Ethenn imagined his uncle was right about that. He’d gambled and fought. He’d leched—though not egregiously. He’ddrunk to excess. He’d murdered. Allore wouldn’t want a soul as black as his.
“A few reasons,” Ethenn answered at last. “They all come down to the same thing, though. I’m not the right man for the job.”
Deckard was silent, taking that in. Then he countered, “Did you ask her opinion on that matter?”
Ethenn couldn’t help his bitter scoff. “I did not.”
“Don’t you think she deserves the chance to decide for herself?”
“I think she deserves a man whom sheloves.” Ethenn grimaced. “Or, more appropriately, a man who helps her realize there’s more to life than getting her way. She’s a politician. I’m a hunter. I can’t be the man who stands by her side at the head of a kingdom or whatever Allund will be. But there has to be someone out there who can do thatandmake her better. I just realized that man isn’t me.”
Deckard hummed in thought.
“You warned us of this,” Ethenn said. “You told me that a one-sided affection placed additional strain on a marriage. You said I lacked the intensity and shrewdness that she required.” He breathed out a self-derisive chuckle. “You were right.”
He heard Deckard shift behind him. “May I offer you new advice?” he asked.
Ethenn shrugged but welcomed whatever the colonel could offer him.
“Why do you love her?”
Hesitating, Ethenn looked over his shoulder. “That’s a question, not advice.”
Deckard grinned. “The question informs the advice.”
Accepting it, Ethenn took a deep breath. His heart bled, thinking of her fondly, but he answered it anyway. “She’s a liar,” he said. “Everything she presents about herself isn’t real. She’sgentle, reserved, and tender. She’s fragile. And I think...I love therealIlain Calder. Not the brash, flippant Mage she presents to the world—though, I love that version, too, for other reasons.”
Ethenn shook his head, staring up at the golden sun. “She deserves someone who makes her feel safe,” he said. “Someone who can help her become that soft, compassionate version of herself. I thought maybe I could do it, but....”
After realizing that Ethenn didn’t intend to finish that statement, Deckard spoke. “What makes you think you can’t?”
Ethenn smiled sadly. “Because I’m not safe.”
He turned, swinging his legs back up so he could face Deckard. “I killed a man when I was sixteen,” he confessed. “It was in the fighting pits, so nothing was done about it. It’s an unspoken rule that stepping into the ring is forfeiting your life, as the clubs are illegal in the first place. You can’t get the law involved without ratting on yourself. During that fight, the man kept taking cheap shots, and I’d already been angry because my uncle—” He cut himself off, not caring to admit his uncle’s abuse to Deckard.
Clearing his throat, he began again. “I went into the fight angry, and I just kept getting angrier. Oftentimes, fighting makes it worse. The more I hit, the more I want to hit. Now that I know what I am, I guess it’s the magic egging me on, but—” He licked his lips, but they still felt parched. “I punched the man so hard, he collapsed. I heard someone say something about a brain hemorrhage, though I don’t know what that means. He was dead by the time he hit the floor. It’s how I got the nickname ‘Slayer.’”
Deckard listened with a strange expression. It was something between shock, disappointment, and pity.
Ethenn hated it.
Tightening his jaw, he got to the point. “I’m dangerous,” he concluded. “After that incident, I was able to keep it together for a while. Occasionally, I’d slip up and cause serious injury, but Inever killed anyone else. Then I nearly killed my brother-in-law. I nearly killed Thom too. All because I got so angry that I lost control.”
He met Deckard’s wary gaze. “So you see, don’t you?” he asked. “You see why I can’t be the right man for her. I’m notsafe. How could I ever make her feel cared for enough to let go and be herself? How could I presume to be worthy to lead this nation beside her?”
A long silence passed as Deckard considered Ethenn’s words. The wind rustled the tree a few feet away while the ocean rumbled far below. The colonel broke the pause. “Does she make you better?”
Ethenn blinked. “You mean, does she take the anger away?”
Deckard nodded.
He grimaced. “Sometimes.”
“Perhaps that’s enough,” Deckard said thoughtfully. He met Ethenn’s gaze with a dry grin. “I presume you know that my wife is friends with Ilain.”
Ethenn scoffed wryly. “I’ve become aware of the fact.”
“They talk.”
