20. CHAPTER 20
MOON
Vivienne had been carving my future into pieces for six minutes straight, reading straight from the latest Evermourne Gazette. The tea room smelled of bergamot and polished wood. Tall windows threw cold light across the long table.
“The flagged trail is still live,” she said. “Ashbourne capital, layered through intermediaries, buried deep in your family’s offshore holdings.”
“Allegedly,” I said.
Vivienne opened her mouth. I lifted one finger, cutting her off with the smallest wave. “Yes, yes. I know. My father has left approximately a trillion voicemails I still need to return. I fail to see why no one can simply let it go.”
“Publicly,” she corrected anyway, eyes sharp. “And publicly is all that matters.”
She flicked to the Gallery app, thumb scrolling mercilessly. “Six weeks ago you went to Briar House. For a boy.”
“God. Let’s not talk about it.” I waved her off. “And don’t call him a boy. He is far from a boy. He is a monster who has turned my entire life upside down.”
I tilted my head back, gaze tracing the painted angels on the ceiling. Judgmental bastards. I would do it again. Because somehow he’d become the only place I stopped performing.
Fuck, I miss him.
Vivienne rolled her eyes. “After the Carrick incident, Ashbourne looked ready to kill him. The Gazette called it ‘Aster Prince, Thorn Problem.’ The Gallery is eating it alive. Aster looks weak. Zara looks ridiculous. And you look like Thorn can drag our future Seat across campus whenever they feel bored.”
Sawyer leaned forward, grin sharpening. “So, you and Cillian are actually fucking? Don’t tell me that Irish dog is—”
I flicked a single-serve sugar packet at his forehead. “I am not discussing my personal life with either of you. Let it go. I haven’t seen him in weeks. It’s over.”
Vivienne didn’t even glance at him. “Aster purity is compromised. You look dirty, Moon. And in our world, looking dirty is the same as being dirty.”
I kept my face blank. Fingers relaxed on the teacup. Heat surged through my chest anyway.
Vivienne leaned forward. “The Patronage Seat cannot survive these optics. Not now. Not when your name is publicly linked to Ashbourne.”
“The entry was planted.”
“Hyun, nobody cares what happened. They care what it looked like. And Sawyer has already withdrawn from the Patronage Seat,” Vivienne added.
“What?” My gaze snapped to him. “Why? You stand a much better chance than I do right now.”
“I made a professional decision to stop making my life worse for a few weeks,” Sawyer said. “Thought I’d try something new.”
I met his eyes, unblinking. “That’s remarkably unconvincing,” I said. “What are you actually doing?”
“I am not discussing my personal life with you, hyung.” He stuck his tongue out, playful and utterly untrustworthy.
Fuck. Sawyer never retreated. He just disappeared long enough to come back with a worse idea.
“Focus, boys.” Vivienne clapped her hands once, sharp as a gavel. “Fix it. Or the Seat slips away and you’ll watch someone far less compromised take what should have been yours.”
Vivienne’s phone lit up. She read the message, expression unchanged.
“Eloise says Ashbourne tried to give her a note for you.”
Sawyer perked up. “A note? Christ, that’s deliciously pathetic. I’m living for this.”
“She refused it.”
I wanted that note more than oxygen.
Vivienne studied me. “Ignore him. Completely. Or do us all a favor and stop pretending you’re still fit for the Seat.”
“I intended to.”
Sawyer grinned. “Sure you are.”
Voices rose outside the tea room.
“Sir, you can’t be here.”
“Stop.”
“This is Aster property.”
I forced my hand still.
The door slammed open.
Cillian filled the doorway. Eyes locked on me. The rest of the room didn’t exist.
Sawyer froze. “Oh, what the fuck.”
Vivienne stood instantly. “Mr. Ashbourne. Leave our Court at once.”
I stood too fast. Chair scraping. Porcelain rattling.
“Cillian?”
He crossed the space in three strides. Vivienne tried to block him. Pointless. His hands clamped around my face, rough, thumbs pressing into my jaw. His mouth crashed into mine hard. For one treacherous heartbeat my lips parted, tongue meeting his before shame slammed into me.
I shoved him hard in the chest. “What the fuck, Cillian?”
He let me push him away, but only far enough to drag his thumb across my bottom lip, eyes black with satisfaction. His words carried across the room.
“You’re fucking mine, Moonshine. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”
Moonshine.
