Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
By the end of the week training with Sawyer, I was utterly defeated. My muscles felt like they were being twisted any time I made a sudden movement. Sebastian and I trained hard, but Sawyer trained on a whole other level—one that left me beaten and exhausted.
Sawyer and I bonded better than I ever thought we could after our initial introduction, making our week together not as painful as I anticipated.
Although our wielding sessions had been almost unbearable, there was only one incident where my vision tunneled.
I thought for sure I was going down, but somehow managed to hold it together. Thank gods.
The days had blended into one. Train, eat, class, wield, sleep, repeat—my schedule was exhausting. Luckily, my meeting with King Hawthorne had been canceled this week as he had accompanied Sebastian and Duke Sinclair to Craterra.
My feet dangled over the edge of my bed, my thighs burning with the movement. I peered at the clock—Sawyer was late. That was odd. He hadn't been a second late all week.
I did not question his absence. Instead, I changed out of my winter training uniform and released my hair from its braid, shaking the waves free.
I laced my boots over my ankles, then went down the hall to Pia’s room to see if she wanted to get breakfast. I knocked, but she didn't answer, meaning she probably had spent the night with Kohen.
It seemed as though I had the morning to myself, so I embraced the lack of a bodyguard and made my way to the castle.
It felt strange to have no one walking with me as I strolled the corridors of the dormitories and down the winding set of stairs. Sebastian would be pissed if he knew I was escorting myself to the castle without a guard. The thought made me chuckle.
Sawyer and I never further discussed what he let slip about Sebastian, which was for the best. I’d been trying not to think about it, not wanting to get my hopes up.
If my calculations were correct, Sebastian should be arriving back to Caelestis tonight.
I was optimistic that I’d hear from him when he returned, but didn't get my hopes up over that, either.
A gust of frosted air smacked me in the face when I stepped outside. I shivered fiercely, frost crunching under my feet as I crossed the lawn. There was no denying that winter was among us.
I hiked through the barriers of icy air that left my cheeks raw by the time I reached the kitchen.
The drastic change in temperature caused my skin to sting, so I grabbed a cup of tea and settled on a warm breakfast pastry, then secured myself an empty table that just happened to be near the secret soldiers' housing entrance.
“What are you doing here?”
I looked up from my breakfast to see Sawyer standing over me, baffled.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I replied through my mouthful of food.
Sawyer sat himself across from me, one eyebrow raised. “What are you talking about?”
“I waited for you for over an hour. When you didn't show, I took advantage of it and came here to get breakfast.”
“Sebastian didn't show up?”
“He's back?” My heart calmed in knowing that he made it home safely.
Sawyer’s face transformed from confused to concerned. “Shit,” he muttered, setting his elbows on the table top. He rubbed his hands over his face and released a groan.
“What's wrong?”
Sawyer glanced around to make sure no one could hear us. “Sebastian doesn't always handle this stuff well.”
“What stuff?”
He leaned in closer and whispered, “Performing an execution.”
I almost spit my food out. “What?” I said much louder than I intended.
Sawyer shushed me. “Quiet, Willawood, you're drawing attention to us.”
Peering eyes surrounded us. Screw them.
“He told me he had to oversee the execution, not that he would be the one performing it,” I whisper-yelled back.
Sawyer didn't say anything more. He just sat twiddling his thumbs.
“Well, do you care to elaborate a bit, Sawyer, or do you plan on leaving me hanging here?”
“It’s not my information to give.”
“I don’t give a shit. Spill it. Now,” I demanded.
He leaned back against his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seb’s father has been making him do this kind of thing ever since he was a kid.”
“What kind of thing?” I leaned across the table to make sure I was understanding him correctly. “Killing people?”
Sawyer nodded.
My hand found my mouth, blocking out my gasp.
“King Hawthorne forced his child to murder people?” I understood that killing was unfortunately one of the responsibilities that came with the title of being a soldier, but as a kid?
“He's pretty numb to it now, but sometimes even now when Seb has to kill in the line of duty, the trauma of doing it as a kid rehashes.
He just…shuts down. Sometimes it takes days for him to come out of it.
Battle is one thing, that's life or death. But the executions are always brutal to watch, never mind performing one.”
