“You said your piece,” he interrupted. “You want me. Youloveme.” He said it with such derision that it was as if an arrow struck her heart. He shook his head, face burning fiery red. “You don’t know what love is.”
Ilain’s tears seared across her skin. Her lips parted around unspoken words, her heart too torn between anguish and fury to find her voice.
A breath shuddered from his lungs, and Ethenn turned. He put his hands on the windowsill, preparing to leap back out into the night.
“Ethenn—” Ilain rushed forward, but he was gone.
When she made it to the window, he was already dropping from a beam, landing lightly on the ground below. Then he took off into the night.
The truth crushed her. He didn’t believe her because he was right: Ilain hadn’t known what love was. She’d dreamed of it, imagined it, hoped for it. But she’d not known it. She’d played games with him, attempting to manipulate him into accepting her without ever being honest with him. Why should he believe her now?
Don’t let people know what you value, and they can’t take it away from you.
Dejectedly, Ilain backed away from the window, sinking onto the mattress. She stared through the window into the dark sky, unseeing as tears slipped down her cheeks. No matter his faults and unwillingness to listen, Ethenn was right.
Now, Ilain had lost her one chance at happiness because she’d been too afraid to let him know her true heart. She’d refrained from letting him know she valued him, hoping it would protect her. Yet, her one guiding principle had failed her, and he’d taken his love away regardless, leaving her with a broken heart anyway.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
21ST OF RADIA, 1574
Evylin and Deckard joined the troop again early the next morning. Serene and Jorge had showered them with hospitality the night before, asking them dozens of questions about the past several months of their lives. Skillfully, Deckard answered, cleverly avoiding the topic of magic and the specifics of their mission.
Serene lamented that they hadn’t known about their arrival earlier and, thus, were unable to have Evylin’s cousin and her husband, Nelle and Nixon, join for dinner. Evylin was glad, knowing how many more questions there would have been to field with Serene’s daughter in the mix. As it was, her aunt updated them on all the gossip of Trollenston and the Glaas family. Before the deluge of questions began, she and Jorge offered their sincere condolences on the loss of Hewitt. When Evylin asked how they’d heard, Serene said, “Your mother told me at Dolia’s wedding.”
Evylin furrowed her brow, baffled at how her mother had learned of the events. Seeing her confusion—or perhaps feeling it—Deckard leaned over and whispered, “I wrote to them after it happened.”
“You did?” Evylin replied in shock.
He gave a soft nod. “I’ve been keeping them mostly informed since we left. Same as my family.”
Evylin gaped at him then. He’d been writing to her family. She didn’t know whether to find the diligence sweet or absolutely ridiculous. But after an appropriate shower of condolences, Serene carried the conversation on, eager to fill them in on Dolia’s nuptials, so she and Deckard had not yet had the chance to discuss it further.
And in the bright, dawning morning, the troop left the town for Whickam Village.
It was half a day’s journey between the settlements, and Evylin knew it well. The once-familiar twists and turns in the road held a sudden and curious unfamiliarity. Each season, she’d traveled this very road with Hewitt, headed to and from Trollenston’s market. Every hillock and dale, every copse and glen—she knew them all. And yet, they seemed so foreign to her now.
Memories and distance caused a strange imbalance to unfurl within her. What had once been her homeland was now a novel sight. The sun crested over the eastern hills, gilding the emerald grasses, ivory sheep, ivy-covered trees, and the winding road. She’d forgotten how beautiful Estshire could be.
As the day wore on, Rafferty began asking Evylin about her old home. “When we passed through on our dear colonel’s jaunt, I hardly got to enjoy it, what with the duties at camp,” he lamented.
“What duties?” Thom sniped. “You never listened to a word I said.”
Their banter turned to reminiscing on their time in the Third Volunteer Company. Rafferty enjoyed regaling the Alliance folk with tales, though in the morning light, Ilain seemed abnormally disinterested. She rode beside Isla, her gaze on the horizon whilethe others laughed. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and she yawned regularly.
Evylin glanced back at where Ethenn’s horse walked next to Thom and Rafferty’s. Though he was often subdued in the mornings, the Warrior also looked abnormally tired.
Scrunching her nose, Evylin decided she didn’t care to dwell on what might have occurred to make the couple’s night particularly tiring.
Contenting herself with the distraction of Deckard’s company, Evylin turned to him. “Do you remember the last time we took this journey?” she asked, then added, “Though it was in the opposite direction.”
Deckard grinned at her. “Of course I do.” His fingers twitched where they rested on his saddle, but he didn’t reach across to touch her as she expected him to. “Things were quite different then.”
“You have a gift for understatement.”
He chuckled. “I remember being rather bemused at how I’d wound up winning so much as the loser of our bet.” At her arched brow, he clarified, “I’d gained a beautiful, witty wife who was better versed in swordplay than any man I knew. And all I had to do was take her on an adventure. Seemed like a lopsided deal to me.”
Evylin gave him a flirtatious smirk. “Yet, you didn’t bother to capitalize on your winnings for three months.”
