Chapter 20
Sander
present day
I should be glad to see Hex. He’s alive and whole and back where he belongs, and I know I should be happy about that. But mostly I feel guilty. Guilty and frustrated and relieved all at the same time, which is making my stomach churn and my mind spin.
My eyes slip down to the newspaper he’s still holding pressed to my chest, where the story about Hex’s romantic relationship with Astrid glares up at me.
“Start talking,” Hex demands. “What did you do?”
“Exactly what I said I would,” I bite back, catching every bit of shock in Hex’s expression.
Which only makes me feel more guilty, since a romance with Astrid was never part of the plan.
Not even for Astrid, whose goal was to use Hex to catch the nobility’s interest. But it was never supposed to turn into this.
I tried to fix it last night, but clearly I failed.
To my relief, a couple of female guards come into the range, giving me an excuse to leave. “I need a shower.”
Hex won’t make a spectacle of the moment now that we have an audience, so he doesn’t stop me from heading for the door.
But he stays hot on my heels, which means I take the route with the most traffic, going the long way around to the family wing of the palace instead of taking one of the secret passages like I normally would.
I can practically feel Hex’s growing frustration—he knows exactly what I’m doing—but I need a moment to think. To breathe. To figure out how to fix things before my brother decides I’ve betrayed him.
When we reach our shared sitting room, I toss Hex’s phone onto the sofa and head straight for my room, shutting the door behind me. I have as long as it takes to shower to organize my thoughts, and then I’ll have to face my brother.
The shower does nothing to loosen my tense muscles, nor do my thoughts settle into anything helpful, but I know better than to delay this conversation any longer. So once I’ve changed, I slowly make my way back to the sitting room where Hex is pacing with stiff movements.
That’s what I want to do, but he’s got it covered. Not that he’s doing it well. He’s babying one side of his body, and since Hex isn’t the type to show pain, it must be bad. I get the feeling he won’t tell me if I ask about it.
He stops when he sees me. “Want to explain why the entire country thinks I’m carrying a torch for Astrid Storme?”
No, I don’t want to explain. Settling on the sofa next to his phone, I drop my head back and close my eyes.
Maybe if I concentrate, I can get my body to relax.
I rarely drink alcohol, and this is a good reminder of why.
Everything falls apart. It felt like a good idea at the time, with Blackmere only sipping his drink when I did, but there was a small part of me that desperately wanted to forget the way Astrid looked at me in that closet.
Like she would have welcomed a kiss if I’d been bold enough.
Stupid enough.
Getting drunk did nothing to erase my memories, so now I’m as irritated as I am regretful.
“San, talk to me. What’s going on?”
I don’t bother opening my eyes. “What’s going on is members of the nobility are both anticipating and causing trouble, and Agent Storme and I have been slowly working our way deeper into a conspiracy against Freya so we can try to stop it.”
“I knew that already. What I don’t know is why you’ve turned it into some sort of romance when you know I—”
“Hate her. Yeah, I’m aware.” Even knowing the reason for it now, I have no idea how Hex can hate Astrid. She’s brilliant and determined and sweet, and she doesn’t let anyone push her around. I fell for her the moment I saw her, and my opinion has only improved over the years.
“I don’t… I don’t hate her.”
I open my eyes. Hex is in an armchair now, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes distant.
He looks confused and frustrated as he stares at nothing in particular, and I don’t blame him.
But he’s also clearly exhausted, and worried, and that lost look he had before he left last week only seems to have gotten worse.
I knew doing that show wasn’t going to help him.
Taking a weary breath, I search his face for the answers I’ll only get if he speaks them. “Hex, what happened on the island?”
Blinking, he shifts his gaze to me and smiles. Fake. “Doesn’t matter. I didn’t get the prize.” Even if his smile isn’t real, his words feel true. Like he doesn’t care that he didn’t win the competition. But something definitely happened that left Hex rattled.
“You and Astrid…” He swallows, resting his elbows on his knees. “Is the relationship a way to keep your cover? Get her into parties?”
“Yes.” I figure a simple answer is the easiest. “I tried to cut it off before it got too far, but there was only so much I could do.” I didn’t try very hard.
Not until last night, anyway, though moaning about Astrid deserving better was only going to get me so far with only Blackmere as my audience.
And Fennor, I suppose, whenever he showed up.
All I have are vague memories of him helping me up to my room like he did with Northam.
“And she’s okay with it?” Hex asks. “Storme is no fonder of me than I am of her, so either she’s good at pretending, or—” He cuts off, his expression turning almost blank as he connects the dots. “You changed her mind about me. The question is why? How?”
I sigh. A few days ago, I would have been thrilled to have Hex back to take over the job he agreed to do, but now everything is a mess and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about it all.
“She still thinks she’s working with you,” I say, running a hand through my damp hair. It’s not the question he asked, but he should know that anyway. “But sometimes I think she’s starting to suspect something is off.”
“She’s realizing who you really are?”
I shrug. Though I’d like to think I’ve done a good job at mimicking my brother, Astrid is too intelligent to be fooled for long.
“I told you this was a bad idea, San.”
“You also told Astrid you would help her, and then you disappeared. For days.”
Hex groans. “I told you I was busy.”
I gape at him, bewildered by the disconnect from reality. “No, you told me you would check in every day, and then you went radio silent without any warning right as a storm hit the islands.”
“What? No. Hand me my phone,” he says, and I toss it to him with more force than necessary.
He’s quiet for several seconds as he stares at the screen, and then he swears, turning pale.
“You never got it…” He looks at me, back at the phone, then at me again.
“You didn’t get my message, and you must have thought… ” He swears again.
I sit up, my chest growing tight. “What message?”
“I texted you to tell you I was safe and wouldn’t be able to check in for a couple days, and it never sent. San, I’m sorry! I should have made sure it went through, but with everything…”
I never truly thought he’d leave me in the dark, but hearing him say that he tried to contact me is exactly what I need to be able to breathe again.
Tears of relief blur my vision, but at the same time Hex seems to lose whatever pretense he was holding up between us, and my relief quickly makes way for worry. He’s not just exhausted.
He’s crumbling. My ever-strong brother is falling apart, and I don’t know why.
“Hex?” The word comes out strained.
Someone knocks on the door, and I’m tempted to tell whoever it is to go away. There’s too much for my brother and me to talk about.
When the person knocks again, Hex glances at the door to his bedroom, like he’s contemplating how quickly he can disappear.
“Hex,” a soft voice says, “we need to talk.”
“Vitte,” we curse at the same time. Astrid.