CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
While most of their team waited far below, Ethenn and Deckard kept watch on the cliffside. Neither thought a fire or a tent was wise; instead, they took turns resting under the stars in the high grasses while the other kept watch. The night was cold, restless, and never-ending.
The bruising on Ethenn’s ribs caused him to grimace with almost every breath. The pain was a constant reminder of Ilain. He didn’t begrudge her inability to heal all his wounds. If anything, he was more annoyed that she’d healed him at all.
She was being oddly gracious about his choice to break their betrothal. He’d taken away her lifelong dream. She deserved to be angry.
“I care for those who care for me.”
Yes, she deserved to be angry.
But then, so did he.
Ilain had used him and his affection from the start. And when he’d tried to do the right thing, she’d tried to manipulate him once again.
So many of her words had filled Ethenn with false hope. She wanted him. They were meant for one another. She loved him.
They were lies. Manipulations to get what she wanted.
In the new morning, Ethenn sat on the edge of the cliff, his feet dangling over the side.
Thousands of feet below, the rocky shore of the beach was covered by the high tide.
Deckard sat several paces back, reading one of his books on Space magic.
While the Mage sat in the shade of a tree, Ethenn let the sun beat down on him.
He wasn’t concerned about being spotted.
Since he’d tapped into his Warrior magic the night before, thereby sharpening his senses, he’d see anyone coming before they got close.
After several hours of silence, Deckard came to join him on his watch, though he remained farther back from the edge. “Anything?” he asked.
Ethenn shook his head, gaze catching on the outcropping where Ilain and Thom sat up the slope of the shoreline. He’d seen Brea climb the rock face near them an hour ago. She slipped in and out of his sight every so often, but the last he’d seen, she was headed their way.
“May I ask a question?” Deckard said.
Ethenn glanced over his shoulder at the colonel. “About Ilain?” he assumed.
Deckard nodded.
Turning back to the ocean, Ethenn sighed. “Sure.”
“Who broke off the betrothal?”
“Me.”
“Why?”
Ethenn tightened his jaw. He didn’t mind Deckard asking. If he were to speak with anyone, he thought the colonel would have the best answers for him. Ethenn looked up to Deckard. The man was everything honorable, just, and good, while he was everything broken, faulty, and weak.
“You’ll burn in hell, you wretch.”
Ethenn imagined his uncle was right about that. He’d gambled and fought. He’d leched—though not egregiously. He’d drunk to excess. He’d murdered. Allore wouldn’t want a soul as black as his.
“A few reasons,” Ethenn answered at last. “They all come down to the same thing, though. I’m not the right man for the job.”
Deckard was silent, taking that in. Then he countered, “Did you ask her opinion on that matter?”
Ethenn couldn’t help his bitter scoff. “I did not.”
“Don’t you think she deserves the chance to decide for herself?”
“I think she deserves a man whom she loves.” Ethenn grimaced.
“Or, more appropriately, a man who helps her realize there’s more to life than getting her way.
She’s a politician. I’m a hunter. I can’t be the man who stands by her side at the head of a kingdom or whatever Allund will be.
But there has to be someone out there who can do that and make her better. I just realized that man isn’t me.”
Deckard hummed in thought.
“You warned us of this,” Ethenn said. “You told me that a one-sided affection placed additional strain on a marriage. You said I lacked the intensity and shrewdness that she required.” He breathed out a self-derisive chuckle. “You were right.”
He heard Deckard shift behind him. “May I offer you new advice?” he asked.
Ethenn shrugged but welcomed whatever the colonel could offer him.
“Why do you love her?”
Hesitating, Ethenn looked over his shoulder. “That’s a question, not advice.”
Deckard grinned. “The question informs the advice.”
Accepting it, Ethenn took a deep breath.
His heart bled, thinking of her fondly, but he answered it anyway.
“She’s a liar,” he said. “Everything she presents about herself isn’t real.
She’s gentle, reserved, and tender. She’s fragile.
And I think . . . I love the real Ilain Calder.
Not the brash, flippant Mage she presents to the world—though, I love that version, too, for other reasons. ”
Ethenn shook his head, staring up at the golden sun. “She deserves someone who makes her feel safe,” he said. “Someone who can help her become that soft, compassionate version of herself. I thought maybe I could do it, but. . . .”
After realizing that Ethenn didn’t intend to finish that statement, Deckard spoke. “What makes you think you can’t?”
Ethenn smiled sadly. “Because I’m not safe.”
He turned, swinging his legs back up so he could face Deckard.
“I killed a man when I was sixteen,” he confessed.
“It was in the fighting pits, so nothing was done about it. It’s an unspoken rule that stepping into the ring is forfeiting your life, as the clubs are illegal in the first place.
You can’t get the law involved without ratting on yourself.
During that fight, the man kept taking cheap shots, and I’d already been angry because my uncle—” He cut himself off, not caring to admit his uncle’s abuse to Deckard.
Clearing his throat, he began again. “I went into the fight angry, and I just kept getting angrier. Oftentimes, fighting makes it worse. The more I hit, the more I want to hit. Now that I know what I am, I guess it’s the magic egging me on, but—” He licked his lips, but they still felt parched.
“I punched the man so hard, he collapsed. I heard someone say something about a brain hemorrhage, though I don’t know what that means.
He was dead by the time he hit the floor. It’s how I got the nickname ‘Slayer.’”
Deckard listened with a strange expression. It was something between shock, disappointment, and pity.
Ethenn hated it.
Tightening his jaw, he got to the point.
“I’m dangerous,” he concluded. “After that incident, I was able to keep it together for a while. Occasionally, I’d slip up and cause serious injury, but I never killed anyone else.
Then I nearly killed my brother-in-law. I nearly killed Thom too.