He pulled back, turned toward the silent crowd with that ruined, arrogant smile, and spread his hands like a man confessing in church. “I tried,” he announced, loud and unashamed. Then he pointed straight at me. “I fucking tried. But he’s irresistible.”
Silence slammed down. Every eye shifted to me at once. Cillian’s grin sharpened as he started walking backward through the crowd, eyes still locked on mine the entire time.
“Worth it,” he called out. “Every single fucking time, prince.”
He turned and pushed through the doors, still smiling like he’d just won the war. I had no idea how to fix this.
The door shut behind Cillian, but the damage stayed. Then the whispers started creeping through the Aster tea room.
“Moon?”
“Was that real?”
“Did Ashbourne just—”
“So the Gazette is true?”
“So Thorn has him.”
“The Seat is finished.”
One voice: “I fucking knew it.”
Sawyer’s chair scraped back violently. The amusement was gone. “Who the fuck said that?”
Vivienne rose. “Out. All of you. Now.”
No one argued. They filed out fast, phones already in hands. I caught at least two people filming before Sawyer snatched a phone from someone’s grip.
“Delete it,” he snarled. “Anyone who posts that before we control the narrative dies politically by dinner. Understood?”
The door closed. I took one step toward the door, pure reflex.
Vivienne’s hand clamped down on my arm. “No, Hyun.”
“Vivienne.”
“Do not follow him. Not in front of them. Not while they’re still feeding the Gallery.”
I wanted to rip free, chase him, kiss him again. Instead, I stayed rooted. Perfectly trained heir.
Vivienne yanked me toward the sofa. “Sit down.”
“Vivi—”
“No, stop looking like you’re about to run after the man who just detonated your future in public.”
I sat.
Sawyer exhaled hard. “The Patronage Seat just became a blood sport.”
And I was bleeding in the arena.
“It already was,” I said quietly.
“Before, you could at least call everyone delusional. Bit harder now, isn’t it?”
Vivienne dropped into the seat across from me, crossed her long legs, and pulled out her phone. I rarely saw her frustration. Usually, it was Sawyer who needed her crisis PR skills.
“The Patronage Seat is gone, isn’t it?”
Vivienne didn’t soften the blow. “Not gone, Hyun. But I’m not going to lie, this just became exponentially harder.”
Sawyer smiled. “Nah. You’ve gotten me out of worse. I believe in you.”
“You already withdrew.”
“Only on paper,” he said. “Nobody outside the Patronage Office knows yet. If you blow up now, they’ll say I withdrew to clear the path for you.”
Vivienne glanced down at her phone. “And once people think the race was manipulated, they’ll reopen the Seat for a new vote.”
I dragged a hand through my hair.
Sawyer leaned forward. “I can ask Professor Korolev.”
I stopped. “For what? Moral absolution?”
Sawyer shrugged. For one dangerous second, I actually considered it.
“No.” I shook my head.
Sawyer’s grin returned. “That wasn’t an immediate no.”
“It has become one.”
My phone rang. Father. I answered.
“Tell me the photographs are false.”
Silence stretched.
“Hyun-seo… Why are there photographs of you and Cillian Ashbourne inside Aster Court? First his capital contaminates our holdings. Now the man himself contaminates you publicly, in our territory. Do you have any idea the damage you have done?”
I couldn’t force a sound out.
“I do not care who you associate with privately,” he continued, growing louder. “But I will not tolerate this kind of public spectacle.”
His tone sharpened.
“Deny the intimacy. Frame him as a trespasser. File the complaint as assault if necessary. Distance yourself from him publicly. Immediately. Do not be seen with him. Do not speak to him. Am I clear?”
My jaw tightened.
“I will not call it assault.”
“Then call it an inexcusable error in judgment,” he said coldly. “Clean this up, son. Or I will clean it for you. And you will not like my methods.”
“I have Vivienne,” I said quietly.
Vivienne leaned in. “Hello, Nathaniel. I hope you’re holding up well, all things considered.”
“I apologize. My son has clearly misplaced his judgment.”
I rolled my eyes and turned away. “I… I think I—”
He cut me off. “I never expected you to fall for these pathetic academy games. I have handled the stakeholders for now, assuring them this is nothing more than childish nonsense, but do not test me further, Hyun-seo.”
“Yes, Father. It’s just school games.” My throat felt tight. “Is it really that bad if Cillian is seen with me?”
He scoffed. The line went dead silent. My pulse hammered. Sawyer waved frantically, shoving his phone in my face:
Hang up the fucking phone before you say something stupid.
“What are you trying to tell me, Hyun-seo? Hello? Are you still there?”
