Page 216 of Sword & Shadow
Yet, no one saw Thom that way but himself. He couldn’t deny that. Not when he really thought about it.
Hewitt accepted him from the start, inviting him to spar in Whickam Village and handpicking him to train with Evylin, Rafferty, and Ethenn during their travels with the army.
Evylin herself had befriended him readily. She’d confided in him and invited him to do the same with her. Though it’d displeased him at the time, she’d taken him on as a brother.
Even before that, Rafferty had eagerly become his companion. Ever since joining up in Rasnaack, they’d been nearly inseparable, though he’d always assumed that had more to do with Thom’s penchant for tomfoolery rather than his true self.
And Ethenn, he put up with Rafferty and Thom’s constant teasing, choosing to become their friend despite his quiet nature.The kid, who was really no more a child than Thom, didn’t shy away from Thom’s volatile temperament or biting comments. He stuck around, laughed along, and proved to be a better man than the two of them put together.
Then there was Deckard, the brother who loved him despite all his failings.
That was the worst of it. Thom knew Deckard loved him, and it rankled within him. He didn’t want to be loved for who he was; he wanted to be loved for who hewantedto be.
A better man.
“I’m under no illusions about your worth.”
Despite the pain in his body, despite the fear that his selfishness had drawn them into great danger, despite regret piled upon regret, Thom found himself smiling into Ilain’s hair. She, too, had accepted him, wretch that he was. And he let her words give him hope. Perhaps he didn’t need to be a better man. Maybe he simply needed to be himself, and that would somehow be enough.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
After another full day of riding, they passed through the border and the mountains. A burst of sunshine met them as they entered the hilly countryside, emerald grass stretching for miles. Deer grazed among copses of trees, curiously watching their party ride by.
They didn’t stop until sunset again. Deckard was the first out of the wagon, given the same meal of broth and stale bread around the campfire. Caustin sat as before, watching and timing. Then he was back in the wagon.
Never in his life had Deckard felt so thoroughly uncomfortable. The aches and pains of being tightly trussed up and sitting rigidly for hours on end weren’t the worst of it. Other than their minute to relieve themselves in the evening, there was no other break from the strain. The hay absorbed some of the mess, but it did nothing to alleviate the smell. His clothes and hair were coated in grime from when they’d tackled him in the mud, and he felt gritty from the layers of sweat on his skin.
He’d considered asking the guard to dump the bucket of water on him for a reprieve but decided against breaking Caustin’s rule of absolute silence.
The men returned Evylin from her meal and gathered Rafferty. He wobbled when they lifted him, then collapsedat Deckard’s feet. The guards grumbled, but Rafferty met Deckard’s eyes and winked.
Deckard’s brow pinched together.
The weasel hadwinkedat him.
Then the guards had him back up and carried him out of the wagon. A cold sweat broke across Deckard’s back. Rafferty was up to something. He just hoped it wouldn’t get them killed.
Escorted to the fire with his bonds removed, Rafferty stretched, giving a pointed look at the wagon. His silvery eyes met Deckard’s just before he accepted the bowl from one of the men. Deckard clamped his jaw, his worry increasing. Though he assumed his magic had been restored as his energy returned, he still didn’t see their odds of escape being increased anytime soon. They couldn’t fight their way outandcarry the two unconscious Calders with them.
Rafferty took the stool across from Caustin and cleared his throat. “My arse is so numb,” he said, smirking, “I can’t even feel myself breaking wind anymore.”
It only took one second for Caustin to rise. Rafferty’s head whipped to the side from the leader’s punch. Evylin and Thom flinched at the sound, while Deckard and Ethenn watched in shock.
Caustin towered over Rafferty. “As I said, if you break my rules, there are consequences. Next time you speak, there won’t be any quarter given.”
Some of Rafferty’s soup had spilled on his trousers. He flicked off a speck of coagulated marrow, then grinned up at Caustin. “AsIsaid—” He turned and made eye contact with Deckard again. “I can’t feel myself breakwindanymore.”
Good to his word, Caustin did not hold back. He hit Rafferty again, harder than before. It drove the man off his stool. Then Caustin stooped, grabbing Rafferty’s collar. He punched him again and kicked him, over and over, until the man spat blood.
Evylin and Thom attempted to peer over their shoulders at the scene, worried for their friend. Deckard forced himself to watch it all. Every hit and kick sent a pang of guilt through him. He was their commanding officer. They were his responsibility. He should have protected them.
When they carried Rafferty back, blood streamed from his mouth. One eye was already beginning to swell. Two of his fingers protruded at odd angles; either broken or dislocated, Deckard couldn’t tell. They bound his hands anyway, then fixed him to the bars. Rafferty looked barely conscious, but as the guard stepped away, he met Deckard’s gaze once more.
Deckard dipped his chin to indicate that he understood. Rafferty was impulsive and flippant, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d accepted Caustin’s wrath to send Deckard a message.
The problem was, with his brain addled by exhaustion and hunger, Deckard couldn’t quite figure out what that message was.
35TH OF CHRONOS, 1574
