“What about Vaydy-boy and me?” Rafferty asked with a wily grin.
“Neither of you is invited.”
“What?” Rafferty demanded, incredulous.
“It’s a sacred ceremony,” Ilain returned, “not meant for prying eyes. If you aren’t part of the ceremony, you aren’t welcome.”
While Rafferty worked out a rebuttal, Ilain grabbed Evylin’s arm and, without another word, began to drag her away from the table. Impressed by the woman’s grip, Evylin could do little elsebut follow. She gave one last glance at Deckard, meeting his gaze for all of two seconds before Ilain had her out the door and in the hall.
With purpose, Ilain led her into the foyer, stopping to accept two parcels from Maurus before heading up the stairs. “We’ll have to hurry if we want to make it on time,” she instructed as they walked to Deckard and Evylin’s room.
“Exactly how involved a process is this?” Evylin asked.
“Not very,” she replied. “And it isn’t precisely necessary, just enjoyable. While you can Bond without the additional flair, this makes it all much more exciting. And the pomp and ceremony feels more official, wouldn’t you say?”
“I haven’t a clue what we’re doing, so no, I wouldn’t.”
Ilain chuckled, then unlocked the suite’s door and led Evylin in. She settled the parcels on the bed before charging about the space, preparing for whatever rigors she intended to put Evylin through. With a flick of her wrist, Ilain lit the stove in the corner. Then she found the bathing supplies in the wardrobe where Deckard had organized them.
“Ah.” Ilain shoved them into Evylin’s arms. “Here. Take your time, scrub every inch, and use this when you’re done.”
Evylin cautiously took the amber bottle, staring at the liquid inside. “What is this?” she asked.
Ilain smiled. “It’s perfumed oil. It’ll make you smoother than silk, and you’ll smell like a whole garden of primroses and Tanemisian cypresses for a week.”
Though she wasn’t sure what a cypress was, Evylin didn’t bother asking. “I bathed yesterday,” she said.
“So did I,” Ilain said. “That doesn’t mean I won’t be taking another.”
Shoved into the hall, Evylin had no choice but to listen to the woman’s instructions. She carefully swept her hair on top of her head, not bothering to wash it as she bathed. Once she driedoff, she applied the oil, finding the scent light, like springtime. It reminded her of running through the forest or tumbling down the hills of Whickam Village with Ryen as a child. Smiling as she tied off her robe, she decided to ask Ilain if she could keep it.
The second Evylin returned to the room, Ilain swooped over like a mother hen. “Sit there,” she instructed, pointing at the table by the stove, then taking the towel and other bathing supplies. “The tea is ready, and there’s a book on Bonding. Read it. I’m going to bathe.”
And with that, the door latched behind Ilain, leaving Evylin alone. She scanned the room. Draped across the bed were various garments, most in black but a few in white. She thought of perusing them but didn’t want to face Ilain’s wrath if she disturbed anything.
Taking her seat at the table, Evylin poured herself a cup of tea, then took up the book awaiting her.Attachments of the Soul, the leather cover read. The book was thin, no more than a hundred pages or so, and seemingly very old.
Opening the book, Evylin settled in. This was exactly what she’d been hoping for: a chance to learn about Bonding, to know what she and Deckard had agreed to. She turned to the first page, finding the lines tight and the writing cramped. A thin book it might be, but short it was not. That didn’t matter; Evylin loved to read. She often read novels five times this length. This should only take her a matter of a few hours at most.
Evylin read the first paragraph. Then she read it again. And again.
Frowning, Evylin narrowed her eyes on the text and tried to focus.
“In attaching the souls and creating a Bond of their hearts, we find Allore’s reflection in creation. The Children of the Creator were charged to bring hisbalance, to embody his power and beauty, to create as he created, and to reflect the resources of life, his holy frame. Upon the Bonding, we find strength and unity unlike any other. The Creation divinely wrought is brought into ultimate sanctification, a portrait of our holy father and his majesty. It is not without a fully completed crown of unified bodies that we can see the purest image of his might.”
Evylin set the book down, the ponderous text swirling in her head. She took a sip of tea, then picked the book up again, fighting to remain attentive and comprehend even a fraction of what she read. She’d only made it three pages by the time Ilain returned, and she thought she understood perhaps a handful of lines at best.
As Ilain entered, Evylin closed the book. She watched as her friend moved through the space, putting away the toiletries. “Ilain,” she called as the woman began to rummage around in one of the parcels, “why are we doing this?”
“Doing what?” Ilain asked distractedly.
“This,” Evylin said, gesturing to the room. “We’re leaving in the morning. We’re pressed for time. And yet, we’re taking hours to prepare for this ceremony as though...as though it’s a wedding.”
Ilain crossed the room, a brush in her hand. “Look forward,” she said, guiding Evylin’s gaze toward the wall. Then she took up a small section of hair, swiping the brush across it as she began to reply. “We are doing this, Evylin, because Bonding is sacred. It is a hallowed act in which few Mages or Warriors ever have the chance to partake.”
Evylin picked at the cover of the book, uncomfortable with all the religion associated with the ceremony.
“In fact,” Ilain continued, “you and Jonn are the first to Bond in well over five centuries.”
