CHAPTER TWENTY
Already, Evylin was growing weary of the crowd at the camp.
Returning to the road was exhausting on its own.
Coupled with their urgent quest for the Relics, the demanding training Brea put them through, the sensation of overwhelming emotions from Deckard, and the countdown of her last days with Hewitt, the continual presence of others became increasingly frustrating.
Dropping to a seat on the grass, Evylin heaved for breath after Brea’s latest training session. After years of training with Hewitt, she’d thought herself in peak condition. Now, Brea’s regimen had her second-guessing herself.
It appeared that Ethenn was of the same mind. “How is it that she is harder on us than Hewitt?” he asked, sweat dripping off his nose.
“It’s because I don’t have a soft spot for you,” Brea said, surveying their exhaustion from the side. She’d worked up a sweat as well, though she wasn’t nearly as worn out as the two of them.
Ethenn blew out a puff of air. “Hewitt only ever cared about Evie. He pushed me as hard as anyone else.”
Evylin reached over to shove his shoulder. “Hewitt was hard on me too.”
“If a mother hen is hard on her chicks, then sure.”
She threw a clump of grass at him. Then she heaved a breath and stared at the thick curtain of trees above them. “Shouldn’t being Bonded make this easier?” she lamented. “I thought I was supposed to be stronger.”
“You are stronger,” Brea said. “That doesn’t mean you get to stop working.”
Evylin grumbled her discontentment at hearing the truth.
Ethenn brushed the grass off his damp shirt. “How does that work?” he asked. “I mean, in terms of Bonding. How does it affect your magic? Can you . . . feel that it’s different?”
Worn out, Evylin didn’t want to think about the complexities she now felt inside of her. “Maybe?” she sighed.
His frown made it clear that her short reply wasn’t a good enough answer.
“I don’t know, Ethenn,” she managed through a chuckle. “Jonn and I have been Bonded for three days. I knew nothing about it before, and all I know now is that I hardly feel different at all, and yet . . .”
He waited with expectation as she smiled and thought about the constant sense of a familiar presence in her chest. “And yet,” she continued, “it feels unlike anything else I’ve experienced.”
“How so?” Ethenn prompted.
Finding the words felt impossible. “It’s just . . . On the surface, I feel the same as ever. Our relationship feels the same. Nothing seems to have changed.” Evylin paused and set a hand on her chest. “But underneath all that, something has happened. And now . . . I can feel him.”
Ethenn’s brow rose.
Evylin tapped her sternum. “Right here. Even though we’re nearly a mile out of camp, I can feel him like he’s right here beside me.”
“Isn’t that . . .” Ethenn fumbled for words. “Odd?” he concluded.
She let out a breathy laugh. “It is,” she admitted readily.
“But it’s also comforting, being able to sense every bit of my husband at every second.
Somehow, I know exactly where he is.” She pointed toward the camp, letting her internal compass guide her to Deckard’s precise location.
“There. If you were to draw a straight line from the tip of my finger, somehow, I know it would end right at his heart.”
Ethenn and Brea listened with varying degrees of interest. While Ethenn was rapt, taking in all the information for himself, the other woman stood dispassionately nearby.
Letting her hand fall, Evylin sighed. “Ilain gave me a book,” she said. “It’s all about Bonding and what it is and does, and I imagine it explains all this better than I ever could. She told me that Jonn and I need to read it, so I assume she’ll tell you to read it too.”
“Attachments of the Soul?” Brea asked, a knowing look on her face.
“Yes.”
She nodded. “I tried to read that once. Couldn’t make it through the first five pages.”
Evylin frowned with a self-mocking grimace. “Glad to know it doesn’t get any better.”
“Is it that bad?” Ethenn asked nervously.
“It’s hard to understand,” Evylin said.
“But Ilain has read it, right?” he asked.
“Six times, apparently.”
“Then can’t she just tell us what’s in it?”
“I don’t recommend making that request,” Brea said. “Not unless you want to hear her lecture from night until morning, waxing poetic about the beauty and bliss of Bonding, conveniently forgetting to leave out the unpleasant parts.”
“What unpleasant parts?” Evylin and Ethenn asked in unison.
Brea brushed back one of the braids that had loosened from her bun during their training.
