“Shall I call her over for you?”
Deckard pressed his lips together around a dubious hum. “Alas, no, I think not.”
“No?”
“I believe my wife might become jealous as I’m a Mage, and she might think a Warrior would have designs on me.”
“Oh, yes, I can see how that might be a problem.” She forced down a smirk to sigh dramatically. “Well, I’m afraid that means you’ll have to leave me too.”
“Truly?”
“Indeed. After all, I, too, am a Warrior,” she said, then let her gaze turn sultry, “and I havegreatdesigns upon you.”
A soft affection came to Deckard’s face, his feelings shifting to something between tenderness and want. “Well, I have goodnews,” he said, voice hushed as if in a conspiratorial whisper. “The wife of whom I spoke? She’s you.”
Evylin gasped in mock awe. “Well, then, perhaps I’ll take you behind the nearest rock pillar and have my way with you.”
His eyes twinkled with mirth. “They’re called stalagmites.”
“I don’t care what they’re called.”
“Hm.” He gave her a cunning stare before turning away. His hand found hers beneath the folds of her cloak, and their fingers entwined.
They walked in silence then, taking quiet comfort in the other’s presence. Dreadful creatures of the depths or not, they would be safe together.
After hours of traversing the darkness, the troop stopped to camp in another grand cavern. They hobbled the horses and placed them in a small alcove to ensure they wouldn’t wander away. A stream trickled through the main hall, giving them the ability to refill their waterskins after Isla treated it with Water magic to ensure its purity. They didn’t bother with a campfire, letting Auden’s light orb glow, giving them just enough light to see without attracting any lurking creatures (hopefully).
Pressed against the damp rock walls, they didn’t put up the tents or spread out the bedrolls but huddled close and doubled blankets to keep warm. The stalagmites loomed around them, and the orb light turned their long shadows into claws, as though they were sitting in the giant paw of a dragon.
It seemed their surroundings got the others to thinking about terrifying creatures as well because Thom said, “I’ve been thinking. The Keeps’ Guardians? They were a dragon, a bloodwolf, and a flying bear-bird—”
“Avængebjörn,” Ilain corrected.
“Right,” Thom said dryly. “But they’re all magical constructs, aren’t they? Like the Shades.”
“Well, yes, technically,” Auden said. “But the ancient Mages did base them on real creatures. Why do you think we have tales of dragons, bloodwolves, andvængebjörn?”
“Because people like to make stuff up,” Thom replied defensively. “We have all kinds of fairytales and implausible stories that some bloke randomly imagined.”
Evylin cocked her head to the side, thinking of all the fantastic novels she’d read in her life. Stories filled with daring feats of courage, wild tests of strength, and mythical creatures of imagination. Only a few months ago, Evylin would have agreed with Thom, denying that any of the magical things she’d read were true. But now she was a Warrior, Bonded to a Mage. Perhaps the impossible was possible after all.
She turned to Thom with a smirk and asked, “Implausible stories like the existence of Mages?”
His face scrunched in distaste as a few around the camp chuckled softly.
“Bloodwolves are real,” Brea said suddenly. “I’ve fought one before.”
“Really?” Evylin gasped, her memory conjuring the hound they’d fought in the Night Keep with its violet veins and giant girth. The creature was frightening and deadly. She couldn’t fathom facing one of true flesh.
Brea nodded. “We call themdemolobisin Schon—demonwolves.The few remaining live in the DoraespinMountains, though they aren’t what they once were.”
“Their magic is gone,” Isla added. “Though they say theMadralobasleeps in the darkest caverns, waiting for her power to return so she can restore her children’s power and drink the blood of Mages.”
Uncomfortably, Deckard shifted beside Evylin. “Do you really believe these creatures exist?” he asked.
“I just told you I fought one,” Brea said. “Of course, I believe they exist.”
He gave a faint, placating smile. “Yes, but I mean, the real creatures of myth. These demonwolves of Schon are clearly what inspired the tales. That doesn’t mean that their magical counterparts were real too.”
