CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Two more days,” Rafferty said, leaping from his horse. He let out a groan and shook his legs. “Two more days, and then we get a break from this torture.”
Deckard grinned, stretching out his own aches and pains from riding for nearly two months straight. Exhaustion like he hadn’t experienced since his earliest days in the army worked through his muscles. He was ready for a rest.
Due to their more direct path through the marshes, their trio would arrive in Loches, where they would reunite with the others, with a day or two to spare.
That meant they’d get a full day of recovery and rest before journeying the final fourteen miles to the Time Keep.
A luxurious prospect that kept the three men determined to maintain their breakneck pace.
Deckard’s attention was divided, however, since he was eager to speak with Hewitt.
They’d crossed the border into Vaura Reach that morning, easily skirting the guards at the gate with Deckard and Auden’s combined power to shroud their small numbers.
Within the Reach, there were few travelers and fewer Waulden soldiers, which meant safer travel.
And as they were finally free of the marshes’ clutches, they could hunt at last.
Prepared with his excuses, Deckard gathered his supplies. “I’ll set the traps tonight,” he told the men. “You two prepare the camp.”
Rafferty let out a sigh of relief. With only their singular tent, caring for the horses, and Auden’s sovereignty over the meals, it would mean a leisurely evening for the man. “Sounds good, boss,” he said with a salute.
Auden wasn’t so easily convinced. “It isn’t safe to go out alone,” he protested.
“We’ve discussed this before,” Deckard said, keeping his tone calm. “We either leave you alone at the camp, or only one of us goes out to hunt. You told us the Reaches are safer than the kingdom. I’ll be fine.”
Auden shook his head resolutely, but Deckard cut him off before he could argue. “I won’t go far,” he promised.
The tension remained in Auden’s shoulders, though his expression eased. “You’ll stay within earshot?” he asked.
“Yes.”
With a sigh, Auden waved him off. But Deckard didn’t miss the glint of worry that lingered in his eyes.
Hurrying deeper into the woods surrounding them, Deckard stayed true to his word. He set up the traps quickly, remaining within shouting distance. And once he’d done his duty, he turned to the trees, finding Hewitt already standing before him.
“That Mage gives me a headache with all his bellyaching,” Hewitt grumbled.
Deckard sighed. “He’s just trying to be cautious. Now,” he crossed his arms, glaring at the ghost, “would you mind telling me exactly when you learned that my brother had designs on my wife?”
“That’s the least of your concerns,” Hewitt said dismissively. “What you should be focused on is how Evylin will respond when he says something to her.”
Though he didn’t appreciate the redirection, Deckard allowed the momentary distraction. “Rafferty’s sure he won’t say anything.”
“Rafferty’s wrong.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know your brother,” Hewitt said. “Because I’m also the second son who never measured up.”
Deckard’s brows pinched together. “You were a military legend.”
“I was a screwup.” Hewitt raised his bushy eyebrows.
“My entire life, I lived in the shadow of my older brother. He was the clever one, the charming one. People always liked him best. I was the disaster, the Glaas boy who got into fights and couldn’t control his temper.
It wasn’t until I was conscripted that I excelled at anything. ”
Deckard wondered if these facets of his history were due to his abilities as a Warrior.
Hewitt took a step forward. “I understand your brother because I was your brother. He will say something because he’s desperate to prove himself—to himself and you.”
“How would—” Deckard shook his head. However Thom justified his actions didn’t matter. He chose to ask the question the ghost would care to answer instead. “If you’re right, if he says something, what impact do you imagine that will have on my relationship with Evylin?”
Hewitt tugged on his beard, his gaze drifting toward the trees in thought. “There’s a chance it will be positive,” he mused. “Evylin is afraid of intimacy. Discovering that other men might have designs on her may push her back into your arms.”
A swell of hope rose in Deckard, and he immediately quashed it. Wishing for Thom to reveal his feelings only for the sake of forcing Evylin’s return to him was almost as dishonorable as Thom making overtures to his sister-in-law in the first place.
“However,” Hewitt continued, “the greater odds lie in favor of his profession driving her farther away from you. She won’t want to come between the two of you. The guilt of it may further convince her to part with you, no matter her feelings.”
Deckard pressed his lips together. “I’ve worried about that.”
