Page 27 of Sword & Shadow
Thankfully, the guard hadn’t heard their exchange. He nodded, satisfied with his job completed, and moved on.
Practically flush against Deckard’s back, Evylin kept a wary eye on Ilain. The muscles in her face had relaxed slightly, and she leaned into Evylin. “I’m all right,” she whispered so quietly that Evylin was sure she’d only heard it because of her Warrior senses.
Magic seemed to float through the air around them now. Evylin felt her skin tingling and her mind cooling. The Relics tugged at her, urging her to use them. To sprint across the field and through the gate. She could take down a few guardsif she needed to. How good it would feel to fight, her body alight with power. Fighting was like a dance for her—a beautiful, intoxicating release of energy.
Hand pressed upon the damp wool of Deckard’s cloak, Evylin flexed her fingers against his back. She remembered what it was like to dance with him. They’d danced together twice: once after they rescued Prince Ephren and then again at the king’s ball. Both times she’d felt alive, just like in a fight. Just like when he kissed her.
Deckard stretched his shoulders, his back pressing more firmly into her touch. She couldn’t help smiling. Whether he was surprised by her renewed comfort with him or not, she knew he liked it. And she thought that was probably why he hadn’t said anything to her about it yet. He was afraid that if he mentioned her strange behavior, it would stop.
When they paused briefly, Evylin rested her forehead against his back. It wouldn’t stop so long as she had the Day Relic. With the restorative joy it gave, the fear of losing him seemed but a memory. She could be happy with him, letting their affection grow into a true love. And she needn’t worry about facing the same devastation of Hewitt and Ryen’s loss again.
At an achingly slow pace, they made it to the gate. Ilain’s grip had grown almost painful around Evylin’s hand, but she refused to let go of the woman. The feeling would return to her fingers once they got through that gate.
The ironwork portcullis hung halfway up the stone walls. Should anyone make a break for it, the gate could be released to halt their progress with plenty of time. Evylin counted twenty-nine guards before losing track of which men she’d already tallied. They all looked similar: pale skin, angular features, and narrow frames. Their uniforms were reminiscent of the Ephrian Army’s, but with black boots, trousers, and dark purple coats. Their insignias also differed, featuring a fearsome hound withbloodred eyes above their rank. The symbol of King Blount, she supposed.
A captain stepped forward, requesting their endorsement with a bored tone. Auden handed over the paper to him. A thick wax insignia sealed the bottom. Evylin wondered what nobility the Alliance had managed to ally with here in Wauld. She knew noblemen in Ephria who worked with the organization, like Lord Tybaalt, who’d kidnapped the prince near Banbury. But she struggled to believe that many of Blount’s gentry supported their own usurpation.
“Looks like everything’s in order,” the captain said, then gestured for his men to come forward. He returned the paper to Auden. “By the king’s decree, we’re to search every individual who enters the kingdom. With your cooperation, we won’t detain you long.”
“Of course,” Auden replied, tucking the endorsement back into his pouch. He turned to Deckard. “Let them search the men.”
Taking on their roles of hired arms, Deckard, Thom, Rafferty, and Ethenn followed orders. Evylin carefully guided Ilain out of the men’s way, grateful for the cover of the walls shielding them from the rain’s reach. The guards immediately requested that the men remove their cloaks for an easier search. Each man was unceremoniously patted down, their weapons examined, and their packs searched.
Ilain began to slump against Evylin. “I’m tired,” she whispered. Then her head lolled forward.
A flash of panic coursed through Evylin. She tightened her grip on the highlady. “Hold on just a little longer.”
There was no sign that Ilain heard her.
Though their forms retained the subtle haze marking the shroud, Evylin looked at Deckard. She needed to warn him. Though what did she expect any of the men to do? They couldn’tget the guards to speed up their search. And Ilain was growing slack with fatigue.
Evylin had to get her out of there immediately.
Scanning the gate and guards, Evylin saw a narrow path clearing as some guards stepped aside. Ilain began to shake weakly. With no other options, Evylin wound her arm around the highlady’s waist and took her chance.
CHAPTER SEVEN
With her arm tight around Ilain, Evylin practically carried her toward the gate. If they could make it to the forest on the other side, they’d be safe, hidden in its thick foliage.
Careful to step where the terrae was already disturbed by footprints, Evylin moved with purpose. Her sword jostled against her hip, and she grimaced whenever a guard came near. Ilain was getting heavier; her breathing was becoming shallower. They were about to pass under the portcullis when one of the men stepped too close and clipped Evylin’s shoulder.
“What was that?” he gasped, whirling around.
Evylin froze for one second before deciding she couldn’t wait to see what the guard would do. Tightening her hold on Ilain, she made a break for it. Doubling her stride, she almost dragged the woman, her shuffling feet struggling to keep up.
She could hear a terse debate beginning behind her—likely the guard’s companion telling him that he was imagining things—but she refused to look back. There was another line on the Waulden side of the gate, travelers looking to enter the Reach. But the guardsmen on this side were far fewer in number.
Evylin veered to the right, guiding Ilain toward the trees. They’d hardly made it past the first branches when the highlady gasped, her knees buckling. Carried down by thewoman’s deadweight, Evylin dropped with her. They fell into the underbrush and bushes, water splattering their faces.
While Ilain lay there motionless, her eyes squeezed shut, Evylin checked their surroundings. With Allore’s mercy, they were out of sight. However, she didn’t like how close to the edge of the forest they were, so she tucked her arms under Ilain’s shoulders and dragged her farther into the cover of the trees.
Setting her down again, Evylin placed a hand on Ilain’s arm. “Are you all right?” she whispered.
Eyes still closed, Ilain’s whole body trembled with exhaustion. “Yes,” she murmured. “Just tired.”
Not fully convinced, Evylin drew one of her knives, watchful in case the guard had grown suspicious enough to pursue their run-in. She couldn’t see the gate through the thick trees. Only the faint rumble of conversation, the creaking of cart wheels, and the distant thump of footsteps kept her informed of the goings-on outside their hiding place.
She waited for several tense minutes. But no one came.
