Page 81 of Sword & Shadow
Evylin let out an exasperated huff. “If you’re convinced that remaining as merely a normal soldier won’t ruin the world, then why are we still talking about it?”
He clamped his jaw shut, and she knew the answer.
“You can’t help being a martyr, can you?” she said coldly. “You want me to tell you not to be a Mage simply so you don’t have to feel guilty for rejecting the responsibility. I won’t do that, Jonn. This is not a decision that we have to make together because it’s not a decision that’s relevant to me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Deckard said. He took a step closer, pointing between the two of them. “The Calders believe this is real. They think that you and I love one another. And the Alliance is desperate for Warriors and Mages who can be Bonded together.”
Evylin frowned, her worries realized. “Do you know that for sure?”
He began to nod, slowly and damningly. “Auden told me that they need eight Bonded couples to carry the Relics at the end of all this. And they are in drastically short supply of female Warriors.”
A horrible suspicion crept up Evylin’s spine.
“Married,” Deckard continued, “you and I are a valuable asset. Single, we aretwovaluable assets.”
Evylin instantly understood. “If they find out we aren’t truly married, they’ll make us marry someone else.”
Deckard’s sharp stare confirmed it.
She pressed her lips together, considering. “So...it’s Bond with you or Bond with another stranger.”
His eyes narrowed at her choice of words, but he didn’t comment on her equating him with a stranger. “It seemsprobable,” he admitted. “However, if I don’t become a Mage, then this isn’t an issue. We can continue with our lives as before, and neither the Calders nor the Alliance ever have to discover the status of our marriage.”
A small fragment of hope eased Evylin’s worry. Deckard was right. If he didn’t train as a Mage, then the Alliance couldn’t hope to make them Bond. They could make it through this mission the same as they always had, pretending to be a true couple. No one would question them, and no one would force her to marry someone else.
The thought gave Evylin pause. “So that’s what this is about,” she realized. “You’re worried that I’d choose another Mage over you.”
Deckard pinched the bridge of his nose. But instead of looking guilty, he just looked more annoyed. “Evylin,” he said her name with a long-suffering sigh. “When will you realize that I’m not trying to control you? I’m presenting you with the information and giving you a choice. I can accept the fact that I’m a Mage, take Auden and Ilain’s training, and give us greater odds of success. Or I can reject it and ensure that the Alliance never asks us to do anything we don’t want to. Either way, at the end of this, whether you ask for an annulment or to spend the rest of our lives together, I will not hesitate to give you whatever you request.”
His words fell on Evylin with such deep exhaustion, a weariness that spoke of such prolonged strain, that it almost hurt. She could see it in the lines of his face, in the furrow of his brow, in the downturn of his lips. He was sincere...and he was done.
Deckard had given up attempting to woo her. He was done with hoping for her love. No matter her past affection for him or their fledgling romance prior to Hewitt’s death, her prolonged indecision and brokenhearted rejection had driven him to suchfatigue that he wasn’t merely on the verge of giving up: He had already.
Evylin tried to tell herself that it was good. That was what she wanted, what they needed. If she was going to put space between them, if she was going to protect herself and ensure she never had to endure the pain of his loss, she couldn’t hope for a better outcome. If Deckard gave up, she wouldn’t have to fight him—or her feelings—anymore.
Yet, her heart clenched, aching at the thought that she’d driven him away.
Spurning the feeling, Evylin pressed her hands against her thighs rather than twisting her rings. She returned to the matter at hand, accepting the gift of his detachment. “What if the Alliance doesn’t care what we want?” she asked. “Like Ilain said, you’re a Mage, and the magic will eventually find a way out, now that it’s begun to reveal itself. The Alliance may force you to train; they may insist you accept the role and our future Bond.”
“I’d like to believe we’re working for a better organization than that,” Deckard said, though she could hear the skepticism in his tone. “Unfortunately, I fear that you may be right. They may give us no alternative. But that wouldn’t happen until after we complete our mission with the Calders.”
“Giving me time to make a decision,” she surmised.
He raised his chin in reluctant confirmation.
Evylin’s fingers twitched. She settled them on the hilt of the dagger at her hip. It was the one she’d taken from Deckard that night in the rain. The one with rosettes etched onto the pommel. She’d never told him her middle name; he couldn’t know the design’s significance to her.
Yet, when she was wearing the Day Relic, she’d liked to imagine that he did know. That he’d chosen the dagger specifically because of her: Evylin Rosette. Now, holding his serious green-blue gaze in the night, she was glad he hadn’t.
She’d known for a while. Deckard had confessed his attraction and romantic interest to her long ago. In response, she had felt a budding affection within her own heart. Throughout their short marriage, they’d both succumbed to the early stages of romance. But while Evylin hadn’t allowed herself to feel more than a passing fancy, she knew that Deckard’s desire for her had grown beyond mere attraction, whether he would admit it aloud or not.
When it had happened, Evylin didn’t know. When in the course of their mutually beneficial arrangement did it turn into a true romance? How had he come to harbor deep feelings for her? She knew she had both inadvertently and intentionally encouraged his feelings. She felt guilty now for retracting her previous invitations and expressions of regard.
Despite her deepening attachment to him, despite her intent to be his true wife only weeks ago, at last she knew the truth: She could not love him. Should they make it through this dangerous journey unscathed, she might reconsider. If they went somewhere peaceful and safe, where she never had to fear what loving him would do to her, she might be able to entrust her heart to his care then.
However, the chance for that future seemed slim. As a Warrior, the Alliance wouldn’t want her to go off to live a simple life. And Evylin didn’t think she’d like that either. The urge for something “more” was why she’d left Whickam Village in the first place. Simplicity didn’t suit her. She—and Ryen, before his death—was meant for wild adventure, not for rote mundanity.
So what was she to choose? A life of pain with Deckard or a chance of emotionless safety with someone else.
