CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
While her husband went off to handle whatever task was on his mind, Evylin and Thom remained at the table with Rafferty.
The conversation remained casual, helping distract them from the weight of the past two days.
Evylin felt strangely sensitive to Auden’s death, having gone through a similar experience to Ilain and Vayden’s grief two months ago.
The knowledge of Hewitt’s impending release didn’t help matters.
After some time, Thom nudged Evylin, informing her that the thirty minutes Deckard had asked them to wait had expired.
Leaving Rafferty behind, they headed up the staircase and down the simple, clean hall to her and Deckard’s room.
He was already inside when they entered, reading one of the books Obel had given him.
“Were you just reading this whole time?” Thom asked.
Deckard shook his head. “I had a conversation with Brea first.”
“Oh.” Thom shut the door behind him, his movements suddenly stiff. “Did that, uh . . . go well?”
Evylin shared a knowing look with Deckard. She removed her coat while he replied, “It did. Now,” he closed his book, “sit down, and we’ll have a talk with Hewitt.”
Doing as ordered, Thom sat in the upholstered chair tucked into the corner. Evylin perched next to Deckard on the edge of the mattress. And not a moment later, Hewitt was there, standing amidst the furnishings and papered walls.
His bushy eyebrows rose as he took in the three of them. “How long has it been this time?” he asked, voice a low rumble.
“What do you mean?” Deckard asked.
“Well, time’s different over here,” he explained. “I can’t tell how many days it’s been, but this stint was longer than the last.”
“Over there?” Thom repeated curiously. “What exactly is it like . . . wherever you are?”
Hewitt looked to a vacant corner in thought. “Empty. It isn’t a place so much as a shadow. There’s no time, no use of the senses, no nothing. I’m just waiting.”
“That sounds horrible,” Evylin whispered. She couldn’t fathom being left so isolated and cut off from the world. It made her want to cling to her uncle and never let him return to that awful place.
Casually, Hewitt shrugged. “It isn’t so bad. It gives me space to rest and think. And as I said, I can’t tell how many hours or days pass between our meetings, so I don’t mind.”
“I’m sorry to leave you there, in any case,” Deckard said. “As it is, only three days have passed this time. However . . .”
Hewitt narrowed his eyes, catching the heavy tone. “I miss all the fun,” he commented dryly. “What catastrophe are you to recount today?”
Evylin and Thom let Deckard explain while they each gave context or clarification to the moments he missed.
He took the blame for Auden’s death, to which Thom argued that he was truly at fault.
Evylin reminded them both that no one was Auden’s killer.
He’d died because they were all risking their lives.
Any one of them could have been sucked into that infinite void.
When Deckard insisted that improved control over his magic would have kept them from the predicament altogether, she had no logical arguments left.
Hewitt stroked his beard thoughtfully. “You can’t control it at all?” he asked.
Deckard shrugged. “Sometimes, it seems that I can, but in that Keep . . .” He cast a sidelong glance at Evylin. “It drew on my power, just like the Relic she wears does now. I want to access it, to let it consume me again. And it takes great effort to resist.”
“What do the Mages think of this?”
“They don’t seem overly concerned. Though I don’t understand why. I’m a danger,” he said. “To all of us.”
Evylin frowned, saddened to hear his true opinion of his power.
However, Hewitt only let out a grunt. “When will you learn to stop taking responsibility for all of Terraeus?” he said, and Thom smirked. “I told you at my grave: Stop blaming yourself for other people’s choices.”
“That isn’t exactly relevant when it’s my powers that are causing the problems,” Deckard returned in agitation.
Knowing that arguing would resolve nothing, Evylin spoke up. “We have other issues to discuss,” she said. The men acquiesced to her. “First, I believe Thom has something he wants to ask you.”
Thom straightened then. “Yes,” he said. “I was hoping . . . When we spoke before, you told me to find a purpose. I thought I had done so by protecting Deckard and Evie and helping them find happiness.”
Evylin and Deckard shared a soft, bemused look.
“But now,” Thom continued, “I realize I’m not qualified for the job. And I’m more likely to get myself killed trying.” He took a deep breath. “So now I need a new purpose.”
“And you want me to give one to you?” Hewitt surmised.
Thom ran a hand through his hair. “I want you to advise me. How do I find what I’m meant to do with my life?”
“Generally,” Hewitt replied, “it finds you.”
“That’s not helpful.”
Evylin chuckled as the slightest grin tugged on her uncle’s lips. “What do you want to do, Thom?” he asked rhetorically. “How do you best want to serve this world? Answer that question, and you’ll find your purpose.”
Thom frowned, his thoughts visibly turning, but nodded. “Thanks,” he murmured.
Hewitt returned the nod, then faced Evylin. “What else would you like to discuss?” he asked.
She took a deep breath. “We’re on our way to Estshire,” she said. “Which means we’re less than a week from your graveside.”
“Which means,” he concluded, “that we have less than a week left together.”
“Yes.”
“We ought to make the most of it, then.”
Deckard’s hand brushed Evylin’s arm, and she felt his fingers twitch, resting on her arm more loosely than normal.
“As we’ll be staying in inns along the way, I’ll have to include you after dinner exclusively.
I can’t keep you summoned while I’m training, and keeping you visible during travel is too taxing.
