Page 94 of Sword & Shadow
He was silent for several seconds. Then he sighed. “No.”
Evylin bit the inside of her lip to keep from grimacing. “Jonn,” she tried to look up at him but couldn’t, “please, I—I need to go with him.”
Deckard ran a hand over his mouth and beard as though holding in his response. His booted feet shifted in the soggy terrae. “It’s too dangerous,” he said at last.
“Don’t do that,” she said, her voice hollow and tired. “Don’t pretend you’re protecting me when you know I can defend myself. It’s less dangerous for me to go than for you.”
“You’re more valuable than I am,” he argued.
“Not anymore.”
“Warriors are in shorter supply than Mages.”
Evylin had anticipated difficulty in convincing Deckard, but now faced with it, she felt ill-prepared for the task. Her eyes burned with welling emotion, and she forced herself to take a long breath before trying another approach. “Try to understand,” she murmured, desperation stealing her voice. “Ineedto go.”
Deckard stepped forward instinctively. His hand slipped out from under his cloak to reach for her, but he stopped himself. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed.
“Evylin,” he said gently, “I can’t risk you.”
That carved a hole in Evylin’s heart. He couldn’t risk her, and she couldn’t risk him. But they meant it in two entirely different ways. His affection tugged at hers. She’d begun to feel for him all those weeks ago, something beyond camaraderie but without a proper term. Over the course of their marriage, she’d come to find herself desirous of him beyond companionship. If Hewitt hadn’t died...
Setting a hand to her head, Evylin tried to stave off the ache that shot across her temples. Her chest compressed, her limbs shaking. “I can’t—” She cut herself off, trying to breathe.
Now, Deckard did reach for her.
He took hold of her arms, dipping his head to hold her gaze. “Stop,” he said brusquely, not out of anger but instruction. “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop.”
“I can’t,” she muttered again.
Every time she blinked, it was like she was back under the water, her body thrashing helplessly. She could taste the salt. Her lungs tensed. She was drowning, and she couldn’t get out.
“Evylin—” Deckard’s tone was forceful as his hands cupped her face. The cold of his palms nipped at her cheeks, drawing her eyes to his. “Stop.”
Staring back at him, Evylin’s heart lurched. Her lips parted, and her breath caught. His eyes were so green in this light, his expression so adamant. Her skin tingled where he touched her, the magic within her rousing to him. Every muscle relaxed, and the panic receded as her senses came alive.
“Warriors and Mages are meant to be together.”
Evylin jerked back. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said, words coming freely at last.
Deckard’s hands dropped back to his sides as he studied her. He didn’t seem hurt so much as surprised. “Do what?”
Desperate to be rid of him, to be safe from the mesmerizing pull he had on her magic—on her heart—she found herselfreacting wildly. “Any of this,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms out to encompass the whole world. “Since the moment I gave the Relic back to Rafferty, I’ve been crumbling. Haven’t you seen that?”
His downcast expression confirmed that he had.
“Every moment, I feel like I’m drowning,” she admitted, the tears burning behind her eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop thinking about death and the fact that every single one of us is moments away from losing our lives too.”
Taking a step back, Evylin bumped into a tree. She recoiled, the world pressing in, the mist oppressive, the fog smothering. “I can’t take it anymore,” she said raggedly. “These trees are maddening. This infernal rain is—is—I can’t do this.”
The first tear escaped her, and Evylin drew in a painful breath. “Ineedto go with him,” she pleaded.
Deckard stood still, sorrow etched in his features. His shoulders sagged as he scanned her. She could see how it hurt him to watch her in this state. He wanted to help. He desired to comfort her. But he simply listened, giving her the space she’d requested.
Evylin almost hated him for his goodness. Part of her wished that he wouldn’t respect her decisions so much. She wished he’d throw aside his decency and pull her into his arms, forcing her hand. She longed for the choice to be taken from her. If only he weren’t so noble and virtuous, then she wouldn’t have to deny herself.
But Deckardwasgood. And for that very reason, shehadto protect herself from him.
“I have to go,” Evylin said one last time, determination lacing her every word.
