Deckard forced himself to calm down, relaxing his shoulders. “It’s all right if you don’t,” he promised. “We’re going to live up to two centuries. Children will just add to the list of those we’ll lose. I don’t mind giving that up.”
With a cold look across her face, Evylin stared at him. “What else are you willing to give up for me?” she asked. “Everything?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not fair.”
Deckard smiled gently. “I don’t mind making sacrifices for you.”
“No,” she returned sharply. “It’s not fair tome.”
He blinked, confused.
“Why are you the only one who gets to prove their love through sacrifice?” she demanded.
Deckard gaped at her, unsure of what to say.
“I love you too,” she continued. “And I’d like the chance to show you that. Yet, not only do you refuse to let me make a choice foryourbetterment over mine, but you’re also so busy loving me well that you won’t let me know who you truly are. You withhold yourself to let me be happy. That isn’t fair.”
Deckard stared at her. Emotions churned through the room like the sea, heightening the tension in his chest. He couldn’t even tell whose feelings were whose as frustration, resentment, admiration, impatience, anxiety, and desire spun through the room. The feelings were potent and intense. And he couldn’t keep his head above their swelling depths.
“What do you want me to do?” he whispered weakly.
“Tell me about yourself,” she pleaded. “That is what I want. That’s what will make me happy.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell me what youwant.”
He shook his head, unable to find the answer. “I don’t like talking about myself, Evylin.”
“But I like knowing about you,” she pressed.
He fell silent, staring at the rug beneath their feet.
Evylin took a single step toward him. “Why does it bother you so much?” she whispered gently.
Despite the soothing emotion she emitted, Deckard’s frustration couldn’t be calmed. “Because it’s not worth discussing,” he said flatly.
Her nose scrunched. “It’syouwe’re discussing.”
With no reply inside him, he simply turned away with a sigh.
“Why do you think it’s not worth it?” she asked, a deep sympathy drifting through the air. “Thatyou’renot worth it?”
The comment struck Deckard, its truth unadorned. A nervous laugh slipped out of him. “It’s not like that,” he lied. “I just don’t want people paying attention to me.”
Evylin stared at him for a single heartbeat before scoffing. “You do remember the job you had when we met, don’t you?” He frowned, but she kept on. “You spoke in front of hundreds of people, over and over again, giving a bloody fantastic speech. In each settlement in the Shire, you stood before every last citizen, and theyallpaid attention to you. And do you remember what you told them?”
“Evie—”
“You said you wanted to be the man who made the difference.” She smiled widely as though the answer should be blatant to him. “How much more attention could you ask for, Jonn?”
Deckard ground his teeth. He’d heard this argument; he’d been charged with this delusion of grandeur before. “Did Hewitt tell you this?” he asked coldly. “Has he convinced you that I want to be Euon Sergus? Or perhaps a living legend like he was? He’s wrong. I have no interest in being so important.”
Evylin’s brow tipped up knowingly. “What’s so wrong with being important? Why can’t you admit that you like admiration?”
Her blatant disregard for his denial grated against his scruples. His hands trembled at his sides, and the Night Relic weighed heavily around his neck. Certain that it was affecting his unruly emotions, Deckard quickly removed it from beneath his collar and pulled it over his head. He thrust it onto the nightstand, yet his irritation did not settle.
