85. Lily
LILY
“Do you mind if we stop by the Alumnae House? I want to check on Adriana.”
Lily glanced at Seb, his profile lit a blinking, sulfurous orange by passing streetlights.
Neither of them had spoken on the drive home.
Lily ached to ask him what the hell he’d been doing with her grandfather.
He looked wrung out and exhausted, his skin sheeted over with sweat, and he smelled of petrichor. His jaw had locked and stayed that way.
“That’s fine,” Lily said to the passenger window.
She sank back into wondering. Wondering about the Mérida twins—their sudden appearance and closeness with Seb—about her grandparents, about whether or not the Tribunal would come bursting through her front door at three a.m. to drag her out of bed for using illegal magic.
The gala had devolved quickly after Adriana’s reaction.
Once she’d been stabilized, she and Rafael, along with the small handful of Vadoria attendees, had left, shepherded out by their coach.
Seb pulled his car into the drive of the Alumnae House, a 1900s Tudor mansion that now served as a guesthouse for Windermere visitors.
For the tournament, the Alumnae House—being the closest and best accommodations to campus—was reserved for the twenty top-seeded traveling competitors and their chaperones.
Lily had never been inside, but Seb, based on the greeting he received from the concierge, was familiar. She trailed after him as he beelined for the small pub, where he clapped a terrifically tanned young man, who’d clearly come from the gala, on the shoulder while he leaned over and ordered.
“Do you want anything?” Seb said, turning with his bourbon, surprising her slightly that he remembered she was there.
Her shoulders twitched in response. He ordered her a hot toddy and kept talking to the man at the bar.
This was Seb in his element, known by all, knowing all.
There was no room for her in the equation.
This is who he is, Lily reminded herself.
You are the anomaly. This was how things would be when she was gone.
For all his protestations, all it took was one good distraction, and Lily became ancillary. She was temporary.
“Here you go.” Seb handed over her drink in a steam-opaqued glass mug, and Lily took a hesitant sip.
Lemony and sharp, with sweetness at the back. It burned a little going down but settled warmly in her stomach; exactly what she hadn’t known she wanted. The fact that Seb had known added to her discontent and low-simmering anger.
“Catch you later, Sullivan.”
He put his hand between Lily’s wool-clad shoulders and steered her out of the pub.
“Good of you to introduce me,” she murmured acidly once they were alone in an upper hallway.
Seb looked at her, taken aback, the hurt already blooming in his hazel eyes.
“Sullivan?” He frowned at her in confusion.
“Sullivan is a fucking bigot and every other word out of his mouth is an atrocity. I thought I’d spare you.
” She watched the hurt turn to something stonier in response to her own face.
“But if you want to end your night with sexual harassment, be my guest. It would be my honor to introduce you.”
“I…no.” She was properly shamed.
“Lily, come on. What’s wrong?” He reached for her free hand.
She scoffed. “What’s wrong? What isn’t wrong?”
He slumped back against the wall, his drink sloshing, hair wild. Lily caught another whiff of soil off him.
“I shouldn’t have made you go. It was selfish.”
She slumped against the opposite wall, unwilling to absolve him, but her anger ebbed away. She took another sip of hot toddy. They stared at each other, separated by three feet of hallway, antique carpet, and their own intransigence. They were both right. They were both wrong.
“I liked dancing with you,” she said quietly, staring at the faded pattern of twining roses between her feet. “I liked getting dressed up with you.”
A hint of a smile traced Seb’s lips. “I liked that too.”
With a sigh, she peeled herself up and settled next to him, their sides pressed together. She dropped her head to his shoulder. He exhaled and finished his bourbon, setting the glass on the floor, against the wall. Lily copied him.
“Let’s just go home.” He sighed. “This tournament hasn’t even started, and I’m already sick of it.”
“Let’s check on your friend first.”
She hung behind as Seb knocked on the door to the twins’ room.
Past his shoulder, she saw Adriana, swathed in a voluminous bathrobe, huddled in the corner of a chintz couch.
She was still pale, cupping a mug of tea in her long fingers.
Rafael, clad in expensive jeans and a Vadoria sweatshirt, rose from his bed, placing his book on the duvet.
He and Seb embraced in another long hug, speaking quickly in Spanish. At something Seb said, Rafael glanced at Lily, and she felt a prickle of anxiety between her shoulder blades. He released Seb and made for her.
“You saved my sister’s life,” he said, gazing intently at her before pulling Lily into a crushing embrace. “We owe you a great debt.”
Lily had nothing to say to that.
“What happened?” Seb asked Adriana as he settled close to her on the couch. “Didn’t you tell them about your allergy? Did they tell you there were nuts in the dessert?” His brow knitted with concern, with the sense of an injustice that needed righting.
Adriana replied in quiet Spanish. Whatever she said clearly shocked and infuriated Seb, and he shot back in his own low, urgent tones. Lily fidgeted with the seam of her coat sleeve.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lily; I’ve heard many things about you,” Rafael said, both rescuing her and steering her away from whatever was happening on the couch.
Lily grimaced nervously. “Only decent things, I hope.”
“Only the best of things.”
“That seems like an exaggeration.”
Rafael shrugged, his brown eyes gleaming. “I’m greatly looking forward to this week.”
“And why’s that?”
“Two reasons: I look forward to getting to know you, and I look forward to stripping Sebastian of his title.”
Seb appeared at Rafael’s shoulder, quickly pulling his usual mask over flashing anger. “We’ll just have to see about that. Come on, Lily, let’s go.”