Page 163 of Sword & Shadow
Ethenn gave her a sympathetic look. “I thought you should know,” he said softly.
Suddenly, Evylin found herself tugging on her rings. It was the last thing she’d expected to worry about. From the start, she’d viewed Thom as a friend. Throughout their travels, she’d come to see him as a brother. Hearing that he might harbor an infatuation with her...
The blood drained from Evylin’s head. If Ethenn was right, if Thom had feelings for her, then her announcement that her marriage to Deckard wasn’t real might seem to be an invitation.
Evylin twisted her rings, the onyx stones rough against her fingertips. She rejected all thoughts of Thom’s affections. During the entirety of their relationship, she’d never felt anything but friendship from him. Until he proved otherwise, she wouldn’t trust a drunken admission that might have been misinterpreted. Ethenn wasn’t privy to Thom’s jealousy of Deckard. Perhaps he’d misunderstood altogether.
No, Evylin wouldn’t believe one account. But shewouldtake Ethenn’s advice.
From that moment on, Evylin would be careful with Thom.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
28TH OF CHRONOS, 1574
“You’ve forgotten everything I taught you,” Hewitt’s ghost said as Deckard’s sword dropped into the mud, disarmed by Rafferty.
The weasel’s silver eyes twinkled as he spun the long hunting knife. After losing his short swords in the Wind Keep, he’d taken to wielding the blade along with one of the backups he’d brought from Ephria. Though they wouldn’t usually spar with real weapons, they didn’t have much choice, as Evylin and Ethenn had taken the practice swords with them, and the trees in the marshes were too springy to make good temporary weapons.
“You taking it easy on me, Colonel?” Rafferty said snarkily.
Deckard looked beyond Rafferty’s shoulder to meet Hewitt’s gaze. “I got distracted,” he replied to both of them.
“Thinking about Evylin again?” Rafferty teased, oblivious to the ghost’s presence.
“Probably,” Hewitt said.
Deckard found himself grinning. “If I were thinking about Evylin, I would have won.”
The men ranged across the small island, its long grasses bowing as they traversed and trained. Murky water stretched for miles. Willows and cypress trees towered over them, creating adense canopy that blocked out the sky. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the treetops, reflecting off the marsh waters.
At the edge of their island, the horses grazed lazily. The marshes were waist-deep on men, but the horses made their trek bearable.
Deckard and Rafferty had left Auden on the small inlet they’d used for their camp in search of enough ground to train. After the first few days of their journey, Rafferty began to complain of boredom. He’d insisted that they should start sparring to keep their skills up. So every day, Deckard would train with Auden during their rides and with Rafferty during the evening.
Sometimes, their marshy camp islands were big enough to spar on. Other times, like today, they had to seek out better ground.
Amidst all his practice and training, Deckard had learned two things. First, he had indeed lost some of the progress he’d made with Hewitt. And second, his control over his magic was rapidly and disturbingly increasing.
Ever since making the plan to summon Hewitt so Evylin could talk with him, Deckard had kept the ghost around permanently. He’d been cautious at first, wary that Auden would discover his deepening connection with Night. When the Mage showed no signs of noticing, Deckard grew more confident.
It felt good to have Hewitt around once again. The ghost coached him through the sparring, giving him much-needed lessons. Hewitt had even given Deckard the idea of training in hand-to-hand combat with Rafferty, bringing those skills up to par. “Mages rely too much on their magic,” Hewitt said. “While you lot are busy waving your hands around, an attacker can sneak up on you. You’d best learn to defend yourself without weapons or magic.”
Beyond the improvement of his martial skills, Deckard enjoyed having his mentor’s company ever at his side. It gavehim a false connection to Evylin, despite the hundreds of miles separating them.
Rafferty surveyed Deckard as he reset his stance. “You want to go again?” he asked in surprise.
“Are you getting tired?” Deckard asked. He’d come to understand that conversation with the man was best executed with witty quips. That was the only way to earn Rafferty’s good opinion. “By all means, concede.”
“You’re the old man here,” Rafferty said. “I’ll still be crowing when you’re cold in your grave.”
Knowing that Auden held more than a decade on him and Deckard would, in fact, live far longer than Rafferty, he chose not to correct him.
Deckard charged, beginning the next bout. At the start of their training, Deckard found it difficult to keep up with Rafferty’s dual-wielded blades. It forced him to be more alert, watching for both sword and knife at once. However, he’d picked up the nuances of the skill faster than he would have with Hewitt standing at his side, offering advice and tidbits to improve all the while.
“You’ve put too little pressure on his right blade,” Hewitt warned. “He’ll escape you. Watch out for his underhand. Don’t focus so much on the blades. Keep a watch—he’s going to kick your leg out from—oh, you idiot.”
Deckard sprawled on the thick grass. Hewitt’s guidance had whipped Deckard back into shape, but Rafferty was still too wily at times.