All because I got so angry that I lost control. ”
He met Deckard’s wary gaze. “So you see, don’t you?” he asked. “You see why I can’t be the right man for her. I’m not safe. How could I ever make her feel cared for enough to let go and be herself? How could I presume to be worthy to lead this nation beside her?”
A long silence passed as Deckard considered Ethenn’s words. The wind rustled the tree a few feet away while the ocean rumbled far below. The colonel broke the pause. “Does she make you better?”
Ethenn blinked. “You mean, does she take the anger away?”
Deckard nodded.
He grimaced. “Sometimes.”
“Perhaps that’s enough,” Deckard said thoughtfully. He met Ethenn’s gaze with a dry grin. “I presume you know that my wife is friends with Ilain.”
Ethenn scoffed wryly. “I’ve become aware of the fact.”
“They talk.”
“Mm.”
Deckard’s smile softened. “And my wife talks to me.”
Ethenn narrowed his gaze, waiting.
“I would advise you to reconsider the end of your betrothal.”
Drawing back, Ethenn sucked in a tense breath, but Deckard held up a hand, forestalling his reply.
“She makes you better,” he said, raising his brow.
“And you make her better. Whether or not you see that, it’s true.
You’ve been together for a month. It took twice that for Evylin and me to grow comfortable in our marriage.
It took three times that for us to figure out our relationship. ”
“This isn’t about comfort,” Ethenn said. “It’s about what’s best for her.”
“Is it?” Deckard pierced him with a keen gaze. “Or are you protecting yourself?”
Ethenn frowned.
“I’m married to Evylin, remember?” The colonel grinned knowingly. “Warriors don’t seem to trust easily.”
“It isn’t about trust either.”
“It’s about fearing that you aren’t enough for her,” Deckard surmised. “That, despite everything you feel, she’ll never return your devotion. You’ll only ever be a tool for her to use. A weapon. You fear that she’ll make you a killer of her own design and for her own selfish purposes, is that it?”
Ethenn faltered for words. How had the colonel seen so clearly what Ethenn had yet to realize for himself?
Yes, he feared that all Ilain wanted from him was his magic.
In her hands, under her influence, she could make him into the most frightful killer the world had ever seen.
And all he wanted was to sink into obscurity, hiding away from the power that made him a vile heathen.
“These burns are nothing to the fiery fate that awaits you.”
Vernon Loxley was a devout Allorian, proud of his piety. He and his family lived beyond reproach. They were the picture of perfect morality. That’s what they claimed.
Ethenn was their one cause for shame.
“Your father would roll in his grave if he knew what you’d become.”
On the clifftop, Ethenn’s hands shook, and the heat crept up his spine. He hated his uncle. The man was cruel. He punished through false claims of superiority. He abused those he deemed lesser.
Ethenn never blamed the other religious men and women in the town. He saw how they lived their lives. Most were genuine, like Deckard. It was only the self-righteous who became hypocrites like his uncle.
But Vernon’s affected piety didn’t change the truth: Ethenn was a sinner, a killer, and a disappointment. His parents would be devastated if they saw what he’d become.
Ilain was meant to be his redemption. If he could love her well, perhaps he could absolve his sins. Now, he knew how wrong he was.
The sound of approaching footsteps broke him out of his reverie.
“I am a weapon,” Ethenn concluded, turning back to Deckard. “No matter what, that’s all I’ll ever be good for.” Though Deckard’s expression said he disagreed, Ethenn rose quickly. “Brea’s here,” he announced.
Appearing over the rise a short distance away, Brea wore her dark braids loose, their length falling across her back. She’d left most of her weapons behind, it seemed; only her sword hung at her hip. Though she presumably wore many hidden daggers.
The men met her under the tree. “Is something wrong?” Deckard asked, leaning toward her with worry.
“Why would something be wrong?” Brea asked.
“You’re supposed to be with Thom and Ilain.”
She grinned. “I don’t like sitting in one place for long periods of time,” she said. “I thought I’d check in with you two. Have you seen anything?”
The men shook their heads. “Nothing,” Ethenn said. “It’s been absolutely quiet.”
Brea pursed her lips and hummed, disappointed. “I suppose it’s to be expected. There’s a chance Blount won’t show up today at all.”
“What do we do in that event?” Ethenn asked.
“We’ll decide that if the time comes,” Deckard said.
“And what if he never arrives at all?” Brea rested casually against the tree. “How long will we wait for him to make an appearance that might not come?”
They frowned down at her. “He was headed for the Terrae Relic,” Deckard said.
“To our best knowledge,” she agreed. “But what if we were wrong? It would behoove us to consider every eventuality.”
With a sigh, Deckard nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Very well.” He scanned the beaches. “If we’ve seen no sign of Blount by tomorrow evening, I suppose there’s no point in staying. We can’t wait here endlessly.”
“You’re willing to lose two days to Blount’s whims?” Brea asked.
“What else can we do?”
Ethenn realized the suggestion behind Brea’s words.
“We could regroup with the Alliance,” he said.
“They have spies in Blount’s circles. They could have heard something but were unable to get us a message in time.
And even if they haven’t, there’s a chance they might know something to help us defeat Blount rather than continue wasting time here. ”
Deckard considered their proposal. “We did the calculations,” he said. “Blount should arrive today. But you have a point; we may be wasting time. If he doesn’t arrive by morning . . . I think we should reconvene and reconsider.”
Brea straightened, a gratified look on her face. “Excellent,” she said and turned to Ethenn. “Would you like to spar for a bit? I’m about to lose my mind.”
Ethenn and Deckard shared a grin.
The hunter stepped forward, nodding at her. “That sounds like exactly the distraction I need.”