Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
The brightness of the sky told me that I'd slept through breakfast. Lunch, too.
I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, ready to wash off the failure from my wielding session.
The water ran red as I washed away the blood mangled in my hair.
The injury hurt, but wasn't deep enough for me to need a healer.
My scalp burned, but I spent longer in the shower than I’d like to admit, trying to work through the array of emotions stuck in my head.
What was the point of having a power like mine if I couldn't even use it properly?
Is that why Blythe never gave her constellastone to anyone—because they couldn't use it, anyway?
The pondering of my existential crisis continued outside of the shower, following me to my desk where I sat and picked up a quill. My fingers twirled a strand of my hair as I wrote down my thoughts on the parchment Sebastian had given me.
I wrote about my successful wielding last night, and then about how I fainted right after. I wrote about the way Sebastian was looking at me like he wanted to kiss me, and how I wished he would have.
When I finished spilling my feelings, I tucked the paper away in my desk along with the others, then crawled back into my bed. I didn't have the energy, physically or mentally, to do anything else today. I pulled the blanket over my head, but as soon as I got comfortable, a soft knock hit my door.
“Who is it?”
Their response was muffled by the blanket covering my ears. I reluctantly pulled myself out of my bed and shuffled my feet to open the door, revealing Sebastian.
His eyes had shadows under them and his dark hair laid messy atop his head. I was pretty sure that he had stayed awake the whole time I was unconscious, and by the looks of him now, he didn't sleep much when he got back to his room.
“Can I come in?”
I nodded and spun around, returning to my bed. “I'm surprised you even knocked when you have a key,” I grunted, pulling the blankets back over my head.
The door slammed and his footsteps echoed in my room. I was mortified about pretty much everything that occurred last evening and wanted to pretend it never happened. Maybe if I was quiet enough, he’d get the hint and just leave.
My false hope was crushed as he tore the blanket off of me. “We need to talk. Get up,” he demanded, seeming annoyed.
“I'm tired,” I whined.
“I don't care. Get up.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. Childish, I know, but I was not in the mood to be bossed around today. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared blankly at the ceiling.
“Maeve, I'm serious. This is important. Get up.”
I rolled my eyes down towards him. “Whatever it is, you can tell me while I lay in my bed.”
He huffed a laugh of frustration, and shook his head. “Fine, stay there. I'll wait.” He threw himself down in my armchair, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.
Rolling to my side to look at him, I stated the obvious, “You seem stressed.”
“Good observation,” he grunted.
My nose scrunched at his tone. “What's up your ass?”
“You,” he shot back, and I started to feel bad for how I was acting. None of this was his fault—I shouldn't have taken it out on him, but he seemed to be lacking patience this morning, which irritated me.
I sat up. “I don't know why you're so annoyed with me right now.”
Sebastian glared up at me through his hands, then slid them down and away from his face. “I'm not annoyed, Maeve. I'm scared, and you're acting like it's a joke.”
“Why are you scared? You're not the one who could be shipped off to Draemor any day now.”
He stood up and stormed towards me, bracing his hands on the edge of my mattress and leaning into my face. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want anything bad to happen to you?”
I gulped. “I—”
“Because I don't.” His jaw twitched as he stared into my soul.
Did he really just say that? This seemingly unbothered man actually cared about me? “I'm scared, too. Actually, scared doesn't do justice to what I’m feeling,” I said with a pout.
His arms flexed as he pushed off the bed and took a step back, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black, leather pants. “I know you are, but you can't shut down. You need to help me help you.” His frustration seemed to ease with the release of his words.
“How?”
“My father wants us to train your wielding daily, but after what happened last night, that's clearly not going to work.”
I nodded in acknowledgement. “Not if you want me practicing more challenging commands.”
“It’s not that I want you to, but it's that you need to. You need to learn to use the full extent of your power, but it can’t be done as often as I’d like.
” He began pacing the room. “We’ll keep our combat sessions in the mornings, but we will only train your magic every few days.
That way you'll have time between sessions to recuperate. We'll be able to practice more effectively and prevent another episode like last night. You’ll get the experience you need without the negative side effects…hopefully.”
