Page 147 of Sword & Shadow
but as you kept all the others, I thought you might appreciate one more.
Happy birthday, Evylin.
Yours eternally, Jonn
Evylin chewed on the inside of her lip. How just like Deckard. It was the same as all his other notes: short, direct, and perfect. She couldn’t believe he’d noticed her collection of his missives. She’d never meant to save them in the first place. Yet, she had, wrapping them in an old ribbon for safekeeping and placing them on her nightstand in their bedroom in Loclight. A mistake, she now thought.
His valediction worried her most of all. He always signed his notes with that unnecessarily sweet“Yours.”But the addition of“eternally”caused her heart to stutter.
Agitated at the sudden swell of regret and sorrow in her chest, Evylin refolded the note roughly. She stuffed it back into the pouch and tugged out the remaining object. A small, oval frame of walnut wood encased a painting that made her veins cease flowing. Usually, ornamental trinkets like this would rouse her derision. This one elicited her unyielding affection.
The tiny vignette depicted the sparkling frost of an ice-covered lake. She could almost smell the winter chill in the air.Buttercream-yellow grass contrasted with the pines dotting the valley. The intricacy of the work was beautiful; its likeness to the Wayford countryside was uncanny. This was no coincidental bauble Deckard selected for her. It was a memorial of their celebrating one month of marriage, even if it was a marriage of convenience.
And it felt like a slap in the wake of her rejection just a day prior.
Blinking rapidly to avoid the tears that rose, Evylin chose to feel irritated rather than guilty. Hurriedly, she returned the painting to the pouch. “Thank you,” she said, giving Ethenn a false smile, hoping he wouldn’t see how unsettled she was.
Ethenn kicked at the dirt. “Yeah,” he said.
Unsure what to do with the gift, Evylin clutched it to her chest. “We should, uh...” She glanced at the training swords, now lying forgotten on the ground. Theyshouldkeep training. Sheshouldfind a way to ignore Deckard’s wonderful thoughtfulness.
With a heavy sigh, Evylin picked up the swords. “I’m tired,” she said dully. “Let’s go back.”
Ethenn didn’t question her. He walked quietly at her side as she stared ahead sightlessly, her head aching with barely contained emotion. Her fingers tightened around the gift, the leather warm in her hands. Sheshouldhave found a distraction once they returned to camp. Sparring, cleaning, or conversation. Instead, she spent the rest of the evening in a stupor.
And when she lay down in the tent under the stars, she held the pouch close to her heart, wondering if she’d ever recover from this wound that bled slowly inside her chest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
He’d never witnessed anything so profoundly incredible.
Thom’s hands stilled, fish partially filleted before him, as he watched Evylin and Ethenn spar in the distance. Despite the dozens of times he’d seen them duel before, this was different. Now that Ethenn was a Warrior, now that he was intentionally tapping into his magic, the pair moved with speed and agility that no normal human could possess. Their strikes and sweeps passed through the air so fast he could hardly see them. When each bout ended, another started almost immediately.
He was tired just watching it.
“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” Ilain said wistfully. She sat at his side, the setting sun lighting her hair like a flame. “Warriors at their fullness.”
Thom gritted his teeth. A spike of jealousy filled him. He wasn’t used to feeling envious of anyone but Deckard. Yet, watching Evylin and Ethenn and hearing Ilain praise them so reverently—it bit at his pride.
“Yeah,” he said sourly, returning to his work on the fish. “It’s bloody fantastic.”
Ilain heard the bitterness in his tone. But instead of pitying him, she chuckled—she actuallychuckled.
Thom’s head snapped up. “What’s so funny?” he demanded.
She didn’t bother looking at him, deftly deboning the fish before her. “You are. You can’t be happy for anyone, can you?”
The barb snagged in his chest, making him feel ashamed as well as jealous. What a pitiful man he was.
Thom carefully laid the filleted fish on the blanket they’d laid out to dry it on. Though the day was waning and the process normally took days, Ilain would use magic to flash-dry the meat. It turned out that having a Mage aroundwasrather convenient.
“I’m working on it,” Thom muttered.
“Maybe work a little faster,” Ilain said. “Watching you sulk is getting old.”
Thom looked over at her, perturbed. “My apologies,” he said tersely. “I didn’t realize my moods were your entertainment.”
Again, Ilain laughed wryly. She reached over to set her hand on his, stopping him from continuing to mutilate the fish before him. Thom looked up at her in surprise, her bright green eyes boring into him.
