Page 70 of Sword & Shadow
Sorrowful clarity came to Deckard at his words. “It wasn’t only her dream you were fulfilling with our marriage. It was Ryen’s too.”
Hewitt shrugged dismissively. “They are inseparable in my mind. Ryen, Evylin. Doesn’t matter what name you use, they are the same to me.”
Rather certain that wasn’t appropriate, Deckard didn’t bother pointing it out to the man. “Does she even want it?” he asked instead. “Adventure. Is it really whatshewants, or is it just whattheywanted?”
“I’m sure she doesn’t know. His dreams were her dreams, and the same for him. When he died, she never took the time to question what she wanted. Their dream remained because she couldn’t bear to let him go.”
“And you didn’t think to help her find her own dreams after all this time?”
Hewitt laughed, gruff and callous. “Don’t you understand yet? Our relationship was never healthy, Deckard. She used me as a link to him, as I used her. I love her more than I can say, but I doubt I’d have felt that way if she hadn’t been so closely tied to my son.”
Deckard supposed there was some bravery in the man’s admission. It shed light on many of the nuances of their relationship that he hadn’t understood. And it made Evylin’s despair even clearer. She wasn’t just mourning Hewitt; she was mourning Ryen for a second time too.
That thought brought another insight along with it. “I can’t do what you did for her,” Deckard said. “I can’t help her move on because I have no link to Ryen. Whatever I try, it won’t do any good because she’s still not over her loss of him.”
“Now, you’re getting it.”
Deckard sighed, tossing his hands to the side. “Then what am I supposed to do? Stand by while she aimlessly suffers through her misery? Wait for her to miraculously find a reason to live outside of him?”
“She’s still living, isn’t she?”
“She’s surviving.”
Hewitt shook his head. “If Evylin were done with this world, she would crawl into a hole and let herself die there. As she’sactively working to save the world, I’d say she hasn’t quite given up yet.”
“So you’re saying there’s hope?”
“I’m saying,” his sharp gray eyes cut through the darkness, “that she’s already found a reason to live. She’s just too afraid to admit it.”
Deckard narrowed his gaze, sure he’d understood but equally sure that Hewitt couldn’t be correct. “She told me she wants space,” he said. “That she needs time.”
“Like I said,” Hewitt replied. “She’s afraid.”
“Of what? My willingness to comply?” He scoffed. “I’m fairly certain I’ve made my desire to be her husband explicitly clear.”
Hewitt heaved a disgruntled sigh. “How many layers of idiocy do I have to peel back before I finally discover some common sense in that brain of yours?” He stepped forward to emphasize his next words. “She’s afraid of loving you. Of trusting you.”
Deckard listened warily as Hewitt continued. “Evylin has only ever allowed two people to see her heart: me and Ryen. We were the only ones she truly trusted because we were the only ones who didn’t ask her to be anything but herself.”
“Neither have I,” Deckard said.
Hewitt raised a scraggly eyebrow. “You want to get in her trousers. That’s the most blatant and untrustworthy agenda a man can have.”
Abashed, Deckard muttered, “I would never act on that desire without her consent.”
“But it is your ultimate aim. And she can sense that.”
“That’s not true. Even if I never—if we never had that sort of relationship, I would accept it. Having her in my bed is not an objective for me to reach.”
“Then what is your objective?”
“Her,” he said honestly. “Just her.”
The ghost stared back at him.
“All I want,” Deckard said, ready to bare his heart, “is to give her the life I promised: to love her, no matter what that looks like. I swore to take her across Ephria and help her find the place she loves the most, to give her the future she deserves. I want to see her happy. Whether that’s with me or...or not.”
Hewitt crossed his arms. “She’d take offense to that.”
