CHAPTER THIRTY #2
The men looked at her, surprised. Deckard’s brow pinched together in that worried way of his. Her heart ached at the sight of it.
She drew her shoulders back, giving confidence to her claim. “It isn’t ideal, but it’s our best chance.”
Ethenn sighed. “I agree,” he said, resignedly. “You said it yourself, Colonel. We can’t all stay here waiting for Highlady Calder to wake up. But someone has to.”
Deckard hesitated, his pacing coming to a halt. His eyes flashed between the two of them. “I take it you’re both saying this from a strategic position as Warriors?”
Though Evylin assumed it was true for Ethenn, she lied when she said, “It’s what Hewitt would do.” Instantly, guilt clawed at her heart, having used her uncle’s memory to manipulate him like that.
Hand still on his jaw, Deckard’s thumb ran along his lower lip as he thought. The movement drew too much of Evylin’s attention, spiking her agitation as she remembered the passion of their kiss in Dunneshead.
Blinking to clear her mind, Evylin stared at the ground. Just the thought redoubled her resolve. “We don’t have a choice. Someone has to stay with Ilain while the others go on. Splitting up protects the Relics and increases our odds of survival.”
Deckard’s attentive green-blue gaze met hers. She feared that he’d see through her, divining the truth behind her words. Instead, he sighed, accepting her assertion. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, then turned to Auden. “How do we go about this?”
Temporary relief assuaged Evylin.
With a bearing of great trepidation and sadness, Auden took a seat next to his sister. “I’ll stay with Ilain,” he said decisively. “And Ethenn, I’d like you to come with us, if you’re willing.”
Unsure whose willingness he was asking for—Ethenn’s or Deckard’s—Evylin didn’t particularly care.
That did nothing to aid her designs. “No,” she said too sharply.
They turned to her, wide-eyed. She softened her tone as she excused her reaction.
“I need to train Ethenn. We’ve only just found out he’s a Warrior. His magic is completely untested.”
Deckard eyed her for a second too long before agreeing. “Besides, if we’re splitting the Relics, that means one group will need to take Thom and the other, Rafferty,” he said.
The two men looked at one another as they sat side by side.
Rafferty furrowed his brow. “I don’t like that,” he said. “Who will I make fun of then?”
Thom swatted at his friend, but Rafferty evaded the slap easily.
“Yes,” Auden said, ignoring their antics. “You’re right, of course. Very well, Thom can stay with us. And we’ll keep the Night and Fire Relics, so long as you approve.”
Evylin’s agitation grew. When Deckard opened his mouth to respond, she cut across him. “That doesn’t work either,” she insisted. “You have to train Jonn.”
Auden frowned as though he’d forgotten about Deckard’s dangerous magical predicament. “Mm, you’re right.” He scratched his temple, working through the problem. “But I can’t go with you and leave Ilain to travel with Thom alone.”
“’Cause it’s improper?” Rafferty asked.
The look on Auden’s face said he didn’t put stock in Thom and Ilain’s flirtations. “Because it’s too dangerous,” he said.
Wondering how Auden could be so dense, Evylin offered the ready solution. “Then I’ll take Ethenn with me, and Jonn will stay with you.”
Deckard’s eyes flashed up, locking on her face.
The rest of the team looked between them, genuine confusion on all the men’s faces—except for Thom, who wore a curious, almost worried expression.
But Evylin didn’t have time to take in her brother-in-law’s shocked demeanor.
Not while she was trapped under Deckard’s knowing stare.
He knew. She could see it in his stoic expression, in the flicker of pain in his ever-changing eyes. He knew her aim. He knew she was trying to get away from him.
Evylin swallowed past the tightness in her throat, turning away from him.
Still too daft to understand, Auden sighed. “That won’t work either. It isn’t ideal, but Ethenn will be fine without immediate training. He’ll go with Thom and Ilain, and I’ll come with you, Jonn, and Rafferty.”
Evylin curled her hands into fists. “Absolutely not,” she insisted. “I won’t send Ethenn out untrained. If we want to ensure our survival, he’ll need to be as strong as possible. The clearest answer is in front of us.”
Auden brushed a hand through the air dismissively. “I won’t split a man and his wife.”
Evylin ground her teeth. She wanted to shout at Auden for his obtuseness.
“All the more so,” he continued, “I won’t split a Mage from his Warrior.”
“I’m not his Warrior.” The words came out clipped and abrupt before Evylin could stop them.
But they made Auden hesitate. It also made Deckard draw back, lips pressing together. Thom, Ethenn, and Rafferty all sat quietly, watching nervously.
