Page 99 of Sword & Shadow
He offered her an apologetic frown. “It’s a motto of a sort,” he explained. “It pays to sell—it means that you’re a sellsword.”
With a sharp inhale, Evylin understood. These men were mercenaries.
“Well,” she said, meeting his gaze, “I’ve never met a sellsword who could beat a Mage and Warrior.”
Auden opened his mouth to reply, but the twang of bowstrings halted his words. They both looked, seeing four mercenaries holding arrows at the ready.
“Don’t bother fighting,” Nev said, then motioned to his men.
The mercenaries moved forward, ropes ready to bind them.
Evylin didn’t hesitate. She let her senses rise, tapping into her magic. In a fluid motion, she twisted away from the false drunkard with so much speed he could only gape, then she brought her hand down to slap his wrist. He yelped, dropping the blade. She caught it, ready to drive it into his stomach. Then she heard a thump and Auden’s groan.
She slashed at the mercenary before her, cutting a red stripe across his chest. She whirled to save Auden, finding a trio of men charging as a wall right in front of her on the narrow street.
The men rammed into her, pushing her back and into the noticeboard. The back of her head smacked against the wood, sending black dots swirling into her vision. She flicked her wrist, and one of the men cried out when she found her mark. He crumpled, freeing her arm enough that she could maneuver it to make another strike. But she wasn’t fast enough.
One of her assailants slammed the butt of his dagger into her temple. Her knees buckled, but she held onto consciousness with all she was worth. She jammed her blade forward, hitting another man, and drove her knee up, catching his groin and sending him to the dirt.
Then the mercenary’s hilt crashed into her temple again, and Evylin dropped too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Deckard watched as Evylin and Auden led their horses toward the road to Dunneshead in the morning fog. His grip strained on the hilt of his sword, fighting down the memories of the last time he’d let the two of them go off together. He couldn’t help the nagging fear that he was letting them walk straight into danger once more. But he reminded himself that the last time was a suicide mission, and this was a simple trip into a village.
Forcing his gaze away from their shrinking figures, Deckard turned back to the camp. He’d made the right choice, he knew. This was exactly what Hewitt had told him to do; he’d given Evylin the independence she desired.
Evylin’s depression weighed on Deckard. Giving her space, letting her process it without his help, felt wrong. The urge to take her in his arms last evening nearly overcame his resolve.
Knowing his weakness, Deckard had searched the trees, looking for Hewitt’s ghost. He’d met the man’s eyes, shrouded in the distance, silently begging for clarification. At Hewitt’s nod, Deckard found the strength to hold it together and trust her uncle. He left her to her fragile emotions and agreed to her request.
Now, he had to hope it was worth it.
Deckard knew convincing Auden wouldn’t be easy. He expected the Mage’s reluctance. What he hadn’t expected was his enterprising.
At Deckard’s appeal last night, Auden was good-natured and understanding. But he was also cunning. “If we let her go, the others will inevitably ask to join in the future,” he’d said, using the same argument as Deckard. “We can’t have that.”
“I’ll talk to them,” Deckard promised.
“That’s not enough.” Auden took a step forward, his voice low as they spoke at the edge of camp. “This is dangerous. Evylin will not pass as Waulden, not by any stretch of the imagination. We’re trying to stay forgettable. An Ephrian woman accompanying a Waulden man ishighlymemorable.”
“What do you want me to do?” Deckard asked desperately. “She needs a break. Otherwise, I fear she’ll fall apart in the Keep.”
Auden considered him, his lips pinched. He clasped his wrist in a pensive posture. “This is a great favor you’re asking,” he said with calculation.
Deckard heard the weight behind his inflection. He chose to accept it. “And what would you like in return?”
Auden’s reluctant response gave Deckard pause, but he knew he’d agree no matter what it was.
“After we’ve gathered the Relics,” Auden said, “completing this mission...I want your word that you’ll join the Alliance in whatever capacity they ask of you.”
Deckard’s heart squeezed. That was more than a favor. It was a life sentence. As a Mage married to a Warrior, they’d want him to Bond with Evylin. He couldn’t promise that when neither he nor Evylin wanted it.
But Deckard knew something Auden didn’t: His marriage to Evylin wasn’t sealed. If it came to it, Deckard could dissolve theirmarriage, saving them both from that fate. Or, he realized, it could saveher.
If he made this promise, the Alliance could make him marry and Bond with another Warrior, should they find another willing female.
Despite what it might mean for him, despite that he was allying himself with a governmental regime he knew little about, Deckard said, “Fine. You have my word.”
