CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX #2
“If you’re a Warrior married to a Mage,” she added, “you certainly can’t be.”
“I know.”
“So what? Are you . . . planning on offering yourself to Ilain?” she asked skeptically.
“No,” Ethenn said, his denial almost too quick to be believed. “No, I just know I can’t return to who I was before this. And I suppose I wanted to know that pursuing this life isn’t something to regret.”
“I’m not the person to answer that, Ethenn,” she warned. “I regret everything.”
“Because of Hewitt?” he asked gently.
“Yes.” It was the only answer she had. The only one that mattered.
Evylin regretted everything because her choice, her blind dedication to keeping Ryen alive, had led to her losing Hewitt.
If she could go back to the beginning, to that moment when she sat at her cousin’s grave and whispered into the cold night, she would tell herself not to make that damning promise.
“It isn’t worth it,” she would say. “Losing him isn’t worth what you’ll gain. ”
A sting of bitterness pierced through Evylin’s heart. She’d lost Ryen. She’d lost Hewitt. In exchange, she’d simply gained another man she’d inevitably lose.
“Evie?”
Ethenn’s voice broke her out of her downward spiral. She looked up, realizing her vision was blurred with tears. He stood there, dark hair hanging in his eyes as he watched her warily.
“I know I’m the kid no one takes seriously,” he said with a softness she wasn’t used to in his expression. “But trust me, you wouldn’t be happier if you could go back.”
Evylin raised her chin, wondering how he knew her thoughts.
With a sigh, Ethenn gave her a sad smile. “We left for a reason, you and I,” he said. “I’m not sure what yours was, but . . . If Hewitt thought it was reason enough to marry you to Deckard and come out of retirement to travel the country with you, then it had to be important.”
Though Ethenn’s words held unexpected wisdom, Evylin’s mind stuck on his awareness of their arrangement. “How did you—?”
“It wasn’t exactly hard to figure out.” His smile grew wry. “Rafferty got Thom drunk enough months ago to worm the information out of him. We’ve known since Stoclund.”
Evylin’s lips parted in shock. “And you didn’t say anything?”
Ethenn laughed. “Why would we? So you got married for convenience? There are worse reasons to get married.”
Despite herself, Evylin grinned. She slugged him in the shoulder. “Then you know you’re wrong about us.”
He scoffed. “And I’m six feet tall.”
Pointedly glaring up at his singular inch over her own five foot, six inch frame, Evylin raised her eyebrows.
“See?” he said dryly. “I can lie too.”
Now, he reminded Evylin far too much of Ryen. “Since when have you been sarcastic?” she asked, a bittersweet amusement filling her.
His smile lit up his face. “I’ve been spending my days with you. What do you expect?”
“You have a point,” she conceded merrily. Then she sighed. “You’re right. There is no going back. For good or ill, we chose to leave our homes.” She took a step forward and set a hand on his arm. “But that doesn’t mean you have to become the Alliance’s weapon.”
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, his gaze darting toward the camp. “What if that’s my only hope of happiness?”
Evylin had no answer for that. She stared at Ethenn, wondering how they were both facing such similar dilemmas.
After twenty-seven years of longing for adventure, after holding fast to her vow to Ryen, she found she no longer desired travel and daring exploits.
They couldn’t make her happy. And she feared that the one thing that could come close would inevitably destroy her.
With a final pat on his arm, Evylin moved away. “Come on,” she said, grabbing the brace of grouse and strung up hares. “Thom and Ilain will worry.”
Ethenn began to nod, then hesitated. “Evie, one more thing.”
She looked back at him, waiting.
He wet his lips. “I think you should be careful with Thom.”
Her nose scrunched in confusion. “What are you—?”
“When Raff got him drunk—when he told us about your marriage,” Ethenn’s swallow was visible along his neck, “he told us some other things too.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He wants to be with you, Evylin.”
The statement fell flat, dead in the air.
Evylin couldn’t fathom it. She couldn’t comprehend it.
Thom was her friend, and what’s more, he was Deckard’s brother.
Despite the competition and jealousy he felt toward his brother and his accomplishments, she knew Thom loved Deckard. He would never. . . .
Evylin continued to stare at Ethenn, mouth agape.
“Thom told us that he wishes it were he you had married.”
Evylin’s whole body felt as though it’d turned to stone. She’d confided in Thom; she’d trusted him. And he’d encouraged her and advised her in her marriage. Never once had she felt that he was trying to come between her and Deckard.
“That’s—I can’t—” Evylin stumbled over what to say. “Maybe . . . Maybe he did once feel that way, but—Ethenn, he’s not. . . .”
The words dissipated like the morning fog.
Ethenn gave her a sympathetic look. “I thought you should know,” he said softly.
Suddenly, Evylin found herself tugging on her rings. It was the last thing she’d expected to worry about. From the start, she’d viewed Thom as a friend. Throughout their travels, she’d come to see him as a brother. Hearing that he might harbor an infatuation with her . . .
The blood drained from Evylin’s head. If Ethenn was right, if Thom had feelings for her, then her announcement that her marriage to Deckard wasn’t real might seem to be an invitation.
Evylin twisted her rings, the onyx stones rough against her fingertips.
She rejected all thoughts of Thom’s affections.
During the entirety of their relationship, she’d never felt anything but friendship from him.
Until he proved otherwise, she wouldn’t trust a drunken admission that might have been misinterpreted.
Ethenn wasn’t privy to Thom’s jealousy of Deckard. Perhaps he’d misunderstood altogether.
No, Evylin wouldn’t believe one account. But she would take Ethenn’s advice.
From that moment on, Evylin would be careful with Thom.