“I’m not the most knowledgeable on the subject, so don’t think I have all the answers,” she said.
“Bad or good. But as the Alliance desires me to Bond, they’ve given me a reasonable education on the subject, and there’s one great con that no one likes to discuss.
In fact, I’m sure it’s why Fishere wouldn’t have approved you and Ilain Bonding before we left even if it would aid our mission,” she told Ethenn.
Evylin and Ethenn listened with bated breath.
“When one member of the Bonded couple dies,” she explained, “their counterpart experiences the death within themselves too. Depending on the length of the Bond, the living partner goes into a catatonic state while the soul heals. The longer the Bond, the longer the recovery needed. The hope is to last a century together. At that point, the death of one will kill the other outright. But if it’s before that . . .”
Brea shook her head while her companions stared at her in abject horror.
“If it’s before the century mark,” she concluded, “the living partner will fall into the stasis for an unknown period of time solely to provide the soul time to heal. When they finally wake, they will never be the same, and they will have to grieve in a world they don’t know. ”
Evylin clamped her gaping mouth shut enough to ask, “Are you saying that if Jonn or I die, the other will lose their mind in grief?”
“Essentially,” Brea said with a lazy shrug. “Though with the short length of your Bond, it isn’t likely that it’d be any longer than a year of stasis. And you could attempt to Bond again, though it isn’t recommended.”
“I thought Ilain said you could only Bond once,” Evylin said.
“You can only have one Bond at a time,” Brea clarified. “Should your Bond break, you are able to pursue a second if you wish to risk it. It’s only been done once, according to what Ilain said, and it didn’t end well.”
Evylin chewed on her bottom lip while Ethenn grimaced.
Brea looked adequately reassured by their somber moods. “So you can see why some wouldn’t wish to risk such a thing, particularly not when you aren’t decidedly in love with your partner.”
“Yes,” Evylin muttered. “I can.”
The problem was, now, she worried that she’d trapped herself and Deckard into something they shouldn’t have agreed to. Already, losing Deckard would have been devastating to her. She still struggled to let go of Ryen and Hewitt’s loss. This . . .
The death of a Bond was a depth of depression that Evylin didn’t think she’d survive.
Now, having a constant sense of Deckard’s presence—feeling him within her very soul—how could she live without it?
Their Bond was strange, uncomfortable, and unknown, but it was also wonderful, fascinating, and reassuring.
To have this connection ripped away from her would hurt far worse than anything she’d yet to experience.
Each second that passed spread more regret into Evylin’s veins.
They’d faced so much danger already, and they were pressing even deeper into the heart of peril.
What would happen if one of them died during this mission?
Could Evylin handle waking after potentially years of unconsciousness only to discover herself devoid of her husband?
And what of Deckard himself? She’d pressed him into their Bond.
What if she died and left him to endure that broken desolation alone?
What a foolish, impulsive decision she’d made.
Evylin thought she should confess this revelation to Deckard. He deserved to know what they faced. And he deserved an apology.
From the start of their relationship, Deckard had made sacrifice after sacrifice for her.
He’d married a stranger, promised to provide a happy life for her, and proceeded to grant her the adventure she sought despite his clear desire for a simpler life.
Had she ever asked him what he wanted? Never once had she taken the time to discover his desires.
She knew Deckard well enough to know that he wanted more from life.
He’d left Stocburrough because it wasn’t enough.
He’d remained single for far longer than his peers because no woman was enough for his high standards.
He’d dedicated every second of his existence to bettering himself because he wasn’t enough.
Just as she’d desired “more,” he had too. It was part of what drew her to him. Unlike most men she’d met, he aspired to grander things.
What she didn’t know was what “more” looked like for him.
Then again, she still didn’t know what it looked like for herself either.
“There has to be something else out there. Some other reason to live.” She’d said that to Hewitt once, more than three months ago now.
“What would be reason enough to live?” he’d asked.
Evylin needed to talk with her uncle. She needed direction.
Her whole life, she’d longed for “more,” imagining that achieving such lofty aspirations would mean a life of adventure.
But when faced with the realities of her dreams—the truth that adventure was little more than constant travel and near-death experiences—she wasn’t so sure it was the “more” she sought.
“What would be reason enough to live?”
After months of waiting for the answer to come to her, Evylin decided it was time to go find it herself.