Without your or your sister’s notice?”
“The only explanation I can offer, Archminister,” Auden said, “is that none of them knew of their magic and, therefore, were not using it to where we could recognize their power.”
Immediately, Ilain’s hand shot up, the vibrant gemstones on her rings glittering in the table’s candlelight. “I have a theory,” she said, then dropped her hand as the room stared at her.
Auden gaped at his sister, but the ministers appeared amused.
“Of course you do,” Archminister Fishere said as though a theory from Ilain was expected. “Do share, Highlady Calder.”
Ilain rose, the beadwork on her bodice twinkling like starlight. “With pleasure,” she said, then threw a wink at Ethenn, who was failing miserably at keeping his eyes off her. Granted, that seemed to be the point of the provocative gown.
“As my brother mentioned,” Ilain began, authority evident within her words and drawn-back shoulders, “we lost our sixth Ephrian member at the hands of Blount. What he didn’t tell you is that Major General Hewitt Glaas was Private Evylin Deckard’s uncle and a Warrior as well.’
The archminister’s brow shot up. “Another Warrior? Finding two together is . . . Impossible. You’re telling me that you found three?”
“I’m telling you, Edmaund, that I’ve found the solution to your Warrior problem.”
The room was deathly silent.
Ilain didn’t falter under the direct stares of dozens of people. She simply held the archminister’s gaze as though he were her equal—her peer. And perhaps he was.
“Hewitt chose this team,” she went on, her hand sweeping over the five Ephrians.
“He trained Evylin from childhood. She’s a fully-fledged Warrior thanks to him, and though she could use more training with her magic, I’d defy any of our men to beat her.
Then you take Jonn, her husband, whom Hewitt chose for her after only three days of knowing him.
He knew they were right for one another. A Warrior and a Mage.”
Evylin and Deckard exchanged a look, his thumb pressing against hers beneath the table.
Ilain motioned generally in Ethenn’s direction, not deigning to look at him.
“Hewitt handpicked Loxley out of hundreds of soldiers. Hundreds who weren’t Warriors.
If you count up the odds of three Warriors among nearly five hundred men, that’s less than a single percentage.
And while it’s greater than the presumed ratio of magical to non-magical individuals, what if our numbers are wrong? ”
The ministers all considered her words thoughtfully, even as Ilain continued, “Jonn is a Mage—that’s a fluke of his heritage. Evylin and Ethenn? They’re two out of one million.”
“This is your theory, then?” Archminister Fishere said. “As a Warrior, this Major General Glaas was able to sense the magic in them.”
“Exactly.”
The ministers began conferring with one another as the crowd resumed its murmuring, heads bent together.
Evylin drew in an unsteady breath. Was it possible?
Had Hewitt sensed Deckard’s magic from the start?
Was that how he’d known they were a good match?
Moreover, was it magic that drew Evylin to Deckard in the first place?
If Hewitt could sense magic because he was a Warrior, that meant Evylin could, too, didn’t it?
Evylin looked up at her husband, finding his green-blue gaze turned to her already. Had she always known, innately? Was her love for him nothing more than a Warrior drawn to a Mage, magic drawing magic?
No. Evylin leaned closer to Deckard, the arms of their chairs getting in her way.
Whatever magical pull she felt, it wasn’t the cause of her love.
She’d chosen Deckard—consciously. Not Thom, Rafferty, Ethenn, Auden, nor any other man she’d come across in twenty-seven years.
Only Jonn Deckard had captured her affection and her desire.
Not because he was a Mage but because he was the only man her heart could love.
Archminister Fishere held up his hand, signaling for silence. “This is a potentially astounding and impactful discovery, Highlady Calder,” he said with weighty intonation. “One that we will need more evidence of before it can be officially accepted.”
“Where else would you go for evidence?” Ilain asked. “You’ve got four Warriors of your own in this room.”
Glancing at his fellow ministers, Fishere accepted the idea. “All right, Highlady Calder, we’ll put your theory to the test. General Waaver, Sergeant Caarney, Major Olsen, and Lieutenant Lohen, please rise.”
Around the room, chairs scraped against the tiles as the four Warriors stood. One man at the farthest table and one in the center, both with rich tans and burly builds like Ethenn. At their table, Emmaas and the woman at his side stood as well.
Remembering that Emmaas’s granddaughter was a Warrior, Evylin marked this woman as his relative. Though vastly shorter than her family patriarch and with a complexion more of a tawny brown than umber, they shared the same strong cheekbones and full features.