“When you say, ‘losing control,’ you mean . . . ?”
His hand twitched on her back. “I mean, as you said, I have a psychosis. It must have always been there, lingering below the surface. Magic drives me to do things I wouldn’t normally do. It makes me more aggressive, more reactive, more...desirous.”
Ilain pulled back to look up at him. “That’s it?” she said blandly.
Ethenn frowned. “Isn’t that enough?”
“You bloody prude,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Then she slugged him playfully in the chest. “That’s how I feel every day of my life. It’s what being connected to Fire does to you.I’m impulsive, reckless, and overly eager. It’s why I’m ready to consummate our relationship after seven days while you’re over here debating its wisdom. It isn’t a psychosis. It’s the resource.”
“Oh,” he said with obvious uncertainty. “But I’m not a Mage. I can’t connect to the resource, can I?”
“Not in the same manner, no,” she confirmed. “I’m simply saying that these inclinations of yours don’t bother me, as I have them too.”
“Oh.”
Ilain sighed, then settled her head back on the pillow. “We’re going to have to work on your priggish tendencies. In the meantime, cuddling will do.”
After several seconds of silence, Ethenn whispered her name.
“Hm?”
“I still don’t understand you.”
“I’m a complex woman. It will take time.”
She could feel him smile against her hair. “I think we should make more time.”
Her heart warmed, and she snuggled closer. “Any particular reason?”
“We were advised to test the validity of our marriage,” he murmured. His fingers trailed across her lower back. “And cuddling is likely to lead to solidifying it sooner rather than later.”
Ilain grinned, though she knew he couldn’t see her delight. Then she pressed a kiss to his neck, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “I think that’s a splendid idea, husband.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
9TH OF RADIA, 1574
Cresting the top of the hill, Deckard surveyed his home. Ephria City sprawled across the valley by the sea, looking just as they’d left it eighty-six days ago. The early evening sun glittered across the water. Farmsteads dotted the land in small pockets around the city like the sheep of Estshire, while tightly packed buildings filled the walls’ interior to overflowing.
“I guess you were right,” Thom admitted somberly, pulling up beside Deckard on the hilltop. “It took us eleven days to get here.”
“This is one time I don’t welcome congratulations,” Deckard said with a sigh. “We didn’t account for the divergence of the tunnel. If we could have cut straight across the border—”
“We couldn’t.” Thom met his gaze. “You know that, right? This isn’t a failure on your part. If we had tried the more direct route, we would have wound up dying at the border.”
Deckard nodded but couldn’t accept that truth. “What if Blount has already come and gone?” he asked quietly.
“Then we’ll find another way,” Thom said confidently.
Appreciative of his brother’s encouragement, Deckard clapped him on the shoulder, then spurred his horse into a gentle trot. At the head of their troop, he and Thom guidedthem toward the city’s gates far below. He kept his back straight, working not to betray his worries.
Over the past eleven days of travel, Deckard’s apprehension of their plan hadn’t waned. It was clever, and it was potentially perfect. But there were too many opportunities for failure; too much could go wrong. One slipup, and they handed yet another Relic over to Blount.
Nudging the band of his moonstone ring, Deckard worked to maintain his casual manner. He’d gotten better at controlling his emotions, keeping them subdued enough not to disturb Evylin. It wasn’t that he intended to keep things from her. It was simply frustrating, having her deduce his feelings before he’d even had the chance to process them himself. And he had lots to process these days. His opinion on the Alliance, his fears over their mission, and the development of his powers. All of them scratched at the back of his brain like a hound seeking its bone.
As if Auden and Isla’s concerns about his ability to control his magic weren’t enough, Deckard was struggling to find time for the books Obel had sent with him too. Of the four, he’d only had the time to truly study one. Granted, that one had already taught him a great deal about the basics of Space magic, giving him a rudimentary understanding of the resource he wielded.
Space was beyond anything Deckard had anticipated. The magic could create and destroy. It could alter the very fabric of the world, should a Mage connect with it deeply enough. However, the practical applications of those things were still a mystery to him.