“Evylin,” Deckard murmured, giving a small shake of his head.
Determined not to back down, Evylin disregarded his warning. “You have no reason not to split us,” she told Auden. “It’s what’s best for everyone.”
Shifting in his seat, Auden continued to frown. “Perhaps you haven’t Bonded, but as husband and wife, you share a connection that’s more powerful than—”
“Are you blind?” Evylin blurted, tone fierce and angry. Her heart pounded in her ears, hysteria threatening her mind. Pressure built in her chest, desperate to find release. “It isn’t like that between us.”
“Evylin,” Deckard said her name like an admonition.
She wouldn’t look at him . . . couldn’t. She refused to be dissuaded, glaring at Auden as she sealed their fate. “Our marriage is convenience alone. I’m no more connected to him than I am to you.”
The silence that met Evylin’s words was deafening.
The early morning light, however gray, was too bright, too revealing for the dark lies she’d spoken.
A gentle breeze carried the rainy mist off to another part of the woods, leaving them to the consequences of her rejection.
Evylin’s throat was raw, and her body felt empty.
Had she really said those damning words?
Deckard spoke her name once more, strong and demanding. Her gaze snapped to his of its own volition. She sucked in an instant, choppy breath at the hurt she found there. Instead of the anger he had every right to feel, she saw only disappointment.
Evylin’s lips parted in a silent urge to tell him what she’d said wasn’t true. They did have a connection. A deep, vibrant connection that made her feel more alive than any adventure she’d ever dreamed of.
She clamped her mouth shut, enclosing those thoughts deep inside her chest. She couldn’t give voice to them, not when the world was cruel and would undoubtedly leave them in unending sorrow.
Painful seconds passed as the men scrutinized them. Evylin’s face flushed. Why had she made such a scene? Why couldn’t she have kept a level head? Now, they knew—they all knew that the marriage between Evylin and Deckard could legally be broken.
Deckard straightened his back, his expression going blank. A vein pulsed in his neck. “We need to talk,” he said in a frighteningly calm voice.
Tears threatened, but Evylin wouldn’t back down. She was close—so, so close—to being free of him, to breaking the hold he had on her. “Then talk,” she replied.
Deckard took in a deep breath, chest rising with tension. “You and I need to talk,” he clarified, “alone.”
Mouth dry, Evylin knew she couldn’t allow that. She couldn’t give him the chance to talk her out of this. Being alone with him, being close to him, being honest with him—his very presence could convince her. She couldn’t give in.
Evylin shook her head, desperate to remain with the others.
Thom shifted in his seat. “Jonn,” he said, sympathy in his tone, “if she doesn’t want—”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Deckard snapped.
Thom glared at him as though he’d been struck by his words.
Deckard turned back to Evylin and took one long stride closer. “I have proven my patience to you time and again, Evylin,” he said, the words low and foreboding. “I’d advise you not to test its limits.”
The truth caused Evylin to hesitate. Deckard had been exceedingly patient with her.
His accommodation knew no bounds. Yet, the fierceness in his stare and the firm set of his jaw made it clear: This was no empty threat.
If she didn’t go willingly, he would forcibly carry her into the woods to have this conversation.
“Fine,” Evylin said shakily, grasping onto whatever anger she could muster. “Let’s have your talk.”
Taking what little control remained to her in the situation, Evylin turned on her heel and marched into the morning fog.
She heard Rafferty murmur something but couldn’t make it out past the pounding in her head.
Her muscles trembled with fatigue and dread.
Every step through the trees felt like a battle all its own.
She was too tired for this fight. She wanted to lie down, close her eyes, and disappear.
Mud squelched under their feet. The gray fog enveloped them, golden beams of sunlight refracted through its haze. Droplets of water shone on the bushes and budding trees. Its mystic beauty felt hostile to Evylin, mocking her as she made the most painful choice of her life.
She didn’t know how long they walked, but it wasn’t long enough before Deckard caught her arm.
She whirled around to glare at him. Their breath came out in rapid, uneven bursts, frustration, disappointment, and hurt filling the air.
Neither spoke as they stared at one another with the weight of her admission and lies between them.
Deckard opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. He shook his head and released her. Then began pacing the woods.
Evylin crossed her arms, struggling to maintain her conviction. “What did you want to discuss?” she asked, fighting to keep her words flat and emotionless.
Raking his hands through his hair, Deckard turned back to her. “Do you know what you’ve just done?”
Evylin shrugged, unwilling to accept his vague accusation.