CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Under the cover of night, the troop tore through the countryside.
They passed the city of Keale, the capital of Lady Renaul’s county, about a mile into their ride.
Even during the late hours, lights glittered in windows and from the parapets of the city wall.
Under the guidance of the Alliance members, they gave the settlement a wide berth.
An hour after clearing the city, they eased their pace to give the horses a rest. And that was when Thom realized the true cost of their escape.
In the heat of the moment, adrenaline had kept him going.
Now, his head pounded with fatigue. After three days under Caustin’s cruel conditions and a sleepless night, his aching body was ready to give up.
Thom looked over his friends, realizing they all looked the same as he felt.
Ilain and Auden had fared the worst of them all.
The siblings both sagged in their saddles, their pale skin ghostly in the moonlight.
Ilain’s usually fiery hair looked more like rust, hanging in limp curls around her shoulders.
Her head drooped like a wilted flower. He realized that her bravado from before had expended what little energy she retained just before she started to fall.
Cursing under his breath, Thom spurred his horse forward, ready to catch her. Then Ethenn was there, as he always was. The kid—the young man, Thom mentally corrected—steadied Ilain with his arm around her back.
Thom pulled up short, arriving at their side just as Ilain quipped, “My hero.”
“Yeah, shut up,” Ethenn said with a lighthearted tilt. “I’m too tired to be made fun of.”
Thom raised his brow. “Have you finally figured out how to banter, Loxley?” he asked.
Ethenn gave him a wary glance but didn’t reply.
“Here,” Thom guided his horse to the other side of Ilain’s, “let me help.” Together, they got Ilain onto the saddle with Ethenn. She slumped against the hunter’s chest, her lids heavy and her limbs trembling.
“You all right there, milady?” Thom asked as he tied her horse off to his.
Resting her head back on Ethenn’s shoulder, she closed her eyes and mumbled, “Leave me alone to die in peace.”
Thom smiled and gave Ethenn a nod. Ilain would be just fine.
After checking in with Auden to ensure his security, Thom allowed himself to lapse into solitude.
None of their band felt much like talking after all they’d endured.
At the front of the line, Emmaas and Isla led, with Deckard and Evylin right behind.
The rest of them fanned out as they cantered through the hills away from the main road.
After several hours, the sun finally broke on the horizon, turning the sky golden.
A light fog drifted near the mountains to the north.
They headed for a thick stand of trees, stopping for a short break to let themselves recover as much as the horses.
Isla passed out some small rations of dried meat and fruit.
It wasn’t much, but it would sustain them.
Thom gave his portion to Ilain to split with Auden, his hunger somewhat abated by the prior night’s feast that Renaul had intended to be their last.
Despite their freedom earned, none of them spoke of it or rejoiced yet.
Not only were they too tired, but Thom knew they felt the same way he did.
There was no true victory until they were safely away from any hunting party Renaul had undoubtedly sent to find them.
Wherever that safety might be found, whether with the Alliance or in Ephria, Thom didn’t know.
In the subdued atmosphere of recovery, Thom watched the band carefully.
Isla stayed with the Calders, hovering like a mother—or more appropriately, he supposed, like a sister.
Ethenn sat nearby, staring dejectedly at nothing while he chewed on a strip of dried venison.
Rafferty sprawled under the low-hanging boughs of a hawthorn, promptly passing out.
Jarrad and Emmaas stood to the side, strategizing in hushed tones.
Meanwhile, Deckard and Evylin sat against the trunk of a tree away from the rest of the group. Her head rested on his shoulder, neither of them speaking.
Thom’s heart squeezed. But not out of jealousy. Out of guilt. How had he not seen it? In all their time together, how could he have been so blind, so bitter? Why couldn’t he see what was so plainly before him: They were perfect for one another.
Stepping across the small enclosure of trees, Thom joined Emmaas and Jarrad. They paused their conversation, scanning him curiously. “How long do we intend to break here?” Thom asked.
“Only an hour,” Emmaas said. “I’d like us to be out of Nirraus County before lunch.”
Though Thom had no idea how large the county was, he nodded. “Great, thanks.”
Leaving the men behind, Thom made up his mind. He couldn’t put it off any longer. An hour was more than enough. He set his jaw and made his approach.
“Do you have a second?” he asked.
