CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
“He doesn’t look that scary,” Rafferty muttered to Thom behind Evylin.
Blount’s long stride drew him one step closer to their party as he scanned each member for the first time. “You have a very interesting taste in companions, Evylin,” he said. “Last time you were with Highlord Calder. This time, his sister accompanies you. Where is our other good friend?”
While Ilain shifted beside Evylin, her dress rustling, she gave no other indication that Auden’s mention bothered her.
When Blount stepped closer to Evylin, Thom moved up to stand at her side like a guard. “He’s a bit busy at the moment,” he said calmly.
Blount paused, regarding Thom slowly. Evylin could practically see his thoughts working to place this man. Surely, he remembered Thom. He’d been one of his captives.
As the memory dawned on him, a sly grin came to Blount’s face. “You’re the wrong Deckard,” he said.
Thom shrugged casually. “I’ve been told that my whole life.”
Blount hummed at the quip and turned to Evylin. “Where is your husband?”
With an internal search, she made a quick check on Deckard’s location—he was moving toward them from the back of thepalace—and she raised her brow. “With Auden,” she lied. “They’re watching the Relics while we give our terms to you.”
The sound of Blount’s genuine laughter filled the air. “Your terms,” he repeated. “That’s about as amusing as the idea that your husband would allow you to surrender yourself without guaranteeing your safety. You see, I spoke with Oriane before her death—”
When Evylin’s brow furrowed, Ilain clarified, “Renaul.”
“Ah, yes.” Blount gave Ilain a snide look. “I suppose you wouldn’t have known her first name.”
“Your mistress,” Evylin said. “The one you killed.”
Blount shrugged callously. “She was a disappointment in more ways than one. But it’s no matter. Less competition for you, dear.”
“I’d rather gouge out my eyes,” Evylin said.
“They’d heal, you know.” Blount scanned her. “Once we’re Bonded, the recovery would be even faster. I wonder if they’d be the same color, though.”
“Blood doesn’t change, no matter what alterations you make,” Ilain noted.
“Mm.” Blount looked as bored as he sounded. “As I was saying,” he stared down at Evylin, his height several inches taller than even Deckard, “if your husband isn’t here, it leads me to believe you have a plan that makes him think he can get you back.”
“We have an offer for you,” Evylin admitted.
He regarded her with interest. “Unless it’s the Relics, I don’t want it.”
“Not even if it’s me?”
That caused Blount’s eyes to darken greedily. Thom and Rafferty shifted, but Ilain remained still and silent.
“You?” Blount said, disbelief tingeing his tone. “And you think I’ll believe that your husband will allow this arrangement?”
“Under the correct terms, he will,” Evylin said. “I will Bond with you, as you wish, according to Renaul, and you will return Ephria to the Alliance’s authority. You may have Wauld and me, but not Ephria or the Relics.”
He looked disappointed, as though she thought him foolish, but she quickly added, “Aside from the Night Relic, of course. Bonded to me, you can carry it without any ill effects. And the Alliance won’t stop you.”
His expression shifted then. Standing this close, she could see the subtle differences between Rouland Blount II and Vayden Calder. Blount’s eyes were a true sky blue; Vayden’s held a darker tinge. A small scar marred Vayden’s hairline; Blount bore no blemishes. Blount’s face showed no signs of age; Vayden’s wrinkles showed his maturity.
“Is this your version of a peace treaty?” Blount asked.
“It is.”
“And your husband won’t mind giving you to me?”
