CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“You’ve forgotten everything I taught you,” Hewitt’s ghost said as Deckard’s sword dropped into the mud, disarmed by Rafferty.
The weasel’s silver eyes twinkled as he spun the long hunting knife.
After losing his short swords in the Wind Keep, he’d taken to wielding the blade along with one of the backups he’d brought from Ephria.
Though they wouldn’t usually spar with real weapons, they didn’t have much choice, as Evylin and Ethenn had taken the practice swords with them, and the trees in the marshes were too springy to make good temporary weapons.
“You taking it easy on me, Colonel?” Rafferty said snarkily.
Deckard looked beyond Rafferty’s shoulder to meet Hewitt’s gaze. “I got distracted,” he replied to both of them.
“Thinking about Evylin again?” Rafferty teased, oblivious to the ghost’s presence.
“Probably,” Hewitt said.
Deckard found himself grinning. “If I were thinking about Evylin, I would have won.”
The men ranged across the small island, its long grasses bowing as they traversed and trained.
Murky water stretched for miles. Willows and cypress trees towered over them, creating a dense canopy that blocked out the sky.
Shafts of sunlight filtered through the treetops, reflecting off the marsh waters.
At the edge of their island, the horses grazed lazily. The marshes were waist-deep on men, but the horses made their trek bearable.
Deckard and Rafferty had left Auden on the small inlet they’d used for their camp in search of enough ground to train.
After the first few days of their journey, Rafferty began to complain of boredom.
He’d insisted that they should start sparring to keep their skills up.
So every day, Deckard would train with Auden during their rides and with Rafferty during the evening.
Sometimes, their marshy camp islands were big enough to spar on. Other times, like today, they had to seek out better ground.
Amidst all his practice and training, Deckard had learned two things. First, he had indeed lost some of the progress he’d made with Hewitt. And second, his control over his magic was rapidly and disturbingly increasing.
Ever since making the plan to summon Hewitt so Evylin could talk with him, Deckard had kept the ghost around permanently. He’d been cautious at first, wary that Auden would discover his deepening connection with Night. When the Mage showed no signs of noticing, Deckard grew more confident.
It felt good to have Hewitt around once again.
The ghost coached him through the sparring, giving him much-needed lessons.
Hewitt had even given Deckard the idea of training in hand-to-hand combat with Rafferty, bringing those skills up to par.
“Mages rely too much on their magic,” Hewitt said.
“While you lot are busy waving your hands around, an attacker can sneak up on you. You’d best learn to defend yourself without weapons or magic. ”
Beyond the improvement of his martial skills, Deckard enjoyed having his mentor’s company ever at his side. It gave him a false connection to Evylin, despite the hundreds of miles separating them.
Rafferty surveyed Deckard as he reset his stance. “You want to go again?” he asked in surprise.
“Are you getting tired?” Deckard asked. He’d come to understand that conversation with the man was best executed with witty quips. That was the only way to earn Rafferty’s good opinion. “By all means, concede.”
“You’re the old man here,” Rafferty said. “I’ll still be crowing when you’re cold in your grave.”
Knowing that Auden held more than a decade on him and Deckard would, in fact, live far longer than Rafferty, he chose not to correct him.
Deckard charged, beginning the next bout.
At the start of their training, Deckard found it difficult to keep up with Rafferty’s dual-wielded blades.
It forced him to be more alert, watching for both sword and knife at once.
However, he’d picked up the nuances of the skill faster than he would have with Hewitt standing at his side, offering advice and tidbits to improve all the while.
“You’ve put too little pressure on his right blade,” Hewitt warned. “He’ll escape you. Watch out for his underhand. Don’t focus so much on the blades. Keep a watch—he’s going to kick your leg out from—oh, you idiot.”
Deckard sprawled on the thick grass. Hewitt’s guidance had whipped Deckard back into shape, but Rafferty was still too wily at times.
“I’ve told you.” Hewitt crossed his arms. “If your opponent isn’t going to fight fair, you can’t either.”
That was the lesson Deckard struggled to master.
Rafferty held out his hand to help Deckard up, sniggering all the while.
Deckard grabbed the weasel’s hand, then swept his leg, dropping Rafferty to the ground next to him. With all the speed he could muster, Deckard rolled to his knees, tapping the point of his sword to Rafferty’s chest.
“I win,” Deckard said.
Hewitt laughed, and Rafferty smirked. “Now, you’re getting it, Colonel,” he said. “Takes a weasel to beat a weasel.”
Deckard stood and sheathed his sword. He’d have to buff out the nicks later. “I’ll try to take that as a compliment.”