“Eh—yes. Nothing. Cillian is my rival. Thorn Court has been pushing their games lately, but we are handling it. Vivi is managing the optics.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear. Say hello to Zara from me. I met with her father the other day. You should associate with her more. She would be a lovely match for you. Protect her from men like Ashbourne. I will not have her dragged into these games. Understood?”
“Yes. I would never let anyone hurt her.”
“I expect this resolved within forty-eight hours.”
He hung up.
“Well,” I said. “Fuck me.”
I stood. “I need to see him.”
Vivienne stepped in front of the door, arms crossed. “Absolutely not. You cannot reward him for publicly blowing up your life,” she snapped.
“I’m not rewarding him.”
Sawyer tilted his head. “Then what exactly are you doing?”
“Finding out why.”
Lie.
Vivienne saw straight through it. “No. You want to know if he meant it.”
I said nothing. Father’s voice still scraped my skull. Distance yourself. Immediately. My fingers itched to throw the phone through the nearest stained-glass window.
I picked up my coat, anyway.
Vivienne grabbed my arm. “Hyun.”
I shook free from her grip and looked back at her.
“He matters to me, Vivi.”
Her eyes flashed. For half a second she looked ready to physically drag me back. Then she stepped aside.
“Fine. Go see him. But make one thing clear: if he wants a place in your life, he stops making your life harder.”
I walked out.
Vivienne wasn’t wrong. Every rational part of me knew it. But I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t want him anymore. I thought he’d moved on. Fucking liar. Both of us. Until he stormed into Aster Court and kissed me.
Fuck it.
I couldn’t stay away any longer. The Highland cold hit me. The wind cut across my face, carrying the scent of pine, stone, and distant snow.
He was gone. I scanned the courtyard and the long drive. Pale winter sun. Light snow on the gravel. No Cillian.
“He already took off.” Another Aster student passed me without stopping.
Then I heard it, the low, guttural roar of a motorcycle engine already fading into the distance. My body moved. One desperate step. Then another. I stopped. Where the hell would I even go? Thorn territory? Briar House?
No thanks.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind me. Sawyer appeared, out of breath, trying for that usual amused drawl and failing miserably.
“He’s already left,” I said.
His gaze dropped to my undone coat, then flicked away.
“Fuck… Hyung,” he muttered, dragging a trembling hand through his hair. “I don’t even know how to tell you this.”
I waited, silent.
Sawyer exhaled sharply. “I shouldn’t have put the Blood Writ on you. That was fucked. Even for me. I saw an opportunity and I—”
“You put the Writ on me?”
I closed the distance. Chest to chest. I pushed him. Sawyer stumbled back and landed on his ass.
He sat stunned, then pushed up slowly, brushing dirt off his coat with shaking hands.
“Hyung… I’m sorry,” he said quieter. “I really am.”
I pressed my lips flat.
“I know you’re sorry.”
I let him have that second. Then I stepped back. Expression hard. “That doesn’t mean I trust you.”
Sawyer put a Blood Writ on me. The same Sawyer who called me Hyung. The same Sawyer who stood between me and Cillian in the cathedral.
“Hyung—”
“No.” I cut him off. “Not right now. You put a Writ on me. You aimed a loaded gun at my life and pulled the trigger because it felt interesting. So forgive me if I don’t fall at your feet just because you suddenly feel bad about it.”
Sawyer’s mouth opened. “After Seamus I swore I wouldn’t—”
I slammed my hand over his mouth. Hard.
“Shut the fuck up,” I hissed. “Are you stupid? Don’t say his name out loud.”
His eyes went wide against my palm. I held it there a second longer, heart slamming, before I dropped my hand. I stayed silent for a moment, the cold wind cutting across my face. My pulse was still hammering.
Fuck. He was still my best friend. The same chaotic psycho who would burn everything for me and sometimes light me on fire too. He did this shit at Harvard too.
I exhaled slowly.
“…It’s done,” I said quietly. “Writ or not, Cillian would have kissed me in that room, anyway. There was no avoiding that. Not in any version of this.”
Sawyer looked wrecked. “Still… I’m sorry.”
I didn’t answer. I stared down the empty drive where Cillian had disappeared, the roar of his motorcycle long gone.
Tomorrow was the Winter Ball. Cillian had just kissed me in front of Aster. Sawyer had admitted he put the Blood Writ on me. Did Cillian know? Secrets. Lies. Constant performance. This was only going to get so much worse.