He gave her an amused frown. “Why? It isn’t like a returning ring is much of a trick.”
“It could be,” she argued. “Remember what Ilain said about her rings, how she imbues them with magic? You could do the same with this one. Then it’s practically a weapon all its own. And should you need to fool someone like Blount into thinking you aren’t a Bonded Mage, you could leave it off, only to recall it in a time of great need.”
With a considering quirk to his brow, Deckard acquiesced. He slipped the ring off, then set it on the ground.
Evylin scoffed. “Oh, you’re no fun at all,” she teased. “You can’t just set it down. Throw it.”
“And what if it doesn’t work for me, eh? Areyougoing to search for it in the underbrush?”
Without reply, Evylin reached down and scooped the ring from the terrae. Deckard tried to stop her, but she was too quick for him. With a rapid overhand, she thrust the ring out into the forest. It flew so far out of sight that they didn’t even hear when it landed.
Deckard leveled her with a flat look.
Evylin just smiled. “Call it back,” she snarked.
He shook his head at her derision but straightened his shoulders. He stared in the direction in which the ring had disappeared. His hand flexed, and suddenly, the ring was back.
“Hm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose that could be useful when fighting Blount.”
“And I’m sure many other times,” she said, then furrowed her brow as a new idea struck her. “I wonder if I could change my dagger’s shape.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know,” she looked up at him, “like the Relics. I can make them into whatever sort of weapon I want. Maybe I can do the same with this talisman.”
He shrugged with curiosity in his gaze. “Worth a shot.”
Holding the gold and silver dagger in the air before her, facing the forest rather than her husband, Evylin imagined the blade as a sword in the same manner she did with the Relics. It took almost no effort to change the Relics’ shapes. It was as though theywantedto morph to her will. However, the dagger remained unchanged in her grip.
With a disappointed sigh, Evylin returned the blade to its sheath. “I guess not.”
“It makes sense, I suppose,” Deckard remarked. “The Relics are imbued with the resources, which are fragments of Allore himself. While they aren’t exactly alive, they are sentient, so they can respond to your will. This talisman cannot.”
“There you go again,” Evylin teased, “being a good student.”
Deckard smiled at her. “Sentient or not, I still say I got the short end of the deal,” he joked.
With a nudge to his side, Evylin turned back toward the camp. “Your magic is a weapon in and of itself. You don’t need a dagger when you can summon one of those shards out of thin air.”
He chuckled but caught her arm. “Where are you going?”
“Back. Dinner should be ready by now, and I’m hungry.”
“Oh, no.” He wrapped his arm around her waist. “I followed my wife out here under the suggestion that she desired my private company.”
“I said no such thing,” she countered through her laughter.
“We’re Bonded, remember?” Deckard returned, tugging her closer. “I don’t need words when our very souls are entwined.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sitting by the fire, Ethenn palmed his small dagger, attempting to perfect the trick Brea had taught him. When she’d shown Ethenn and Evylin how she always kept a blade hidden in the sleeve of her coat, he’d decided he wanted to learn to do the same. So she’d sat down with him, helping him learn the secret of easily concealing and retrieving the blade without cutting yourself. Thus far, he’d determined it was nearly impossible.
Still, Ethenn sat, working on the skill while everyone else lounged after dinner. He’d nicked himself half a dozen times already.
When he hissed at the seventh prick, Ilain looked over at him. “Do you have a particular penchant for pain?” she teased. “Or are you just too stubborn to quit while you still have a hand?”
On Ethenn’s other side, Rafferty sniggered.
