“I didn’t care to press my luck. I’d seen what you could do with a blade.”
Her laugh danced among the hills.
The sun was hot overhead as Whickam Village came into view. The rolling hills of Estshire embraced the village with their vibrant greenery. Ivy crawled over the stone buildings and low fences, and the windows glinted in the noonday light. Gentleclouds drifted through the soft blue sky, reflecting the fluffy white herds that dotted the distant terrae.
“Welcome home,” Deckard said gently.
Evylin continued to stare at the village, her heart strangely detached from the sight. Twenty-six years of her life had been spent there, and she remembered every moment. Her eyes caught on the stone fence around Mrs. Cohle’s yard, where she and Ryen once watched the soldiers depart from their home. Within those buildings, her family awaited: her mother and father, her sisters and nieces. The Glaas smithy still stood with the stables next door.
Yet, this village wasn’t her home.
Not anymore.
With a smile, Evylin turned back to Deckard. “This is my past,” she said, then took his hand, forcing herself to ignore the pulse of discomfort that raced through him. “You’re my home now.”
Deckard’s expression softened with joy and affection.
Leading the troop down the dirt streets of the village, Evylin scanned the buildings with fresh eyes. Everything was the same. Mrs. Lyvingston, the town healer and midwife, sat on her stoop, preparing bushels of herbs for drying. She looked up, doing a double take at the sight of the riders. Then she called a merry, surprised welcome to Evylin.
They entered the square where the Glaas family home awaited. Ivy covered the pale stone walls. Its slate roof and large windows were a luxury in the village, additions made only after her father’s appointment as magistrate. While their family was by no means wealthy, they were granted the finest the small settlement could offer, thanks to the king’s funding.
The smithy and stables greeted them to their right. A soft amber light glowed within. Upon Serene’s information, Evylin knew it was Dolia’s new husband, Devaan, who worked theforge. After their marriage, he’d moved to Whickam Village, taking up the position under Lawton’s tutelage. Though Devaan had never trained formally, nor had Lawton practiced smithing for some years, the farming and shepherding village still relied upon Hewitt’s old trade. As they couldn’t afford to spend days traveling to Trollenston and waiting for repairs, even an inexperienced smith like Devaan was welcome.
They drew up before the stables and dismounted. Deckard ordered Thom, Rafferty, and Vayden to speak with the farrier and take care of the horses. “Then see about finding somewhere to stay,” he instructed.
Evylin tore her gaze from the village hall, stained with soot from the fire of now fourteen years past. “There isn’t anywhere,” she said.
They all turned to her, expectant.
Evylin shrugged. “The village doesn’t get travelers,” she said. “All we have is the tavern, and it’s got only one spare room. Youcouldask Mrs. Morgaan to rent it, but it likely only has one bed.”
“I call dibs,” Rafferty said.
Chuckling, Evylin shook her head. “Nonsense. My family will put us up,” she said. “Some of us will stay with my parents, but my sisters have homes, too, so they can house a few of us. And worst case, Hewitt’s old apartment above the smithy should be open. No need to spend our gold.”
With the plan in place, Thom led Rafferty and Vayden toward the stables while the rest of them made their way to the Glaas residence.
Evylin paused at the dark oak door. Her instinct was to walk in, but she questioned her right to do so. Instead, she rang the bell.
Several seconds passed. The quick shuffle of feet sounded on the other side. The latch clicked free, and the door swung inward to reveal a young woman with dark brown waves, softly tannedskin, and a newfound sense of maturity in her once-rounded features. Her eyes went wide, and she gasped. “Evie!”
Evylin barely had a second to brace herself against Calyn’s enthusiastic embrace. Unexpected delight welled in her, and she heartily returned the hug, giggling happily with her sister. “Oh, Caly,” she said into her sister’s wavy hair. “I missed you.”
Abruptly, Calyn pulled back. She gripped Evylin’s arms fiercely. “Well, I missed you, but why are you here?” Her gaze flittered to Deckard, and she gave a quick, sloppy curtsy. “Pleasure to see you, Cap—Colonel.”
Deckard smiled dryly. “Pleasure to see you as well, Miss Glaas.”
She scanned the crowd gathered behind them curiously, her eyes lingering on Ethenn. “Your last letter didn’t mention you coming here.”
“Our assignment took an unexpected turn,” Deckard offered. “We’re passing through for the night and hoped to visit with family while we have the chance.”
“Oh, that’s lovely!” Calyn said, her attention back on Deckard. “Please, come in. You’ll stay with us, of course. And your friends,” she added with another obvious glance at Ethenn.
Evylin fought down her amusement while Deckard gestured for the women to enter first. Evylin walked arm in arm with Calyn as Ilain, Isla, and Brea trailed them.
“Mother is in the drawing room,” Calyn said. “And Father is in his office. But I’ll ring for them.”
While she stepped away to do that, she asked, “Did you come by way of Trollenston?”
