When they disappeared, Auden sat beside his brother. Thom pulled a chair in from the dining room, settling next to Brea to add his own snide remarks about the meal. Deckard intended to stay to inform them of his plans for the Space Relic’s retrieval in the morning, but Evylin excused herself, ascending the stairs quietly.
Deckard frowned, watching her go. Ever since the dinner, she’d carried a sense of uncertainty around her. He couldn’t quite name the full emotion—perhaps it was disappointment or worry—but he could tell she needed reassurance. She needed him.
“Pardon the interruption,” Deckard said, stopping Rafferty mid-sentence. “We should set out at first light tomorrow. We’ll have to seek out the Keep first, and it will likely take hours to recover the Relic once we’re inside. I’d like to ensure plenty of time for travel later in the day.”
“Won’t we need to recover for a time after battling the Keep?” Vayden asked.
“We can’t afford to,” Deckard said. “Not if we want to stay ahead of Blount.”
The group nodded with disappointment, and Deckard said his goodnights, then followed after Evylin. When he approached the second floor, Ethenn stepped out of the bedroom alone. Deckard moved out of the young man’s way, exchanging a nod and discovering the door to his study propped open. He glancedinside, finding Evylin standing behind the desk, running her fingers over its clean surface.
He leaned against the doorframe, wine glass still in hand, watching her. Her dark hair framed her face as she looked down. With the moonlight from the window at her back, she was enshrouded in light. Her unbuttoned coat hung open to reveal her white blouse. She lifted the cover of the singular book on the desk’s surface.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked softly.
Evylin jumped, setting a hand to her chest. “You startled me,” she said through a nervous chuckle.
“My sincerest apologies,” he said, moving into the room. “I didn’t intend to sneak up on you.”
She shook her head. “I was deep in thought.”
“I could tell.” He stood on the other side of the desk and grinned. “However, unless you’re concerned about my financial status, you won’t find the answers in that ledger.”
She tapped the book. “This is your financial record?”
He nodded. “Do you intend to audit me?”
Her nose scrunched playfully. “No, that’s far too dull.”
Deckard sipped his wine. “Whatareyou doing in here?”
“I just...” She scanned the room, and he followed her gaze. There wasn’t much to see. A desk, a chair, and a meager collection of books on the built-in shelves, plus an inkwell, sheaves of paper, and a cold oil lamp.
Evylin met his gaze, brow furrowed. “Do you really work in here?” she asked.
“No,” he admitted. “Aside from doing my finances, that is. Though I’d like to do more, I’m not home often enough.”
Her expression shifted, and he caught that strange emotion again. Concern? Confusion? He couldn’t be sure. “What work would you do?” she asked.
The laughter of their friends echoed up the staircase as he said, “Read and write, I suppose.”
“What would you write?”
Deckard shrugged. “Letters. Records. Maybe I’d take notes on my studies. I’m not sure; I’ve just always imagined that I’d write something.”
“I didn’t know that,” Evylin whispered, studying him as though seeing him for the first time.
Now, the emotion came through clearer, and Deckard frowned. Evylin was apprehensive. Nervous. Why?
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
Deckard set the wine glass on the desk and reached across for her hand. “Evie,” he held her gaze, “tell me.”
Evylin pulled in a shallow breath. In the unlit room, her skin appeared darker, the hollows of her cheeks deeply shadowed. She averted her gaze and pulled away. “Over the past weeks, I’ve realized something,” she said.
“And what’s that?” he asked.