“And, of course,” Hewitt added, “there’s a chance that she’ll be so overwhelmed by both your and your brother’s attentions that she chooses to abandon this whole quest and run home on her own.”
Deckard frowned. “You don’t really believe she’ll do that, do you?”
Hewitt shrugged, but Deckard could see in the relaxed posture of his mouth that the man wasn’t truly worried by that eventuality.
In the fading evening light, Deckard studied Hewitt carefully.
His steely eyes held the same brooding slant as Evylin’s.
They shared the same brown hair, though hers was softer and cooler in tone, whereas Hewitt’s was darker and richer.
Their dispositions were similar, too: stubborn, clever, and brutally honest. But Hewitt carried a darkness with him, one that harbored secrets.
His demeanor was closed off and unfriendly, allowing him to wield people and their vulnerabilities like a weapon.
A man as skilled at manipulation as Hewitt didn’t miss a thing. He crafted calculating plans, exploiting others to obtain the ends he needed for success. It was what any good officer learned to do. Identify the desires of your men and utilize them to accomplish the task at hand.
While plotting Evylin’s escape from Whickam Village, Hewitt wouldn’t have failed to take into account every last opportunity. He would have considered both Deckard and Thom with equity. And just as he’d discerned Deckard’s deepest-held secrets and dreams, he would have recognized Thom’s as well.
“How long have you known?” Deckard asked, sure of the answer.
Hewitt lifted his chin. “Known what?”
Deckard held his stare, unflinching.
The ghost drew back his shoulder, bearing up to his full, monstrous height. Anyone who hadn’t spent so much time in his company might find the posture threatening. Deckard just found it theatrical.
“From the beginning,” Hewitt said, confirming Deckard’s suspicion.
“From the moment I saw you and your brother in my shop. I noticed your attention to her at dinner the previous evening, and I was assured of your regard by the way you spoke to her. It irked me, but unfortunately, it pleased her. A fact your brother didn’t fail to recognize either. ”
Deckard nodded in understanding, but Hewitt kept speaking. “I saw the decision in his eyes then. The moment Evylin smiled at you, when you made her laugh, Thom noticed. And I watched his expression change.”
“What do—?”
“Your regard for one another is the only reason Thom felt anything,” Hewitt said. “He doesn’t love her. He’s jealous of your love for one another.”
Deckard’s brow pinched. “You mean to tell me that his feelings aren’t even real? That they’re born of competition with me rather than true affection for her?”
“That’s precisely what I’m saying.”
Deckard ran a hand through his hair.
“It’s one of the many reasons I would never have allowed him to marry her,” Hewitt said. “While I personally like him better than you, it’s only because you remind me of my own brother: perfect, charming, and false.”
Though Deckard bristled, Hewitt raised a hand.
“I’ve learned that your intentions are far more honorable than my brother’s, but I’ll thank you to keep your objections to yourself.
You lie—it’s your greatest failing and what makes you human.
While you pretend to be high, mighty, and unfailingly good, I see the truth: You’re as selfish as the rest of us. ”
Taking a deep breath, Deckard held back his arguments. He wasn’t selfish. At every turn, he sacrificed for the greater good, and most often, for Evylin’s good. He knew that, and he didn’t need to convince Hewitt to confirm the truth.
“What were your other reasons?” Deckard asked, returning to the matter at hand.
Hewitt gave a terse grunt. “Most importantly, Evylin didn’t want him. A fact I made him aware of when he lamented his woes to me.”
A seething anger wrapped around Deckard’s chest at the revelation. “He told you?”
“Everything,” Hewitt confirmed, then scoffed. “And he had the gall to ask why I didn’t choose him.”
“What did you tell him?” Deckard asked, sympathy and satisfaction at war within him.
Hewitt hesitated. “I’ll be honest, I was weak. As I said, I saw myself in him, and I felt pity for the man I used to be. Thus, I told him the easiest truth to bear: He wasn’t the one she wanted.”
Deckard stared, open-mouthed and amazed that that was the easiest truth.
“Had I been wise enough,” Hewitt’s thick brow descended heavily, “I would have given him the whole truth. Had Evylin not chosen you, had she been ambivalent or even preferred Thom, I still wouldn’t have allowed it.”