“Should I have any more trouble from you,” the Night Mage growled, “I will let my men carve him apart one limb at a time. Understood?”
Evylin dipped her chin, anger racing through her. “Yes,” she said flatly.
“Good.” He tugged her along behind him. “Sirraus, are we ready?”
“As much as we can be,” Obel said. “We need the final details from Highlady Calder.”
“Then get it,” Blount said testily. He pulled Evylin up the dais steps toward the throne.
Obel dragged Ilain with him. “We have a Mage of each resource and two moonstones—one white, one black,” he told her. “But what else are we lacking?”
Ilain’s brow furrowed, staring up at Obel. “What are you talking about?”
“The Bonding ceremony,” Obel said, impatient. “We have the Mages and moonstones. What else do we require for you to Bond His Majesty, King Rouland Blount II, to Private Evylin Deckard?”
Ilain gaped at the duke while Evylin’s breath caught. Blount intended to Bond with her at that very moment. He couldn’t because she was already Bonded, but he would figure that out soon enough.
Then a more startling revelation came to her: Obel was at her and Deckard’s Bonding ceremony. He knew what they needed just as well as Ilain.
The duke was playing Blount.
Suddenly, Evylin felt a wave of focus sweep through the room and the moonstone ring that pressed against her collarbone on the silver chain vanished. Her body thrummed with power, responding to Deckard’s rising magic. She glanced over her shoulder to find him watching her, but his expression was impassive.
He already had a plan.
“I won’t do it,” Ilain spat, jerking in Obel’s grasp.
“If you don’t,” Blount said, “I will kill your only remaining brother.”
Ilain glanced at Vayden. She hesitated, but Evylin knew she must understand the truth as well. She knew Obel was on their side. The tide had turned in their favor. They just had to play along until the opportune moment.
“Now,” Blount said sharply, “tell us what we’re missing.”
Ilain paused, her acting surprisingly strong. “I—” She glanced at Evylin. “I’m sorry.”
Evylin chewed on her bottom lip, not trusting herself to play her own role well.
Ilain turned to Obel. “Two Warriors,” she said. “One male, one female.”
Blount laughed. “How perfect.” He beckoned to the men holding Ethenn and Brea. “Bring them forward.”
“We—we’re not dressed right,” Ilain argued. “This is to be a sacred event. There are protocols and rituals. And there are far too many people here. The ceremony is meant to be intimate and holy. You must treat it as such if you want me to proceed.”
Blount gave her a bored stare. “I’m not sending away my men to give you better odds at fighting me. Perform the ceremony, or I will start killing your friends one at a time.”
Subdued, Ilain pressed her lips together and gave a tense nod. She guided them each into the proper positioning, with Blount and Evylin facing one another, the eight Mages—including Obel—behind them. Ethenn and Brea stood on either side of Ilain, along with all their guards.
“You can’t wear the Relics,” Ilain said then.
Blount scoffed. “Do not play games with me, Highlady.”
“I’m not,” she said fiercely. “Their magic will impede the union. If you want a secure Bond, you’ll remove them. Otherwise, it will fail to take hold.”
Blount looked at Obel for confirmation. “I have not studied the institution enough to know whether or not it is true, Your Majesty,” the duke said.
With a sharp nod, Blount gestured to the guards holding Thom. One of them took out a dagger and drove it into his gut.
Evylin sucked in a shallow breath as Deckard called in panic to his brother. Thom slumped forward, blood rapidly staining his coat. Brea looked ready to fight the entire room to get to him. Ethenn and Rafferty gaped with panic on their faces.
