CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN #2
Thom frowned. Why was she so agitated with him? He, too, was worried about Deckard. Why couldn’t she see that?
“Evie, for once in my life, I’m not talking as the jealous brother.” He set his hands upon her arms, hoping she’d see the truth in his eyes. He could feel his face contort as he did everything possible to convey his fears. “I don’t want to lose him.”
Evylin flinched as though he’d slapped her. Her muscles tensed under his grasp.
“I’m scared, Evylin,” Thom said, the words a frightened whisper.
He felt so much like a youth again, watching his brother walk away from Stocburrough—from him—without ever glancing back.
“What if this magic destroys him from the inside out? I don’t want to watch my brother descend into madness.
For all my resentment of him . . . I love him. ”
She just stared at him, chewing on her bottom lip.
“If this magic can turn Jonn into a murderer,” Thom said fiercely, “then we can’t lose him to it.”
Evylin pulled out of his grasp and pressed a hand to her forehead. “I know,” she murmured.
Thom could have dropped to the terrae and wept with relief to hear he wasn’t alone in this battle for his brother’s sanity. “What are we going to do?” he asked.
“There isn’t anything we can do,” she returned, letting down his hopes. “Auden and Ilain are helping him get control of it. That’s the solution, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” Thom doubted it could be so simple. “If he’s a Night Mage, doesn’t that mean he’ll spend his whole life connecting with that resource more and more, getting closer and closer to insanity?”
“Ilain said that—”
“I know what she said,” he interrupted. “And sure, maybe some Night Mages can handle their powers, but, Evie, this is Jonn. He killed twelve people—”
“Thirteen.”
Thom gaped at her.
Evylin sighed. “Ethenn must have miscounted, or he just estimated. It was thirteen, including the woman.”
Including the woman.
Deckard would never harm a woman. His scruples wouldn’t allow it, even if she threatened his life.
Though in this case, it wasn’t Deckard’s life she’d threatened . . . It was Evylin’s. And Deckard would do anything—absolutely anything—for Evylin.
“That’s far worse,” Thom said, the full understanding of their situation coming to light.
She shrugged. “In all our travels, I’ve killed that many and more by now.”
“Have you counted every life you’ve taken?”
“No.”
“He has.”
“I know.”
Thom ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t you understand how that will affect him?
If Night magic can make him that merciless in the moment, he will crumble when he comes out from under its hold.
You heard what he said: It controlled him.
It overrode his judgment, turning him into a cold-blooded killer. Jonn can’t live with that.”
Evylin began to tug on her wedding rings but didn’t speak.
“Even if this ‘Deep’ doesn’t take over,” Thom concluded, “he will go mad simply to protect himself from the pain of knowing what the magic made him do.”
She tightened her jaw, eyes dropping to the ground.
“There couldn’t be a worse person to become a Night Mage.”
Evylin tossed her hands to the side, exasperated. “What do you want me to do about it?” she demanded, the words coming out shaky. Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. “I’m still grieving, Thom. I’m barely holding on, and now—”
Hurrying forward, Thom gripped her arms again, determined not to let her succumb to another panic attack. “I’m not asking you to do anything,” he promised.
“Then what do you want?”
Thom opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. What did he want? Why had he brought this up in the first place? To find someone to commiserate with? To hear his fears validated? Or did he simply want to know he wasn’t alone?
“I want to protect my brother,” Thom said.
Evylin stared up at him despondently. “And how can I help you with that?”
Reluctantly, Thom whispered, “You’re his wife. He loves—”
“Stop,” Evylin snapped. She jerked out of his touch, and her rich brown eyes turned cold and impassive. “That has never been part of our relationship, and you know it.”
Thom hated the flare of hope that whispered lies to his heart.
Though he was sure Deckard loved Evylin, and he’d thought he’d seen her affections growing with the same regard, was there a chance he’d been wrong?
He knew her grief drove them apart, but he always imagined they’d grow back together as she healed. But what if . . . ?
Thom forced himself to ignore those thoughts. He ground his teeth but worked out the reply, “Maybe not for you.”
“And what?” she shot back. “Would you have me coddle him? Should I tell him that it’s not so bad, killing thirteen people like it’s a stroll through the market? Perhaps I can absolve him of his guilt—turn him cruel and calculating like me.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Evie,” Thom retorted. “I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m simply saying that he would do anything for you, even if it takes killing a hundred people to do it.”
Evylin’s mouth parted in shock. “So you’re blaming me for this?”
“No!” Thom didn’t know where he’d gone so wrong. Why was she reacting so defensively? This wasn’t like the Evylin he knew.
Hoping to repair the damage, Thom took a step closer. “No, Evylin, I’m not—all I’m saying is that he cares about you. And regardless of how you feel about him, he trusts you. He relies on you. Together, you and I can protect him. I believe that.”
“Protect him from madness?”
“Yes.”
She eyed him. “That could be accomplished if he stopped being a Mage.”
Thom furrowed his brow. “We’ve already established that that’s not a possibility. Haven’t we?”
“Perhaps. But after all this ends, what is there to keep him living as a Mage? He could put it behind him and go back to being a soldier.”
“Doesn’t the Alliance have some sort of plans for you two?” Thom asked begrudgingly.
“I don’t care what the Alliance wants,” Evylin said, firm and resolute. “I’m not Bonding with him or anyone else.”
“All right.” He held up his hands in surrender. “But aren’t you worried about him?”
Evylin’s expression pinched. “Yes, but . . .” The words came out in a pained whisper. Then she shook her head. “I can’t figure this out now, Thom. There’s already too much. . . .”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. He knew perfectly well.
Cautiously, Thom reached out. He set a hand on her shoulder, telling himself that it was what a friend would do. He brushed his thumb across the firm musculature there, promising himself that it was a brother’s comfort he was offering.
“I know,” he said weakly. “And maybe you’re right. Maybe we only need to watch Jonn and keep his hands as clean as possible. Then this will all go away once we get these damned Relics out of our lives.”
Evylin placed her hand on his, a silent gesture of gratitude.
“Maybe,” he gave her a sad smile, “we can go back to how everything was before.”
Evylin didn’t agree, but neither did she deny what they both knew: Going back was impossible. Hewitt was gone. Deckard was a Mage. Evylin was a Warrior. Nothing could be like it had been for them.
Only Thom remained the same. Only he was stuck in a perpetual unremarkable existence. He could return to life as a common soldier. He could go back to the drudgery and loneliness of his previous life because he was no more special than anyone else.
Not wanting to consider how inferior he was to his brother anymore, Thom pulled away from Evylin. “We should keep scouting,” he said.
At her nod, they moved on. They followed their route back west toward camp. But even as the light began to fade, Thom’s worries didn’t ease.
Whatever grief plagued Evylin, keeping her idle, Thom held no such impediment. He might not be special. He might never be deserving of people’s respect and admiration. He might resent his brother until his dying breath . . .
But he’d be damned if he didn’t keep Deckard from madness.