Page 137 of Sword & Shadow
“I love you, Evylin,” he said again, and the words filled her once more.
Then he stepped back, dropping his hand to his side. “And because I love you, I will keep my promise to you,” he said with finality. “When we return to Ephria, whether as members of the Alliance or not, I’ll file for an annulment.”
Evylin blinked, unable to form a reply. Her mind screamed, her heart ripping in two, and yet she stood there, immovable as stone.
Deckard’s head dipped, and his shoulders drooped. “If you would,” he said, with as little emotion as though he were addressing a fellow soldier rather than his wife. “Please inform Auden and the others that you and I agree to split up. In the meantime...I’d like a moment alone.”
Shock and despair clung to every inch of Evylin. Her muscles were leaden, and her limbs were stiff. He wasn’t supposed to agree. He wasn’t supposed to let her go. He loved her. That meant he should fight to keep her.
The tears came back, and Evylin’s feet carried her mindlessly past Deckard, into the woods toward camp. The fog still obscured the trees, oppressively looming and suffocating the light. She walked at a stilted pace, seeing nothing as she moved forward. She didn’t fully comprehend what had just happened.
Deckard loved her.
And he was going to end their marriage.
Evylin’s knees buckled. Her hand shot out, catching in time to hold her upright against a tree. Her breath came in short gasps. What had she done? Sorrow washed over her, tearing through her gut and bending her over in anguish.
She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against the tree trunk. This was why she had to end it now. If it hurt this much to leave him without loving him, what sort of unending agony would she endure if she ever truly let herself feel for him?
She’d made the right choice. She’d protected herself.
She didn’t love Jonn Deckard. After the irrevocable scarring upon her heart, she couldn’t.
So why did it feel as though she’d torn her heart from her own chest?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Deckard considered himself to be strong and sure, unshakable in the face of adversity or trouble. He prided himself on refusing to give in to fear. From childhood, he strove to emulate heroes like Euon Sergus, men who saw beyond themselves and pressed forward, regardless of the emotions that might rage inside their hearts.
But as Evylin walked away, Deckard recognized his weakness. He was frail—a man broken and devoid of hope in the wake of rejection from the woman he loved.
Deckard kept his eyes set on the forest floor as Evylin left the clearing. He watched each step of her boots, flecked with mud and the gore of fallen Mages. His heart lurched, remembering his part in those deaths. Still, his hand twitched as she passed him, urging him to reach out and stop her. Could he convince her to give him another chance to be the husband she deserved? Should he try? Or would seeking to fulfill his own unrequited affection refute the love he claimed to hold?
Once he was confident in Evylin’s departure, Deckard succumbed to his brokenness. Falling to his knees, he dropped his head in his hands. Tears blurred his vision. Isolated as he was, he let them fall readily.
For the past three months, he’d done all he knew to earn Evylin’s trust—to earn her love. He gave every part of himself to their marriage. From the moment he met her in Whickam Village, he’d liked her. He’d appreciated her wit and candor, her joy only slightly tainted by her cynicism. She was intelligent and beautiful, friendly and sincere. Everything good, everything desirable. It hadn’t been difficult for him to make his wedding vows. Even after three days of knowing her, he’d been ready to pledge his loyalty.
They’d labeled it a marriage for their mutual benefit. Yes, Deckard supposed that was true. Yet, despite losing the bet, he’d always believed he’d come out the unintended victor in the exchange.Shewas meant to have won. All the while,hewas granted the wife of his dreams.
Perhaps that was why he’d tried so hard to be the perfect husband. From the start, he was ready to love her. Since he was the one who lost the bet, he felt he should pay recompense. So he spent the last three months striving to prove his love, to make her feel she truly had come out on top. He’d attempted to demonstrate his love—herprize—through silly means like her wedding ring and new clothing. He’d taken her to Wayford and the lake at Banbury, giving her measly adventures when he couldn’t give her grand ones. He’d left notes in his absence each morning. In everything, he’d endeavored to put her first and assure her of his care.
For three months, Deckard had poured his heart and soul into their marriage. Three full months, as of yesterday.
Did she even recognize the date?he wondered. She hadn’t remembered when they’d been married a month. Why should she remember it now? Did she know the date of their marriage at all?
The weight of disappointment slammed into Deckard. He’d been warned of this outcome, first by Lawton and then by Hewitt.
“Don’t fall in love with her before she falls in love with you.”
“Don’t pledge your undying love and loyalty to her.”
Perhaps itwashis desire to love her that drove her away. Within all his caring and devotion, she’d felt manipulated rather than cherished. Now, he’d lost her. Good and truly lost her.
What was he going to tell Hewitt?
Deckard stared into the morning fog. He hadn’t spoken with the man in days. This was his first opportunity to be alone. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to summon the ghost. How could he admit this failure? Hewitt would never forgive him.
It was his fault, yet another failure. He’d pushed his affection upon Evylin through tokens and deeds, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d become a monster of Night magic’s design, all in the name of protecting her. No wonder she’d rejected him. He wasn’t worthy of her love.
