Page 92 of Sword & Shadow
She smiled, eyes still on the forest even as she took his hand. After a solitary squeeze, she let go. “Don’t fall in love with me, Thom,” she warned. “I can’t be with you either.”
A rueful grin came to his lips. “Doesn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun,” he quipped.
“I’m not in the habit of deceiving myself,” she replied, then her eyes met his at last. “And I’m under no illusions about your worth.”
Thom blinked, instantly unsettled.
Ilain didn’t back down. “I won’t risk losing myself to you or Ethenn. No matter how wonderful either of you may be.”
“I’m—” Thom hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I’m not interested in—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”
They were silent after that, neither willing to be any more vulnerable than they already had.
Thom picked at the hem of his coat sleeve. In his head, he knew that Ilain was correct. He had friends, of course. His officers and fellow soldiers liked him. Hewitt had even chosen him to train on his exclusive team. Rafferty, Evylin, and Ethenn all sought out his company. So he couldn’t deny that he was liked.
Yet, deep down, his heart didn’t accept it. Not when, at every opportunity, his brother was chosen over him. No matter how much he knew the truth, he didn’t feel it. And with the comparison of Deckard to live up to, Thom wasn’t sure if he ever would.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
9TH OF CHRONOS, 1574
The rain couldn’t make up its mind. One minute it was a downpour, and the next a gentle mist. The wind whipped it up, splattering their faces and slipping under their cloaks. By the time they stopped to make camp near the village of Dunneshead, each member of the troop was soaked to the bone.
Evylin flexed her hand, refusing to let it drift toward her wedding rings. Over the past few days, she’d hardly stopped tugging on them. It wasn’t only the weight of her depression that clouded her mind, begging for distraction. It was the discovery of Deckard’s magic and his constant tutelage too.
From the moment they’d discovered his status as an Existential Mage, Auden hadn’t let up for a moment. If he wasn’t walking Deckard through the finer points of focus and connection to the resources, he was lecturing on the history of magic, listing the greatest Mages of the past millennium, or orating about the vast potential each existent held.
Except for Night magic. Any time Auden mentioned that resource, he inevitably began a short diatribe about how it warped the minds of every Night Mage, twisting them into villainous madmen.
Evylin would have sympathized with Deckard if her thoughts weren’t already mangled with anxiety. It felt as though the terrae was collapsing beneath her feet. Everything she’d believed was wrong. Everything she’d feared was coming true.
Helping Ethenn hobble the horses, Evylin’s hands trembled around the rope. She couldn’t escape the memories of Deckard’s test. Despite her desire to escape the moment, she’d sat at his side and did as Ilain suggested—she focused. She drew in a breath and let the “Poem of Life” guide her into a nearly trancelike state.
It was a soothing experience considering the last month of her life. Easily, she’d found her magic, that cool sensation tracing across her veins and into her head. The world came to life with clarity, and her heart settled.
Then Deckard touched her.
His grip on her arm sent an immediate jolt racing through her body. Every past experience she’d had with magic paled in comparison. In the moment of his touch, her senses lit up, taking in everything with shocking detail. It was as though the world slowed down as her perception increased. The steady chill calmed her thoughts, giving her a heightened awareness. Her skin prickled, and her muscles tensed, ready for action.
Evylin recognized the response intimately. It was the feeling she experienced both in a fightandwhen Deckard kissed her. It was her magic responding, her focus engaging, and her very being connecting with the foundation of Terraeus. And she finally understood.
She’d always questioned her reaction to Deckard—to his touch, to his kiss. Before she realized she was a Warrior and thereby connected the sensation to her magic, she’d asked Hewitt if he’d ever experienced it outside of a fight. He’d said no. Then she’d asked Thom’s advice, questioning if kissing anyone would feel the same. She’d concluded that it must.
Now, she knew, it wouldn’t because the experience wasn’t coming from Evylin alone. It was Deckard’s magic that hers responded to.
“Warriors and Mages are meant to be together.”
Evylin ran her hand over her horse’s smooth coat, avoiding the company of her troop. While she longed for the distraction of conversation, she struggled to find words these days. And with Auden’s constant training, she couldn’t forget the unbearable truth it brought.
Evylin refused to believe in fate. No greater power than King Ephren had brought Deckard to Whickam Village and into her life. They weren’t written in the stars or destined by Allore above. But that didn’t change the fact that Ilain was right: Warriors and Magesweremeant to be together.
She felt it in her innermost being, this truth. She’d even tested her theory, intentionally bumping into Auden the previous evening, grabbing hold of his arm, and seeking the stirring of magic within her. And sure enough, it was there. Not as potent as with Deckard, but still shifting under the surface as though waking from a deep sleep.
So now Evylin knew—if she wanted to experience that rush, that feeling of being wholly alive, she had to be with a Mage.
She knew it should make her happy. After all, life as a Warrior married to a Magemustbe the grandest adventure possible, just as she and Ryen had imagined. And she’d bet her future to ensure that their dream didn’t die in Whickam Village with him. Surely, this revelation meant she’d succeeded.
