Page 246 of Sword & Shadow
Deckard clenched his jaw, considering. “If we’ve learned anything from our travels in Wauld, it’s that it isn’t a good idea to wear Relics for long periods,” he said cautiously.
Evylin gave him a cunning grin. “You carried it the past four days without using magic to do anything but hide it,” she noted. “I think you’ll be just fine.”
Deckard opened his mouth, then paused. Strangely, she was right, and he hadn’t considered it until she pointed it out. Over the past weeks, since learning that he was a Mage, any time he’d held the Night Relic—which was admittedly the only Relic he’d had much contact with—he felt very little. Though there was a perceptible emotional shift, its influence making him more coldly calculating, the rippling of power under his skin was containable. And over the last four days, even that detachment hadn’t made him unduly violent. It didn’t make sense. His experience was nothing at all resembling Evylin’s with the Day Relic. Even Auden and Ilain admitted to having their feelings intensely altered by the Relics.
“I know what it’s like to hold this Relic, Jonn,” Evylin said, the chain still dangling from her fingers. “It’s heavy, like death and resurrection all at once, fear and peace. It inspires violence and protection, demanding action. It changes you. I’ve felt that draw for the last several hours. Yet, for the last four days, you remained the same.”
Wetting his lips, Deckard stared at the gemstone. “Perhaps it’s because I’m a Night Mage.”
“Shouldn’t that make you more vulnerable to it?”
“I don’t know.”
Evylin sighed, holding the Relic closer to him. “You should carry it.”
“It’s dangerous,” he warned.
“Perhaps,” she said, then smiled. “But I trust you.”
Deckard’s muscles relaxed as he held her gaze. How long had he waited to hear her say that?
“Or maybe,” her dimples appeared as her eyes twinkled with mirth, “I just want you to let me see Hewitt again.”
Taking the Relic, Deckard couldn’t help returning her playful grin. “At the soonest opportunity,” he promised.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, then turned to accompany Ethenn into the forest.
Remaining behind, Deckard and Thom helped Emmaas, Isla, and Jarrad with the rest of the work. In a separate hidden trunk, they found canvas shelter-halfs. Along with the three they’d purchased on their journey, which had been affixed to their saddles when they fled Renaul’s, they pitched them at various distances around the clearing. Deckard made sure to put his and Evylin’s as far from the others as feasible. Not that he intended to pursue any marital advantages in an open-air tent, and certainly not around so many people. He simply wanted to enjoy having his wife back in his arms without thinking about the observations of the eight others in their company.
Once the tents were pitched and the fire started, Deckard helped Thom and Emmaas care for the horses. They removed their saddles, then gave them water and brushed down their coats. When the work was done, Deckard knelt next to his saddle, checking the bags. Everything remained. His personal items, money, and extra supplies—they were all there. All things that didn’t matter while they’d left behind the Relics.
While he sorted and repacked his belongings, Evylin and Ethenn returned. They moved to begin cleaning their catch, Emmaas and Thom joining them.
His work completed, Deckard stood to survey the campsite. The Calders, Isla, and Jarrad sat talking while the others worked. And on the far side of the camp, Rafferty sat on a felled log, chewing on a strand of grass, his silver eyes shifting constantly from one member to the next.
With nothing left to do, Deckard joined him.
Rafferty didn’t look his way but said, “Thought you and Thommy might come back with bloodied noses this morning.”
A small grin tugged up the corner of Deckard’s lips. “So did I.”
“All’s forgiven then?”
“All’s forgiven,” he confirmed, then tipped his head closer. “Now, why are you sitting over here by yourself?”
Rafferty spat the mutilated grass back on the dirt. “I’m not by myself. You’re here.”
Deckard raised his brow at the evasive behavior.
Plucking more grass, Rafferty fidgeted with it, eyes locked on the camp. “I don’t like these Alliance people.”
Now, Deckard frowned. IfRaffertydidn’t get a good feeling about people, then surely, something was off. “Why not?” he asked.
“They’re new.”
The tension that had sprung to Deckard’s shoulders immediately relaxed. “I would have thought you’d like new people, that you’d think they were entertaining.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t.” Rafferty rested his elbows on his knees. “I was happy with the seven of us. Course, it would have been better if Hewitt were still around, but we were doing all right. Then we split, and nowthesepeople have shown up. It’s like we’ve been infiltrated.”