Anger boiled up inside of me, and I clenched my fists under the table. “Who makes their child kill people? That's fucking horrific to say the very least.” King Hawthorne just kept giving me more and more reasons to despise him.
“He's done worse,” Sawyer replied nonchalantly.
My appetite vanished. “What do you mean?”
Sawyer shook his head. “Now that is really not my information to share.”
A grimace found my face, but I respected the boundary. “So what do we do?”
“About Seb?” Sawyer shrugged. “Nothing we can do. Kohen and I have tried to snap him out of it in the past, but it's nearly impossible to get through to him when he's like this. Just have to wait it out.”
I didn't like that answer. No wonder Sebastian could be so temperamental. I would be, too, if I was consistently traumatized while growing up. Between watching his mother be killed, and then being forced to do it to others—the whole thing made me feel nauseous.
I’ve done things that would make you sick, he had said, and I guess he was right. But none of those things were his fault. He didn't choose his father.
I scrapped the rest of my meal and rose from the table, my one-track mind marching me through the archway that would take me where I needed to go.
Sawyer jumped up in front of me. “Where do you think you are going?”
“I'm not just going to let him wallow in misery for days,” I said, pushing past him.
Sawyer moved in front of the entryway, blocking me from going through it. “Bad idea, Willawood,” he cautioned.
I ignored his warning and squeezed by him, entering into the dimmed hallway and only stopping when I stood in front of Sebastian's door. Sucking in a deep breath, I prepared myself for whatever reaction I might receive when he opened the door.
The corridor was so silent this morning that I was actually able to make out Sebastian's disgruntled response when I knocked.
“Go away, Kohen,” he grunted.
I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that Kohen has already tried to talk to him.
I knocked again, even harder.
No response.
Unsure if it would even work, I contemplated using my magic on him through the door to make him open it, but he without a doubt had his shields up right now. I didn't want to aggravate him more, but I risked doing so by knocking one more time.
“For fuck’s sake, Kohen. I told you to leave me alone.” The door swung open, and Sebastian's jaw snapped shut when he saw me.
I had almost forgotten how breathtaking he was. Even now, his face twisted into an expression of distress.
His hand tightly grasped the door frame. His dark hair was a mess of curls and his eyes that normally gleamed were full of dismay. He wore gray lounge pants—that was it.
I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I’d missed him the whole time he was gone.
“Sorry. I—”
“Can I come in?” I interrupted his apology.
He bobbed his head and the muscles of his back flexed as he turned and walked back into his room. I followed him in and closed the door behind us. The curtains were drawn, the only light emitted being from a single-bulb lamp on his desk. His bed was disheveled, a few open books lying on the sheets.
“I didn't know you were back,” I stated.
Sebastian pulled his desk chair out, sitting down and avoiding eye contact with me by burying his face in his hands. “I got back late last night,” he said, his voice muffled by his palms.
“I saw Sawyer at breakfast.”
Sebastian groaned. “Great. I'm sure he had a lot to say.”
“He did.”
His hands found his hair, ruffling its waves. “What do you want, Maeve?”
I took a few steps towards him. “Are you okay?” I pried, worry coating my tongue.
He didn't look at me. Nor did he make a sound.
Gently, my palm cupped his shoulder. “Listen. I know that you have things you don't talk about with anyone, but—”
His head whipped around, making me jump as my arm fell back to my side. “You don't know anything about me,” he snarled with a tic of his jaw.
I didn't let his tone faze me. I stayed calm as we locked eyes.
“I know you better than you think,” I retaliated. “And I know this feeling all too well. I might not understand exactly how you're feeling, but after what Sawyer said…I’m worried about you and—”
“Please,” he scoffed, turning his head back to his desk. “If this is why you came here, then please. Just. Get. Out.” He punctuated each word to show how much he meant them.
A fire fueled by frustration lit inside of me. I wasn't taking this from him right now.
“No,” I said sternly. “You're not doing this to me again. You don't get to just shut down, and I won't let you shut me out.”
My arms crossed as I stood still, observing him. His head was back in his hands and I swore that I saw his body shudder.
“Seb, please just talk to me.” My voice softened with each syllable that I spoke. It was bizarre to me how natural the urge to comfort him came.
“Why are you even here?”
“I told you why.”
“And I told you to leave.”
“Yeah. And I told you, no.”