CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #3
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.
Either way, for her to make the decision, they’d all have to make it through this mission.
“We’re being foolish,” Evylin muttered. “This isn’t something you can simply ignore, Jonn. You’re a Mage. You’ve always been one, even if you didn’t realize it until the Keeps drew it out of you. And if we want to succeed, you need to accept that.”
Deckard looked crestfallen. “So you want me to train?”
“I don’t see another choice.”
His shoulders drooped, and he stared out into the forest for several aching seconds.
Finally, he spoke again with a tone of hollow acceptance.
“I didn’t ask for this, Evylin,” he said, almost as though begging her to understand.
“If given the choice, I would have lived the rest of my life never knowing.”
At first, Evylin didn’t understand why he felt the need to tell her this. She frowned, slowly realizing that this was his way of assuring her that he didn’t want to Bond any more than she did. A fact that she doubted but chose to believe.
Still, it didn’t change their greater problem.
“We can’t let the Calders find out about the status of our marriage,” she said. “I will be honest with you, Jonn, I . . . I would like to stay with you. But I’m not ready to make that choice when my heart is still broken.”
Deckard watched her, lips parted as though surprised by her admission.
“Regardless of our future choices,” she continued, “the Calders can’t know that our marriage can be dissolved—that we aren’t in love.”
Though he hesitated, Deckard nodded.
Evylin clenched her jaw, facing the unwelcome truth. “Which means that we’ll have to make them believe that it’s real.”
Cautiously, he watched her as if she were a wild animal that could be easily startled if he moved or spoke too suddenly.
She ignored the agitation his careful movements stirred within her and went on, “We have to return to the couple we were before.”
“You’re still in mourning,” he said gently. “They wouldn’t expect that to change overnight.”
“It’s been weeks.”
“And Auden knows what you went through with the Relic.” He stepped forward in a near-comforting manner. “Nothing has to change. I promised you time, and I meant it. They don’t have to understand what the distance between us means, because they’ll believe it’s only a reflection of your recovery.”
Though Evylin was grateful for his surprising willingness to give her space, she shook her head. “It can’t go on forever, Jonn. If I’m to play the role, I can’t push you away. A woman who loves her husband would take solace in him.”
“Not if the woman blamed her husband,” he argued. “Auden was there, remember? He heard you blame me. And he knows that I took the Relic from you. Which is yet another reason for your distance. He’ll believe it if you hold me at arm’s length for a time.”
“And you think that will convince them?”
“They don’t know the purpose of our marriage.” He raised his brow encouragingly. “They have no reason to doubt us.”
Evylin should have felt lightened by his offer. It should have eased her fears. She could keep the distance between them without the worry of alerting the Calders. Deckard would become a Mage, their chances of survival would rise, and she could protect what little of her heart remained intact.
So why did she feel so disappointed?
“All right,” she murmured, then took a restoring breath that fell woefully short. “You will train, and in the meantime, we’ll remain as we are.”
“This will change nothing,” he promised.
But Evylin knew that wasn’t true.
As they walked back to camp, a detached distance between them, she knew that everything had changed.
No matter if they duped the Calders with their act, no matter if the Alliance never forced their hand, in the playful toss of a Relic, Deckard himself had changed.
He wasn’t the captain she’d married; he wasn’t the friend she’d come to know.
He was a Mage now. And according to Ilain, that meant he was all but made for Evylin.
The thought rankled in her chest like a wound improperly stitched together.
She didn’t want to be destined for Deckard.
Her life was already filled with devastation and bone-deep pain.
She’d lost Ryen. She’d lost Hewitt. If her heart were bound to Deckard’s, if their very existence was drawing them together, then the loss of him would be beyond compare.
The rain began again as they walked back to camp.
They pulled their hoods over their heads, and Evylin sank into her resolve.
If she wasn’t going to stay with Deckard, then she had to be certain she wasn’t damning herself to a life of misery.
Destiny, fate, serendipity, Allore’s divine influence—whatever the Mages wanted to call it.
She would not be beholden to their dictates. Not when she’d already lost too much.