CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE #3
Thom reached across the small space between them, tugging Brea into a hug.
It was typical for them to engage in playful or platonic touches, like nudges or gentle pats.
They often rested their arms on each other’s chairs or leaned in to share whispers.
However, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly against his chest was a level of affection Deckard was unaccustomed to witnessing.
Deckard also sensed Brea’s surprise at their unexpected closeness.
Cautiously, she wrapped her arms around Thom’s waist, her forehead pressing against his chin awkwardly.
In the past month, Deckard hadn’t noticed any romantic growth between his brother and the Warrior, and, having spent most of that time apart, he chose not to question Thom about it.
His brother tended to overthink his emotions, and Deckard understood how much his friendship with Brea mattered to him.
Deckard wanted to avoid presuming any infatuation or romance where it was unwarranted.
However, as Thom and Brea’s embrace lasted just a bit longer than what would typically be deemed socially acceptable, Deckard worried he might need to have a conversation with his brother after all.
As though recognizing the uncomfortable situation he’d put them in, Thom backed up and cleared his throat. He gave Brea’s shoulder a smack with a terse, “It’s good to see you again, dulá.” Then he pushed past her to walk toward the gate.
Brea turned to Deckard and Evylin in confusion.
“Don’t ask me,” Deckard said dryly. He grinned at both Brea and Reid. “We’ll see you both tomorrow, I’m sure.”
“Oh, Colonel,” Reid said before they could turn away.
“Please, call me ‘Deckard.’”
“I don’t think I should.”
“You should,” Evylin said. “What did you need?”
“Lord Carlile requested I inform you,” Reid explained. “The Administration wishes to meet with you first thing tomorrow.”
Deckard shared a look with Evylin. “Yes, their letter said they’d want a debriefing of the trip.”
Reid shook his head. “Things have changed. It’s to be an official meeting on behalf of Allund. They want Captains Deckard and Lohen there too.”
Tension coiled in Deckard’s chest. Though the country was thriving even without an official ruling system, it couldn’t continue indefinitely.
Decisions were already delayed, and without a clear chain of command, progress was stalling.
The Alliance was prepared to advance to the next phase of their plans.
They would attempt to impose the roles of commander and chancellor on Evylin and him, leaving them with no alternatives.
The archminister would frame it in such a way that refusing the position would be akin to rejecting the best interests of their countrymen.
However, after witnessing Evylin’s decline within the palace and the pressure they faced, Deckard vowed to himself that they wouldn’t accept. He would refuse the position, even if it compromised his principles.
Deckard thanked Reid for the update and made an effort to ensure his farewell didn’t come off as curt or hostile.
He trailed Thom through the gate, guiding Evylin and Calyn back home.
Upon their return, Thom got busy preparing a meal while Deckard heated water for everyone to clean up.
Their belongings, including Thom’s, arrived quickly, giving them a clear task for the evening: namely, unpacking.
Deckard appreciated having something to do with his hands while he mulled over the upcoming meeting.
Evylin noticed his irritation, as she always did lately, but she kindly chose not to press him when he offered excuses to avoid the conversation. Instead, she wrapped up her unpacking, gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek, and headed off to help Calyn settle in.
With her away, Deckard’s thoughts spiraled irrationally.
He worried that his conscience wouldn’t allow him to refuse the Alliance.
If they played on his sense of duty, could he deny them?
And what if Evylin changed her mind? If she reconsidered and determined that she wanted to rule, he couldn’t refuse her.
Deckard’s frustrations grew during the hour he spent carefully unpacking, rearranging, and bathing.
He was meticulous while shaving, even defining the hairline at the back of his neck.
To Evylin’s dismay, he’d resumed shaving after the reinstatement of Allund.
If he were to work as an official of a nation, he believed he should appear as professional and respectable as possible.
His eyes were drawn to the Space Relic resting on the bed as he dressed after his bath.
Ever since their appointment as ambassadors of Allund, the Alliance had requested that Deckard wear the Relic visibly.
They claimed it would establish him as a Mage in the eyes of the people and help dispel any fear surrounding their kind.
This assignment made him uneasy. Occasionally, he still felt a nagging desire to use his power, and while he had come to master its pull, that did not make him any more comfortable with the weight of responsibility it represented to him.
More than anything, Deckard longed to be a soldier again.
He wanted the Allundan Army to offer him a contract so he could resume his role as an officer.
Being a Mage was exhausting. Politicking was taxing.
He yearned to return to insignificance, to fade into obscurity now that their mission was complete.
Deckard slipped the Space Relic over his head, tucking the cold metal pendant beneath his tunic. He didn’t care if the Alliance wanted him to appear as an elite Mage. He was home. He would allow himself one night off.
Adopting a better mood, Deckard went down to dinner.
Together, Thom and Evylin had finished their preparations for the meal.
They all sat around the table, said their prayer over the food, and began to answer Calyn’s many questions about the city, the Alliance, their previous travels, and life outside of Whickam Village.
Deckard found himself pleasantly bemused during dinner. With Evylin by his side and Thom and Calyn across from them, it was like they were a real family. He finally had the dream he’d always wanted: a wife he loved, a good relationship with his brother, and the hope of a happy future.
Deckard smiled at the thought. He realized that no matter what came or the pressures the Alliance placed on them, he could be happy because he had his family.
As the meal continued, Deckard watched Thom and Calyn carefully.
His brother hadn’t indicated again his desire to be with the young woman, though he treated her with far more kindness and consideration than in the past. He didn’t think Thom had feelings for Calyn, at least not romantic ones, but perhaps he could learn to.
That thought gave Deckard pause. Should Thom learn to love Calyn that way?
They would make a handsome couple, that was clear.
Thom was dashing with his dark hair and sharp gaze.
Calyn was lovely with her demure smile and richly tanned complexion.
Now that Thom had overcome his insecurities, he acted with chivalry and grace.
As Calyn matured, she bore a new refinement and sensibility.
They chatted pleasantly, treating one another with deference and affection.
But was their camaraderie a result of attraction? Or was it more platonic in its care?
After witnessing Thom’s strange behavior with Brea, Deckard wasn’t sure what to think. But he decided he’d better find out the truth.
Rising from the table after dinner, Deckard caught Thom’s gaze. “I’m thinking of going out for a drink,” he said. “Would you care to join me?”
Thom and Evylin stared at Deckard in shock.
“You want to go to the tavern?” Thom asked.
Deckard nodded. “After all this travel, I’d like to relax.”
Thom turned to Evylin, who shrugged.
“All right,” Thom said uncertainly. “I could go for a pint.”
“Can I come?” Calyn asked, eager. “I’ve never been to a tavern.”
“No,” Thom said without hesitation. “It’s no place for a lady.”
“I’ve gone many times,” Evylin countered.
“You’re not a lady,” Thom teased.
Deckard could see that Calyn was about to press, so he said, “Forgive us for abandoning you, Calyn. I’d like some time with my brother, as I’m sure you’d appreciate time alone with Evylin.”
Calyn’s expression shifted with understanding. “Oh, yes.” She nodded vehemently. “I understand perfectly. The relationship of a sibling is profoundly important. You’re good to desire quality time with your brother.”
Evylin pressed her lips together as though holding in a laugh, and Thom rolled his eyes, evidently seeing through Deckard’s request.
“Shall we get to it?” Thom said, standing.
Evylin rose to gather the dishes and kissed Deckard’s cheek. “Don’t stay out too late,” she whispered.
Deckard forced his expression to remain stolid. Surreptitiously, he brushed her thigh, hidden by the folds of her skirt. “I won’t,” he promised, then followed Thom to the door.