“No?”
“Too religious,” he remarked. “Even if I’dtriedto kiss her, she would have slapped me across the face.”
Thom scowled dramatically. “No, that won’t do at all. She’d never put up with my debauchery.” He snapped his fingers then. “Say, I heard Ethenn mention a sister the other day. Maybe I’ll see if she’s available. Surely, with his pretty face, she’s got to be a looker.”
“Ah, yes, imagine the pleasant Annaltide feasts you’d share. You’d have to let Ethenn carve the roast, of course. He will be king, I hear.”
“Highlord Commander, I believe,” Thom corrected. “But no, you have a point. I don’t think I’d like being related to Ilain, by marriage or not. Might make things awkward knowing I’d once flirted with my sister-in-law.”
“You’ve already flirted with your sister-in-law.”
Thom grimaced. “I’d rather not go for the set.”
They rode in pleasant silence for a few moments. Then Deckard turned to him again. “You’re worth more than that, Thom,” he said.
Thom blinked, confused.
“You shouldn’t seek marriage to quell your loneliness any more than you should seek obscurity to mask your fear of responsibility.” Deckard held his gaze, brotherly affection bright within. “You are worth so much more.”
Uncertain, Thom dipped his chin. He wanted to believe his brother, but he couldn’t. Because if hewasmore, then that meant he had tobemore. And he was growing weary of trying to measure up to the high expectations of himself and others.
“I don’t want to be more, Jonn,” he said. “I just want to be me.”
Deckard’s whole countenance softened. His eyes dimmed, and his lips turned down. “What if they’re the same thing?” he asked.
That possibility Thom hadn’t considered.
With a reluctant grin, he replied, “Then don’t tell me. After nearly losing my guts and bleeding out on the Space Keep’s floor, I’m about ready to live in blissful ignorance.”
Deckard chuckled lightly and reached over to clasp his shoulder. They shared a smile and a long look before turning back to the road. A cool spring breeze swept through, rattling the lush tree branches. A hawk sailed overhead, seeking mice in the vast fields around them. To the west lay the mountains they left behind, and to the southeast awaited the forests and, beyond them, the Shires.
They were returning to the very beginning of their journey, and Thom couldn’t help hoping it was symbolic.
After making so many mistakes and experiencing so much loss, he needed a fresh start. He wanted to begin again. And more than anything, he wished to be enough—not as a hero, not as a soldier. He simply desired to be a man. Whatever that meant for his purpose in life, he didn’t know.
Thom turned to Deckard. “Do you think I could talk to Hewitt tonight?”
“Of course.” Deckard smiled. “Though I’ll need the Night Relic returned to manage it.”
“With pleasure.” Thom tugged at his collar, where the Relic hung concealed. “This bloody thing is rubbing my neck raw.”
Though Thom wasn’t sure what he hoped Hewitt would tell him, he needed the man’s advice. Only days ago, he thought he could spend his life in service to Deckard and Evylin. Now, he worried that he’d never be enough for them. Deckard had fallen to Space, and Thom had been unable to do anything. He’d tried to get Evylin to safety, and he’d practically left her to die alongside himself.
Whatever his purpose, Thom needed help finding it. Because if it was left up to him, he feared that next time, his delusion would get them all killed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Given how long it took to get to Bewold, there was no time for training that night.
Having lost two days due to their time in Loclight, the troop had to move with urgency to reach the Terrae Keep before Blount. However, they all agreed they couldn’t push so hard as to wear down the horses, which they couldn’t afford to replace regularly, nor themselves.
With the final Keep and the confrontation with Blount looming in their future, they need to arrive with full strength, prepared to take on the Night Mage. Even if Blount beat them to the Relic, they all needed to continue their training, magical and otherwise, to ensure their success against the prince. And if his dream and the constant luring pulse of Space from the Relic around Evylin’s neck were any indication, Deckard needed that training more desperately than them all.
The village of Bewold was reasonably sized, larger than both Stocburrough and Whickam Village. As one of the few waypoints to and from the capital city, it boasted three separate taverns that doubled as inns. This provided them with the extra rooms they needed, and they reserved one for each couple, one for Thom and Rafferty, and one for Brea alone. She insisted onpaying for her room, and Deckard allowed it, but he carefully observed the location of the room the barkeep assigned to her.
Despite the late hour, there were many patrons in the tavern. Ilain was clearly too emotionally run down to sit among the loud chatter, so she and Ethenn ordered their meals and left to eat in their room. Rafferty found a table big enough for the seven remaining members of their party near the back of the room, but Brea slipped away, choosing isolation as well.
Deckard watched her go but said nothing.