“How will we get away with that?” I asked. “King Hawthorne has eyes all over the castle. Don't you think that he’ll learn rather quickly that something is going on?” I'd noticed that we sometimes had peering eyes on us during our training sessions.
He paused to think, swaying a little where he stood. “We won't say anything, but if he asks, we’ll tell him that we're training in various locations to get you used to having distractions while you wield.”
“What will we actually be doing and where?” I questioned him.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. The archives are pretty empty at night, we can go there or to one of our rooms. It doesn't really matter where, it's just important that we are together in case someone sees us. If they do, we can pretend to be practicing.”
“So we just lie?” This was actually not a bad idea. It was a simple plan, but sometimes simpler was better.
“We lie,” he confirmed. “I'll tell my father that you haven't been feeling well. We can't push it too long or he will get suspicious, but it will buy you a few days to get your strength up before we start training again. Sounds good?”
“Yeah. Thank you.”
He turned towards the window, and I could see the tension falling off of him with the confirmation of our plan.
I finally removed myself from my bed to stand beside him. My fingers grazed over his hand that grasped the window sill, trying to reciprocate the comfort that he always gave me. Right now, he seemed to need it more.
“Why do you care so much about what happens to me?” I asked, my voice so faint I wouldn't have been surprised if he couldn't make out the words.
He intertwined his fingers with mine, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. “You know damn well why.”
My heart pounded against my ribs.
Is he implying what I think he is? What I hope he is?
I wanted to ask, but we were interrupted by another person banging on my door.
His hand slipped from mine, and we jumped apart just in time for Pia to waltz through my doorway.
She raised her eyebrows, sucking her lips in to fight back a smile as she glanced between the two of us. “What's up?” she chimed, not acknowledging how close we were to each other.
Sebastian shuffled to the side, putting even more distance between us. “I was just about to leave,” he stammered. “I was going to walk with Maeve to the castle, but she said she's not going for lunch this afternoon.”
Pia nodded slowly. “Ahh. Of course.” Her tone said that she didn't believe him.
Sebastian cleared his throat and turned to me. “I'll see you later,” he said with a nod, then strutted out the door, hands stuffed in his pockets.
Pia beamed at me when he was gone.
“Nothing happened.”
“Bullshit. The tension in the air here is thick.”
“Nothing happened,” I repeated.
“Mhm.”
“I'm serious.”
“It smells like sex.”
My nose scrunched as my head shook.
She frowned and stomped her foot, believing me at last. “Damn it. I'm really rooting for you two.”
Sebastian met me at my room to walk me to his father’s study for my biweekly meeting. Neither of us had much to say this afternoon, but the look he gave me when we arrived said enough. He went to grab the door handle, but King Hawthorne opened it from his end.
“Good afternoon, Miss Willawood.”
“Hello, Your Majesty.”
The king turned his attention to Sebastian. “I will be speaking to Maeve alone today, soldier.”
Anger flared inside of me. I ground my jaw, hating when he referred to Sebastian as anything other than his son. It just seemed so wrong to me.
The look Sebastian gave his father suggested that he wanted to argue, but knew better than to even try. “I guess I’ll just wait out here then,” he said, then sank against the wall and to the ground, where he reached into his bag for his current read.
The king held the door open for me and I entered his study, sitting in my usual seat. He sat down behind his desk, crossing his hands in front of him. “I heard you have not been feeling well the past few days?”
I cleared my throat. “No, sir, I have not.”
“I trust you are feeling better now considering you made it to our meeting?”
“I am.”
“Good. I believe it is long overdue that you and I have a discussion just the two of us.” He granted me an insincere grin.
“There are a few matters I have been meaning to discuss with you. First and foremost, I wanted to let you know that we have uncovered the name of the one who spoke of your gift to the Draemornians. Duke Sinclair has been working day and night to locate the traitor, and believes he is close to doing so. Once captured, he will be executed.”
I clenched my fists. I already knew this. Fucking Fletcher.
“In addition to this good news—”
I scoffed. Good news? Since when was killing someone considered good news? Don't get me wrong, Edward Fletcher deserved some sort of punishment, but death seemed a bit harsh.
I coughed to try and cover my ass.