Evylin shifted uncomfortably beside the Warrior. Thom’s hand was still limp in hers, though she could feel subtle signs of strength returning. “Ilain,” he said gently, “if anyone is to blame, it’s me. I was foolish. I thought I could get us out, but—”
“No, Thom,” Brea interrupted. “She’s right. I made a choice. I knew I could either save you or defend Auden. I did what I thought to be best.”
Ilain let out a haughty scoff. “You did what you wanted to do,” she accused. “You chose Thom because of your selfishness.”
Evylin frowned, and Thom’s hand twitched in hers.
Brea’s brow lowered. “I may not have wanted to be your brother’s sacrifice,” she said with a tense fury, “but I did not abandon him out of any ill will.”
“No,” Ilain agreed. “You did it out of your own personal desires.” Her voice rose as she held Brea’s stare accusingly. “You did it because you’re happy to let all of us sacrifice, but Allore forbid you have to make one of your own.”
Behind Ilain, Ethenn’s brow furrowed with the same confusion that Evylin felt. “What is—?” he began, but Isla interrupted.
“Ilain,” she said, her accent thicker than usual, “stop.”
She didn’t listen. “You abandoned Auden to his death because of your love for Thom.Te’caro.”
The allegation was so abrupt and so absurd that Evylin almost scoffed. But Brea sat rigid, her expression void of feeling even as her hand rested gently, caringly against Thom’s broken leg.
Evylin’s lips parted.Te’caro. She didn’t know the translation of the Schonese term, but she recognized the adjusted form of the originalmi’caro. She could readily divine the affectionate nature of the pet name.
But love . . . ?
They’d only known one another for a day before Brea began to use that term of endearment for Thom. Could she really have fallen in love with him so readily?
Thom shuddered, his broken body shivering with exhaustion, and Brea pulled her hand away from him. She rose to her feet, glaring at Ilain.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said flatly. “Your grief is blinding you, Ilain. I made the choice I thought was best. It was not my intent to abandon Auden. I had hoped that I could return to his side to protect him too. I’m sorry that I was wrong.”
With that, Brea turned and walked toward the far side of the entrance. She took a seat on the cold and shadowed staircase, staring at her hands. Isla squeezed Vayden’s arm, then hurriedafter her friend. The two women sat on the staircase, whispering unheard words as they wrapped their arms around one another comfortingly.
Vayden stood in the hall, watching his sister with a compassionate but broken gaze. Ilain, however, shook with anger. She looked ready to burst forth in a rage of flames, but then suddenly she crumpled, sobbing pitifully.
Without hesitation, Ethenn cradled her close, burying her face in his chest. He rocked her slowly and gently as his hand glided across her back.
Tears slipped from Evylin’s eyes at the sight. Deckard had held her that way after Hewitt’s death. He’d held her close and let her expel her grief until she lay there, an empty shell of pain. She knew Ilain’s sorrow, the gut-wrenching agony of knowing you’d never see your loved one again, knowing the world would never be right again—that you’d never again be whole.
A sudden urge swelled within Evylin. She needed Deckard; she needed the calm and comfort he provided to her. Yet, he lay unconscious a few feet away.
Evylin turned to see her sleeping husband. Rafferty and Vayden had laid him on his back so he could rest peacefully. With his eyes closed, breath steady, and body relaxed, he looked as though he’d simply chosen to nap. She reached out with her free hand, stiff with Thom’s drying blood, and brushed her fingers along his jaw.
Was this how Deckard would look if he died? She would never see his lifeless form, she realized. When he died—and hewoulddie, even if it were two centuries from now—she would either die with him or fall into a stasis to recover from the wound in her soul. When she awoke, he’d already be cold in his grave. It was somehow a bitterly sad and hopeful revelation.
The morbid thoughts drove Evylin to check Deckard’s pulse just to ensure that his life remained. It was strong and steady. He was fine. He was alive. And her heart ached to hold him.
Instead, she turned back to Thom. He’d closed his eyes, scrunching them shut. He appeared to be in miserable pain.
Rafferty crouched down next to them. “Hey, Thommy-boy,” he said. “Ready to set that leg?”
“Not if you’re going to do it,” Thom quipped, face still contorted.
Rafferty smirked. “Can’t blame ya. Fact is, I don’t even know how.”
“Then I definitely don’t want you attempting it.”
Evylin squeezed Thom’s hand. “I can do it.”
His eyes opened, meeting hers with sorrow. “I’m not going to be able to walk on it,” he said. “Probably not for a month or two at the least.”