Which likely means you’ll only be seeing the three of us most nights. ”
“You’re the only ones I care to see anyway.”
They fell into other, easier topics. They discussed Deckard’s surprising new powers as well as Evylin’s discovery in the Keep.
“I don’t know how,” she said, “but I managed to tap into Jonn’s power.
With the Relic’s help, I summoned the same onyx crystals to defend me. It wasn’t quite the same, but . . .”
“It was Space magic,” Thom confirmed.
“That’s surprising,” Hewitt remarked. “Though not unwelcome.”
Deckard drew a hand along his jaw. “Is that supposed to happen?” he asked.
Evylin shrugged. “I know as much about Bonding as you,” she said.
But her thoughts drifted back to the book Ilain had given her about the union of Warrior and Mage.
She wondered if it explained the phenomenon.
Was accessing your partner’s power expected of a Bonded couple?
Suddenly, she felt careless for neglecting her studies.
After more than an hour of conversation, Thom departed.
Hewitt said his goodnights, and Deckard released him back into the shadow wherein he would linger until summoned again.
Suddenly, the room felt empty and quiet without the other men present.
Deckard drifted across the room to where the saddlebags rested on the chest of drawers, his mood contemplative and somber.
Evylin knew he was uncomfortable with her choice to keep the Space Relic on her person.
Ever since the morning, she’d noticed how he kept his distance.
It felt wrong, this new chasm between them.
She understood that it wasn’t a rejection of her—he was afraid of giving in to the pull of Space. Yet, it felt like a rejection.
Evylin had chosen to keep the Relic because she knew it would be best for Deckard.
He needed to face this fear, to come to a place of peace with his magic despite how much he wished to be rid of it.
And she knew that no matter how subconscious it was, if Deckard kept pulling away from her because of the Relic, he would eventually grow to resent her choice to carry it.
They readied for bed in tense silence. Deckard was pointedly careful not to touch her as they stood side by side at the drawers, changing into their nightclothes.
After brushing out her hair, Evylin replaced the brush in her saddlebag, her fingers brushing the leather spine of the thin Bonding book still within.
At her side, Deckard methodically set out his clothes for the morning.
Evylin watched him in her peripheral vision and withdrew the book.
She passed her fingers over the embossed title.
Guilt gnawed at her, reminding her that they all had reason to blame themselves for a part in Auden’s death.
If she had studied this book, perhaps she could have helped prevent Deckard’s lapse in control.
“Jonn?” she whispered, eyes on the cover.
He turned, folding his trousers. “Yes?”
Evylin moved to sit on the bed, letting a deep sigh escape her. “I have a confession.”
He raised his brow.
Evylin bit her lip and held out the book. “Ilain gave this to me,” she explained, “when we Bonded. She told me that it was important. Yet, I’ve not read it.”
Carefully, Deckard stacked the trousers beneath his shirt and coat for the morning, then accepted the book. He examined its cover. “Attachments of the Soul,” he read aloud. “Why haven’t you read it?”
Evylin grimaced. “It isn’t my kind of book.”
“It’s nonfictional, then,” he remarked with amusement, thumbing the pages. “The print is quite small.”
“And it’s laborious writing.”
“Mm.” He met her gaze. “Are you asking me to read it?”
“No—I mean—” Evylin sighed again. “Ilain told me we both need to read it, so yes, I suppose in a way I am, but . . . it’s more that I’m asking that you help me read it. I struggle to pay attention, but I believe it could help us. So I want to give it a try.”
Deckard smiled and handed the book back to her. “In that case,” he turned to the bed, pulled back the covers, adjusted the pillow, and sat down, “come here.”
Evylin raised her brow but obeyed, crawling over the blankets. “Are we to snuggle?” she teased.
“It will likely make the process easier,” he said, settling against the pillows. However, when Evylin joined him beneath the covers, she noticed that his frame immediately tightened at her nearness.
Evylin tried not to be disheartened.
Deckard cleared his throat and held a hand out for the book once more. “Let’s read it together,” he suggested.
“Are you going to tutor me?”
He chuckled tightly. “Should you like me to?”
Evylin lifted his arm to drape over her shoulders. She kissed his jaw, noting how sternly it was clamped shut. “Help me understand, husband,” she quipped.
Despite his tension, Deckard’s smile was genuine. He shook his head in amusement and opened the book. “In attaching the souls and creating a Bond,” he began, “we find Allore’s reflection in creation.”
Deckard’s warm voice swept over Evylin, and contentment built within her.
He read the first paragraph, then stopped to consider it before restating it in his own words.
At first, Evylin thought he was just doing it for her, but when he lamented not having a notebook to write out his thoughts, she realized reiterating the text was a means of understanding it better himself.
They didn’t read long, and Deckard remained tense for the entirety of it, but even as Evylin began to drift off while he read, she felt they’d made a reasonable effort.
She already understood better than before.
And together, she knew, they would glean all the information this burdensome book offered.
Their Bond would be stronger than ever, and she would find a way to help Deckard control his magic.
And as they settled in to sleep in one another’s arms, Evylin whispered her promise once more, “I will not let you fail, my love.”
Deckard pressed his forehead against hers. His muscles were still tight and rigid, and she could tell he was fighting the urges within him. But a gentle wash of love swept between them as he replied, “I know.”