CHAPTER FORTY-ONE #2
Vayden was a retired spy. Thom was a defecting captain. And they were both the “runts” of their impressive families.
The metaphor caused Thom’s brow to furrow. He glanced sidelong at Vayden, a sudden idea forming. “I have another question,” he said, tone curious.
Vayden sipped his ale casually. “What’s that?”
“You’re fluent in Schonese, right?”
A knowing glimmer came to Vayden’s eyes as he said, “My wife ensured it.”
“What does mi’caro mean?”
Vayden set his tankard on the bar, adjusting it so the handle was at an exact angle. He cleared his throat, and for a moment, Thom thought he might actually provide the answer. Then he said, “You’ll have to ask Brea about that.”
Thom pursed his lips in agitation. “She won’t talk to me.”
“Tells you something, doesn’t it?” Vayden said dryly.
“That she’s upset with me,” Thom concurred. “Though I don’t understand why. I don’t believe Ilain’s accusation. Whatever Brea’s feelings are toward me, they aren’t romantic. I know that.”
Vayden tapped his thumb against the rim of his tankard, studying Thom for several seconds.
“My wife,” he began at last, “has been best friends with Breata Lohen for over a decade now. By extension, I know many things about that woman that few others have had the privilege to learn. She is as wonderfully complicated as any other female. And she has a past just as complex. I would not advise assuming you understand her based on your limited acquaintance.”
Thom held the man’s gaze pointedly, leaning in to whisper, “She told me that she’s in love with another man.”
“Did she?” Vayden’s eyes drifted away in thought before returning to meet his again. “What did she say exactly?”
Thom struggled to remember. “Not much, actually. I guessed it, and she asked me not to tell anyone because it was personal, and she didn’t care to be that vulnerable with the others. Though she told me that you and Isla already knew.”
Vayden nodded with understanding. “So she didn’t mention anything about the man in question?”
A strange interest sprang up in Thom, his brow rising. “Are you going to tell me about him?”
Vayden laughed instantly. “Not if a demolobis dragged me to hell.”
Thom’s hope deflated. “Because if she found out, it’d be worse than the fiery pits?”
Vayden shook his head. “I’m allergic to dogs.”
Thom’s laugh rang out then, but his thoughts wouldn’t be diverted from the information he sought.
He took a swig of his ale, subduing his amusement with its robust malt.
When he turned to Vayden again, the serious expression had returned to his face.
“Why is she punishing me for something that isn’t true? ” he asked.
For several seconds, Vayden stared into his cup. He seemed to consider his words with extreme care, alerting Thom to his deep caution in handling the subject. Was it out of fear of betraying Brea’s confidence? Or was the truth simply beyond what Thom could understand?
Either way, it made him profoundly uneasy.
Finally, Vayden spoke. “As one of the few who understands Brea’s heart,” he met Thom’s gaze pointedly, “allow me to inform you that she doesn’t behave illogically. She’s not punishing you. She’s protecting herself. And you should respect that even if you don’t understand it.”
Thom frowned, utterly bemused. Brea was protecting herself. From what?
Regardless of his confusion, Thom accepted the man’s advice. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll, uh . . . I’ll take that into consideration.”
Vayden dipped his head and turned back to his drink.
Thom ran a hand over his mouth. Brea is protecting herself, he thought again.
He couldn’t fathom why she’d need to protect herself from him.
They were friends, or so he’d thought. He had imagined that he’d proved his loyalty to her by keeping her secret and through his general companionship.
Yet, she still felt the need to push him away now.
Why?
Thom threw back the last of his ale. He thought to call Tilda to pour him another, but Rafferty seemed to be making good progress with the lass, so he left his friend to his wooing.
Whatever his bewilderment at Brea’s rejection of him, he would accept it for now.
As Vayden suggested, he would respect her decision.
Though he wouldn’t abandon their friendship for lost, he wouldn’t push her or demand her attention either.
He’d let time take its course, sorting out the awkward feelings of grief and guilt that currently stilted their camp.
In the meantime, he had bigger topics to ponder, like his own life purpose. “How do you best want to serve this world?” Hewitt had asked him. That was a question Thom had never considered.
Service was Deckard’s territory. Thom spent his life wondering how the world could serve him.
Now, he was left with the sudden realization that taking from others wasn’t enough. Rafferty wasn’t entirely wrong in his earlier assessment of life. No, it wasn’t about earning money, notoriety, or respect. But it was about leaving an impact.
“How do you best want to serve this world?”
Thom didn’t know.
But he was determined to find out.