Deckard and Evylin looked up at him.
Realizing he needed to be more specific, Thom turned to his brother. “I’d like to, uh—I’d like to talk with you.”
Though Deckard hesitated, Evylin patted his arm encouragingly. “Go on,” she said. “I promise to be here when you get back.”
With a heavy sigh, Deckard pushed himself off the ground.
The shadows seemed to cling to his face, giving him a haggard look.
He motioned for Thom to lead the way, and they began to move toward the trees.
The space between them could have allowed three men to walk side by side in the gap.
Neither bothered with small talk or pleasantries.
They were too tired for that. Moreover, they were too aware of the potential for argument in their weary states.
The impending conversation was twenty-seven years in the making, and neither wanted to rush into it.
Far enough from the others to speak securely, even should a raised voice be a possibility, Deckard stopped first. He crossed his arms and met Thom’s stare. “What did you want to discuss?” he asked calmly.
Too calmly.
Thom tried not to let his hackles rise. “You know, don’t you?” he said.
“I assume,” Deckard replied. “But I’d rather give you the opportunity to lead this conversation.”
Thom shut his eyes. He couldn’t look at his brother.
Not when he was trying to hold it together.
Why did Jonn have to be so damned accommodating all the time?
It would be easier if he simply got angry like everyone else.
Instead, he threw his goodness in Thom’s face, making him feel inferior for having such contentious emotions.
Albeit unintentional, it was bloody annoying.
In an attempt to quell his rising irritation, Thom took a steadying breath. “I need you to stop doing that,” he said.
Deckard frowned. “Doing what?”
“Being so high and mighty.”
Immediately, Deckard bristled.
Thom tossed his hands in the air, already exasperated. “I want to apologize. But I can’t promise I won’t make this worse if you don’t stop acting like I’m a child.”
Deckard pinched the bridge of his nose like a long-suffering parent. “You don’t have to do this, Thom,” he said, then took a step back toward the camp. “You’re my brother. I’ll always forgive you, even for this.”
“Stop it!” Thom exclaimed in a sharp and cutting tone. “I’m not apologizing for you, you stupid git. I’m doing it for myself.”
Deckard froze, exhaustion plain on his face. Then he scoffed. “All right, go ahead then. Apologize so that you feel better.”
Thom groaned, holding his hands out in desperation. “Why can’t you see what you’re doing? I’m trying, Jonn. I’m really trying. But you’re making this so bloody difficult.”
“I’m making it difficult?”
“Yes!”
Deckard glared at him. “I’m not the one who asked my brother’s wife to leave him. You can’t get much more difficult than that, Thom.”
Agitated and too worn out to control his temper, Thom began to pace. “This is unbelievable.”
“Oh, I’m sorry my hurt is too confusing for you to believe. Would you like me to explain it to you?”
A thousand words tried to burst out of Thom at once, and he just wound up spluttering indignantly for a few seconds before shouting something that sounded something like, “Bwah!”
Deckard sighed with disappointment.
Somehow, that discontented sound brought back Thom’s ability to articulate.
“I don’t understand you, Jonn. I’m trying to tell you that I’m sorry, but you slough it off as though what I did doesn’t matter.
Of course, you’re hurt. She’s your wife, and I tried to undermine your relationship with her—multiple times!
But I’m trying to explain that I didn’t know what I was doing. ”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Deckard demanded. “You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew I loved her, so you wanted her just like you wanted everything else I ever had. Not because you loved her yourself but because you couldn’t stand to see me happy.”
“Exactly!” Thom yelled triumphantly. He let out a hysterical laugh, thankful that he didn’t have to explain himself. “I didn’t love her. I never wanted her—not really. But I didn’t realize that until after it happened.”
That surprised Deckard. He stood there, lips parted and brow pinched.
Thom knew why. In all their fights, Thom was careful never to admit his competitive nature.
He’d always clung to the pretense he was in some way just as injured as Deckard in their fights.
Though he was the instigator, he played the victim.
He refused to take responsibility, instead blaming his brother for his resentment.
In Deckard’s hesitation, Thom pressed on. “I didn’t know what I was doing, Jonn,” he repeated somberly. “I didn’t realize that all it was—all it had ever been—was me wishing I was you.”
Deckard drew back as though Thom had struck him. “What?”