CHAPTER FORTY-SIX #3
“Mm.” Evylin reverted to her comfort of humor. “I’ve always been a slow learner.”
“Quite the opposite,” Hewitt countered. “You’re a fast learner; you’re just stubborn.”
“I am your niece, after all.”
Hewitt didn’t play her game. “You can’t leave him.”
“I can,” she said. “Legally and emotionally.”
“Why would you?”
Evylin licked her lips, hesitating. “I want to.”
“Liar.”
“Maybe you don’t know what I want,” she shot back.
His steely gaze landed heavily on her. “I know you better than you know yourself.”
Evylin didn’t bother denying it.
“Why would you leave him?”
“I can’t be with him,” she said flatly.
“You can. Legally, you are. Emotionally . . . That’s left to be seen.”
“Did you come back simply to verbally spar with me?”
“As I can’t physically spar with you, what better way to spend my time?”
A sudden, unexpectedly joyful laugh erupted from Evylin. The tears returned as she stared up at his face, tracing the familiar lines. “I miss you,” she said.
His expression softened. “And I miss you, my girl.”
Evylin’s heart pricked. It was cruel, seeing him and being unable to touch him. She would give the breath from her lungs and the blood from her veins for only one more chance to hug him, to feel the warmth of his embrace.
“Do you love him?” Hewitt asked.
Her throat burned. “No.”
His stare bored into her knowingly.
“I can’t,” she corrected.
“Why not?”
“Because,” she gasped, unable to finish the explanation.
“Evylin,” he stepped closer, “tell me.”
“I—” She shook her head, pulling away. “I just can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You already do.”
“I don’t.”
“The truth, Evylin.”
“I can’t!”
“Why?”
“Because of you!” she exclaimed, her voice breaking, the tears falling in earnest. “Because of Ryen. Because if I love him, then the day will come when I have to go through this heartache a third time. And I can’t do it again.”
Evylin backed away, tugging at her rings. Her chest ached as her tears fell to the forest floor. “I can’t love him only to lose him too.”
Hewitt didn’t even flinch. He watched her in that steady, sure way of his, and she realized he already knew her reasons. “Oh, Evie,” he whispered. “My dear girl, I’m so sorry.”
His hand lifted before dropping back to his side, unable to comfort her.
It was too much for Evylin. A sob shook her, every part of her exhausted. “I can’t do this again,” she repeated. “I can’t take how much it hurts.”
“Evylin,” he said gently, “you need to listen to me. Take a breath.”
The emotion roiling inside made it hard to obey, but she squeezed her eyes shut and forced air into her lungs. Then she listened to his voice, ever a soothing balm to her ears.
“This is my fault,” Hewitt said. “I taught you to run from your grief, to mask it. Together, we shut out the world. It worked for a time, but it wasn’t enough. We never healed from our pain. And it didn’t hurt any less.”
Evylin looked up at him, desolate.
He smiled sadly at her. “You were my happiness, you know? After Irena and Ryen . . . You were the one thing that made life worth living. But I did you a disservice, letting you hold on to him through me. We should have let go together.”
Her fingertips caught on the etching and gemstones of her rings. “I don’t want to let him go,” she whispered. “I don’t want to let you go either.”
“We’re gone, Evylin,” Hewitt said in that matter-of-fact way of his. “It doesn’t matter if you try to cling to us for eternity. We can’t come back.”
“But you’re back,” she murmured.
Hewitt gave her a wry grin. “Not for good.”
Disappointment stirred in her gut.
“I am here to help you find happiness, Evie,” he said tenderly. “Once I’ve ensured that, I will go.”
“What if I can’t be happy without you?” Evylin lifted her chin, daring to use his words against him. “What if you’re my happiness too?”
Hewitt considered her, a fondness glinting in his eyes just as the final rays of sunlight beamed through the trees.
“Perhaps I became that for you in Whickam Village,” he said, then tipped his chin toward the direction Deckard had walked.
“But you found happiness with him as well. You don’t need me anymore. ”
Evylin stared at the onyx stones under her fingertips, brushing over their fractal cuts.
“You’re right,” he continued. “Someday, you will lose him, one way or another. It’s the way of life. But you can’t run from that.”
Evylin knew it was true. While she’d been trying to prove to herself that she didn’t love him, that she could escape the hurt if she lost him now, her heart was breaking anyway. It hurt, every moment spent pushing him away and protecting herself—it all hurt.
“Is that all there is?” Evylin asked brokenly. “A moment of happiness and a lifetime of misery?”
“Yes,” Hewitt said. “But generally, it winds up being a lifetime of happiness and only a moment of misery.”
A chilling breeze cut through, and a misting of raindrops began to fall. It felt as though Wauld was weeping with Evylin, sharing her grief and fear. She tightened her grip on her rings, her eyes lifting to the trees where Deckard stood waiting. Love him or leave him. Which would hurt less?
“I already love him,” Evylin whispered, the admission frightening and liberating all at once.
Hewitt smiled at her. “Tell him. Stay with him.”
Evylin shivered, and whether it was from the cold rain or the uncoiling emotion within, she wasn’t sure. But something like relief blossomed in her chest. It felt like the ivy of Estshire was growing up to mend the shattered fragments of her heart.
She looked up at Hewitt. “What if he won’t take me back?” she asked, knowing it was impossible.
Hewitt scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’ll fall at your feet.”
A bittersweet laugh slipped from her. She looked up at her uncle, the man she loved and trusted with her whole being. By whatever magic he’d done it, Deckard had given her this chance, this moment to be with Hewitt, to truly process her grief.
“I wish I could touch you,” she said. “I would give anything . . .”
“As would I.”
A steady rumble met Evylin’s ears. She turned toward the tree line, hearing the hooves of the horses approaching from the direction of the camp. “It sounds like it’s time to go,” she said with a sigh.
“We took too long,” Hewitt agreed.
Together, Evylin and Hewitt moved slowly toward the trees.
It felt like nothing had ever changed, as though they were walking through the army camp or traveling through the Ephrian countryside with the Calders.
She wished they had more time, that they didn’t have to rush to leave the Reach.
But she wondered how much longer Deckard could have held onto the magic after he’d already been taxed so much.
Perhaps soon, he’d be able to summon Hewitt to talk with her again.
The shadows grew longer, with only the moons and stars giving light to the forest now.
The rumble of the horses’ approach grew louder, and Evylin paused to listen, a frown growing on her face.
It was too loud, too thundering for their small, split band of horses.
She turned to look at Hewitt, but he was gone.
Deckard burst out of the trees at a sprint. “Evylin! Run!”