Tugging back on his reins, Deckard diverted his horse’s path. He excused himself from Evylin’s side and drifted next to where Thom rode with Vayden. They were discussing the Keeps and Thom’s experience as a non-magical individual.
Apologizing for interrupting, Deckard requested that Thom scout ahead with him. Though Vayden immediately acquiesced,Thom gave him a skeptical look. Still, he listened, guiding his horse away from the troop’s line to gallop ahead with Deckard.
They rode half a mile ahead before slowing to a trot.
“So,” Thom said with amusement. “What did you want to talk about?”
Deckard didn’t bother asking how he knew. They rarely bothered with scouting ahead; it’d been too dangerous in Wauld, and it would be altogether unnecessary in Ephria. The request had been a ploy, and there was no reason to deny it.
“Several things,” Deckard admitted. “Starting with how you’re doing. We haven’t had much conversation since our escape and your promise to stop trying to be me.”
Thom gave him a wry look.
“You seem to be doing better,” Deckard said. “But do you feel you are?”
With a deep inhale, Thom considered the question. Then he shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose I do,” he said. “It seems that after royally screwing things up, I’m not so afraid to make mistakes anymore because how could I ever top what I’ve already done? So being better isn’t quite so hard. Ican’tcompete with you. Why try? And surprisingly...” He smiled. “I don’t mind.”
Thom let out a self-derisive chuckle then. “It’s like I can be myself now because I find, after all, it’s impossible to be you. And when I try, I don’t like who I am. So why not be myself? Even if I’m not as good as you, I can’t be any worse than the man I am when I compete with my own brother.”
“You are neither better nor worse than I, Thom,” Deckard countered.
“But I am less than you.”
When Deckard began to protest, Thom lifted a hand. “I don’t mind, now that I’ve accepted reality,” he said genuinely. “You’re meant to change this world, Jonn. Men like you—they’re different. Small lives aren’t enough for them.”
Deckard felt his brow pinch, uncomfortable with the statement.
“But small has always been enough for me,” Thom continued. “I like being a soldier. I like the routine of it—the order of it. I like being given commands and following through on them. And I don’t mind being a lackey for my officers so long as they respect me and I can respect them. I only ever reached for more because I thought you’d never see me as a man of worth if I accepted life as a menial foot soldier.”
Steadily, Thom’s gaze held his, reassuring Deckard as he said, “I know better now. And I’m beginning to find that I can accept a life of less because I’m not made to save the world. I’m not a Mage or a Warrior. I’m only a man. And men like me aren’t meant for greatness.”
That sentiment Deckard couldn’t disagree with more. “Magical or not, you are no less capable of greatness than anyone else, Thom.” He paused, then realized by the look on his brother’s face that this wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Thom was through with aspiring to more; it had only led him to ruin. Now, he was only looking to redeem himself—not the world. Greatness couldn’t factor in at this point. Not when he needed to learn how to be happy first.
Deckard sighed and clapped a hand on Thom’s shoulder. “Ignore me,” he said. “I just want you to feel important because you are. To me, to Evylin, and to so many other people.”
“I don’t care about other people,” Thom said immediately, a smile on his face. “So long as you and Evie want me around, that’ll be enough.”
“I’m glad,” Deckard said. “We want you around for good. And if it ever gets too hard, or you feel like you’re slipping back to how things used to be—ifImake you feel less than—just let me know. I’m here for you, always.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
They rode in silence for a few moments, a strange comfort in the air between them. Their relationship had never felt like this. It had always been hard and fraught with challenges. Before, Deckard could only wish for casual and caring conversations, but now that they had them, it almost felt wrong to indulge in them while their mission loomed ahead.
Shifting in his saddle, Deckard decided to move on. “I was wondering,” he began, eyes on the road. “What are your thoughts about the Alliance?”
Thom was quiet for a moment. “I mean, they seem like a fine organization. A bit zealous perhaps but noble in their own way.”
Deckard turned to him. “But is that in a good way?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t trust them, Thom.”
His brother’s brow rose, but he didn’t say anything, so Deckard continued. “They say all the right things, proclaim all the right motives, profess the right faith. And yet, they’ve lied, manipulated, and even resorted to kidnapping to achieve their cause. How can those be the actions of a noble organization?”
Thom eyed him thoughtfully as their horses plodded onward. He tapped a finger on the saddle’s front. “Is this a genuine concern of yours?” he asked. “Or are you just worried they’ll press you into service as a king? Sorry—Highlord Chancellor, I believe Ilain called it.”
