“I’m trying to decide,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Decide on what?”
“On which way I like you better.” She raised her brow in appraisal. “As an officer, clean-cut and trimmed. Or as a Mage, wild with curls and an unruly beard.”
Deckard scoffed out a laugh. “Why would you ever prefer me unruly?”
She fixed him with a flirtatious smirk. “It is awfully masculine,” she noted. “And mysterious. Which is a particularly potent combination.”
He huffed even as she draped her arms around his neck. “However,” she continued, “I did fall in love with you when you were an officer. And that...” She scanned his face fondly. “I think that’s the real you. It may not be so fearsome, but it is quite attractive—and refined and caring. Just like you.”
A gentle wash of joy swept through the air, and Deckard dipped his head. “You’re too kind,” he whispered, his lips a breath away from hers.
Their lips didn’t quite meet before footsteps pounded on the stairs, and Thom’s call for Deckard reverberated down to them.
Deckard pursed his lips in agitation at the second interrupted kiss of the day while Evylin pulled away, amused.
Thom appeared on the staircase behind his brother, eyes fixed on the breast of his coat. “I can’t figure out how to put this bloody thing on,” he lamented, struggling with his captain’s insignia.
“Give it here,” Deckard said, then turned to help him affix the silver metal pin to his coat.
Evylin took a seat on the sofa, surveying them with amusement. “You’ve been a soldier for how long, and you don’t know how to apply your insignia?” she teased.
“It’s different once you become a captain,” Thom defended. “They switch from patches already attached to the coats to these—” He waved a hand at the metal pin. “Things.”
“They are somewhat intricate,” Deckard said, fastening the last clip. “There. I’ll teach you properly when we have more time.”
“Thanks,” Thom said, and then a knock came on the front door. “Sounds like our ride is here. I’ll get the others.”
While Ilain and Ethenn rose from the table, Thom bounded back up the stairs, calling for Rafferty and Auden.
Deckard turned to Evylin, his happy air blurred into a tangled flurry of concern. “Are you ready?” he asked, his demeanor tense and constrained.
Evylin watched him cautiously for only a moment. Whatever was causing his concern, she wouldn’t let him wallow. Not when they were headed into a dinner where confidence would count.
She slipped her hand around Deckard’s arm, tugging him close. “We’re about to dine with the king we’re working to overthrow,” she remarked dryly. “This is what I live for.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The carriages pulled up to the palace just as the sun was setting, casting the white stone edifice in a rosy, orange glow. The lush gardens were lit by strung-up lanterns, with men and women of the court strolling through the hedges on pebbled paths. Evylin took it all in through the window. Her eyes flitted from one place to the next. Though it hadn’t changed much from their last visit, the springtime had filled the grounds with verdant life, and she was as in awe of the grandiosity as ever.
Evylin sat back, smiling over at Ilain and Auden, who were seated across from her and Deckard. “What was it like?” she asked. “Living in the palace.”
Ilain lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Boring.”
“When we first came to Ephria, we lived on Carlile’s small estate the majority of the time,” Auden added. “It wasn’t until we’d met King Ephren that he offered to have us stay with him, though it was more to keep an eye on us than out of true hospitality. We weren’t allowed out of the northern wing unless specifically ordered by the king himself.”
Evylin saw why that would lead to a dull residency. Though she imagined a palace as grand as this would still hold wonder after wonder, even in its guest rooms.
The carriage clattered to a stop, and the footman opened the door for them. Auden exited first, helping his sister down before Deckard did the same for Evylin. Behind them, Thom, Rafferty, and Ethenn disembarked from their carriage. They all met at the foot of the stairs before being greeted by a servant at the opulent entrance.
The servant led them through the halls, informing them that they’d dine with His Majesty in his private apartments. They passed hall after hall of rooms, painting after painting of landscapes and royalty. Vaulted ceilings towered above them. Evylin remembered attending the Annaltide Ball in awe of the beauty. Now, she wondered how the Shepherd King justified his indulgent life when he came to power in a coup against the Mages’ immoderation.
Of course, Evylin hadn’t realized the tyrants the first Ephren overthrew were truly magical. She’d always been taught they were heretics who believed in a false theology and claimed powers that weren’t real. Ephren had done his work, effectively controlling his people’s knowledge. The present King Ephren was no different.
At last, they came to the dining hall. The vaulted ceiling there was painted with a landscape of the rolling hills of Estshire. The richly carpeted floor, a reflection of the green countryside, stretched beneath a large table. Fine porcelain plates and silverware gleamed along its mahogany length. Candlelight flickered dully under the immense glow of the crystal chandelier overhead.
And at the head of the table, King Willem Ephren sat with the shining, platinum crown of the Shepherd King on his white hair. The banner of the Shepherd hung behind him, the crook and sword crossed on the verdant silk.
