CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE #2
Evylin frowned, sure that Ethenn would flounder under their questioning. Not even she could provide an answer regarding Deckard’s deepest fear.
But Ethenn said, “Sea travel. And abandonment, but that’s less tangible.” He raised his brow then. “Would you like me to tell you the number of freckles on her nose? It’s forty-seven. I’ve counted them many times.”
Thom, Rafferty, and Caspar laughed at the quip, while Seretta pursed her lips.
At Evylin’s side, Henriette set a hand to her chest. “I don’t think we can doubt him any longer,” she remarked merrily. She smiled brightly at Ethenn. “You must love her very much.”
“I do,” he said without hesitation.
“Sap,” Caspar muttered into his wine glass.
Henriette ignored her husband. “It must be quite difficult, being parted from her for so long,” she said.
Ethenn shifted to reach for his wine. “It is.”
“And you,” Henriette said, turning to Evylin. “You must be so happy to have your husband with you on your journey.”
“Oh, yes,” Evylin confirmed. “I wouldn’t want to be without him. Not even for a day.”
Evidently bored, Caspar turned to Rafferty. “You’re not married, are you?”
“No,” Rafferty said in blatant confusion.
“And you’re not in love?”
“No.”
“Excellent.” Caspar tossed back the rest of his wine before holding it up for the servants to refill. “Tell me about Wauld. Are the women as shapeless and foul-tempered as the one traveling with you?”
Pitying Henriette more and more, Evylin smiled at her gently.
Upon the encouragement, the woman continued. “Your husband,” she said. “How long has he been a soldier?”
Evylin paused, searching her mind for the number. She turned to Thom on her other side, who was clearly listening in as the king, Deckard, Auden, and the duke discussed dull politics. “Twelve years?” she asked, and Thom nodded.
She turned back to Henriette. “Twelve years.”
“So long! Have you traveled with him for much of it?” the princess asked.
“No, Your Highness, we only married four months ago, so I just began to travel with him then.”
“Oh, you must have missed him terribly during your courtship.”
Evylin didn’t bother to correct her assumption.
“I heard about his station when you saved Caspar,” Henriette said. “But what did he do prior?”
Evylin couldn’t answer.
Thom leaned forward and offered, “He worked in Colonel Caarter’s regiment for roughly five years. They traveled most of the border, ensuring the officers there had enough supplies and followed protocol.”
“That sounds awfully important,” Henriette remarked.
Thom shrugged. “He was a glorified courier.”
Evylin struggled to contain her snort and took a bite to cover it.
“Ah,” Henriette said, seeming oblivious to the snide statement. “Now, I’m not familiar with the details, Private Deckard, but as a soldier, how long does your commission last?”
“Well, I’m not sure,” Evylin said. “The traditional soldier has a ten-year contract. But I’m not officially a soldier, you see. I never signed a commission, so I believe that I simply work at the king’s leisure.”
“Oh.” The princess sounded disappointed. Her brown eyes shone sadly. “Couldn’t that last forever?”
“I suppose it could.” Though not once Allund was raised.
“Don’t you want to have children?”
Evylin blinked, and Thom shifted uncomfortably at her side. “Yes,” she murmured uncertainly. “One day.”
“And your husband? He seems like such an honorable man. I’m sure he would make an excellent father.”
“He would,” Evylin agreed, though she and Deckard had never outright discussed children.
She assumed he wanted them, but she couldn’t say for sure, especially not now that they were a Bonded Mage and Warrior, certain to live for another century or more.
Did that change his feelings about having a family? Did it change hers?
Henriette patted Evylin’s hand, a happy smile on her face. “I’m sure His Majesty would excuse you once you chose to start a family. Won’t that be wonderful? You and your husband could retire to the countryside. I’ve heard it’s beautiful. Maybe you could live in a cottage, like in the storybooks.”
Evylin didn’t feel the smile she gave the woman. “Perhaps,” she said, then turned to her plate. She stabbed a large chunk of roasted beef and shoved it into her mouth to avoid any more conversation.
Chewing slowly, Evylin glanced at Deckard.
He thanked the servant who’d just refilled his wine glass, and she furrowed her brow, studying him discreetly.
Who was her husband? Did he want children?
Would he like a cottage in the countryside?
All this time, he was so good and giving, promising to supply her dreams, and yet he’d never once stated what he dreamed of.
Did he even like adventure? Would he be happy to settle in Loclight, filling their house with furniture and children, turning it into a home?
Would there even be a Loclight when the Alliance was through?
“He won’t want that,” Thom whispered at Evylin’s side. She met his sharp gaze, and he smiled. “He doesn’t approve of the mundane.”
“Are you sure?” Evylin whispered back.
“He married you, didn’t he?”
She chuckled softly. “I mean, are you sure he wouldn’t want to live in the countryside?”
“Why would he?”
Evylin shrugged. “It’s beautiful, restful, away from danger. It could be a good place to raise a family.” She furrowed her brow. “Does he want a family?”
Thom’s eyes widened. “Shouldn’t you know the answer to that yourself?”
She pursed her lips. “I should know a lot of things. But I’m stuck here wondering how it is that Ethenn knows Ilain better than I know Jonn.”
Thom blew a silent raspberry. “He made all that stuff up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, he made Eina up.”
“No, he didn’t,” Ilain whispered, leaning in on Thom’s other side.
“What?” they both asked in hushed tones.
Ilain’s green eyes glimmered slyly. “Eina is my middle name. Sea travel is my worst fear, though he gleaned the abandonment bit for himself. And he did, in fact, count the freckles on my nose just last night. Forty-seven.”
“Please, don’t inform us about anything else that happened last night,” Thom muttered ruefully. “Now, we’re not supposed to be friendly, so turn away and act like you hate us.”
Ilain chuckled in a snide manner, then did as ordered.
Thom offered Evylin an apologetic shrug. “So it seems Ethenn knows random, odd facts about his wife. That doesn’t mean he knows her better than you know Deckard.”
Tugging on her wedding rings, Evylin glanced at her husband. Her heart thudded with agitation. Deckard looked up then, a curiosity in his air. He’d felt her frustration.
With an appeasing grin, Evylin dismissed his concern. Then she turned back to her meal. It didn’t matter what Thom said. Evylin should know those random, odd facts about Deckard. She should know his greatest fear and his deepest desire. She should know if he wanted children.
For how else was she going to love him with the same dedication and care with which he loved her?