Rafferty popped up nimbly. “You should. All this time with me has made you less boring. Miraculously, I’m actually rather fond of you now.”
“I feel I should be bothered by that sentiment,” Deckard remarked. “I’ve never been friends with a criminal before.”
“I’m an entrepreneur,” Rafferty corrected. “And whoever said we were friends?”
Deckard raised his brow. “You just—”
“I said I’m fond of you. I didn’t say we were friends.”
“I assumed the two were synonymous.”
Rafferty gave him a wry look. “I assumed the same could be said for marriage and sex. Guess we were both wrong.”
Hewitt snorted.
With a disparaging frown toward the ghost, Deckard let the quip go.
Rafferty’s jokes about his and Evylin’s relationship had irritated Deckard the first several days, but he’d quickly learned to let them pass unheeded.
The “three” questions Rafferty bartered for easily became twenty as they trained.
Then it grew to fifty. Now, Deckard thought they were nearing the hundreds, and while he hadn’t answered most of them, he’d grown numb to the indelicate topic.
In fact, Deckard found it somewhat liberating to discuss the situation in abstract terms every now and again.
“We all make foolish assumptions,” Deckard said, then moved toward the horses. “Come on. It’s time we got back.”
Rafferty hopped on his horse while Hewitt appeared farther up the path. The ghost rarely walked. He simply appeared where Deckard wanted to see him.
They guided their horses through the waters and inlets of land. “Really, though,” Rafferty said casually, “what was it that kept you from sealing the deal with Evie? It wasn’t . . .” His eyes darted over Deckard’s person, growing wide. “I mean, you can—”
“Yes,” Deckard interrupted, heat creeping up his neck. “I chose not to.”
“What, ’cause you’re a gentleman?” Rafferty asked mockingly.
“No, it was far worse than that.”
“Eh?”
“I’d seen what she could do with a sword.” Deckard passed Rafferty a flat glare. “I didn’t care to test her lenience with unwanted affection.”
Rafferty guffawed while Hewitt shook his head. “Liar,” the ghost accused.
“So you were afraid of her,” Rafferty concluded.
And though Hewitt was right—Deckard was a liar—Rafferty was correct as well.
“In a way,” Deckard admitted. “I take the duty of a husband seriously. Beginning our marriage by abusing the role to suit my masculine desires didn’t seem advisable. And I didn’t want her to hate me.”
“Sure,” Rafferty said. “I get that. But that was months ago. You’d become quite friendly. You slept all snuggly-like. And, from what I’ve heard, you spent some quality time snogging too.”
Deckard’s gaze snapped to Rafferty’s face. “Where did you hear that?”
“Most recently? Ethenn.”
Deckard turned away, a flush working across his scalp. He’d done his best to forget Ethenn’s witness to his and Evylin’s kiss in Dunneshead.
“You really did a number on Loxley. The kid was practically shaking in his boots as he told me. He kept that bit from Thommy, though.”
Hewitt shook his head, and Deckard shifted uncomfortably in his saddle.
“It was Thom who told me about it in the past,” Rafferty said. “The first time, he lamented how Evie confided in him about your prowess after we saved dear ol’ Prince Ephren. Good on you, by the way.”
Deckard furrowed his brow, confused by the commendation.
“The second time,” Rafferty continued, “was back in Loclight. Said he and Hew were just sitting there when you two came barging in, tangled up and tearing at each other. He thought you’d finally worked up the nerve.”
“He wasn’t the only one,” Hewitt remarked.
“Guess that wasn’t the case,” Rafferty said, waggling his white-blond brows.
Pressing his lips together at the recounting of some of their most intimate moments, Deckard pushed the memories aside. “It wasn’t,” he muttered.
“I can see how having your brother and her uncle there might kill the mood.”
Deckard glanced at Hewitt accusingly. “Indeed.”
“But she wanted it, right?” Rafferty asked.
Deckard recoiled. While his sensibilities had relaxed in the past fourteen days spent in Rafferty’s company, such a blatant presumption of Evylin’s intimate desires caused his moral senses to flare.
Rafferty didn’t notice. “I mean, the way Thom talked, she was as eager as you.” The weasel gave him a meaningful look. “Something about her tongue—”
“Stop!”
A smug grin remained on the weasel’s face as Deckard worked his jaw.
On the nearest embankment, Hewitt scowled. “Tell the fool what he wants to know so he stops asking.”
Giving both men an irritated look, Deckard followed the ghost’s advice. “I chose to respect her wishes. Whatever that makes me—a coward, an idiot, a gentleman—I don’t care. I did what I thought was best for her. Because I love her.”
Rafferty pursed his lips, listening.