29. CHAPTER 29 #2
It didn’t.
They still chose me.
A chair shifted beside me. Cillian had gone very still. He was looking only at me, green eyes soft in a way that made my chest ache.
“You did it, prince,” he said quietly.
“Did I though?”
Cillian’s gaze dropped to my tray. Just coffee. Nothing else. His jaw tightened for a fraction of a second. He knew I’d been eating, or at least he’d hoped I had. The runners he’d sent to my room three times a day hadn’t gone unnoticed. But clearly that wasn’t enough for him.
“You need to eat, I’ll grab you food,” he said.
I looked up at him. “I’m not a child. I can feed myself.”
“Sure, prince.” He stood. “I’m getting you a proper plate.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. Instead, I sank into the chair with a tired sigh. “Fine. Whatever.”
The table was loud around me. Aleksei and Mikhail were arguing in low Russian. Vivienne was calmly dismantling Sawyer’s latest chaotic idea. Sawyer grinned like a maniac, throwing fuel on the fire. Everyone was talking, laughing, existing like the world hadn’t tilted violently less than a week ago.
I could barely keep my eyes open from fatigue. My body still ached in places I didn’t want to name. My mind felt slow and foggy. I just wanted to drink my coffee and perish.
Cillian returned and set a full plate in front of me. Rice, grilled meat, banchan, exactly how I liked it. Then he dropped back into his seat. “Eat,” he said, low enough only I could hear.
I picked up my chopsticks without looking at him. He brought me fucking chopsticks.
A little while later, as the conversation continued around us, Sawyer leaned forward, his usual playful mask slipping into something more serious.
“Hey, Hyun,” Sawyer said, eyes locking onto mine. “Can we talk? Privately.”
Sawyer grabbed my sleeve and hauled me down the hall, away from the cafeteria noise. The second we were out of sight he stopped, hands jammed deep in his pockets as if he was trying not to fidget.
“Carrick’s backed off,” he said quickly. “I can’t promise forever, but if he tries shit again, I’ll bite his fucking ears off.”
I watched him. He sounded too rehearsed.
“I heard something during the Winter Ball,” he continued. “Just pieces. Declan and Ronan planning something involving you and Cillian. I didn’t know about the cottage. I didn’t know they’d actually come for you like that.”
My stomach tightened. “Sawyer…”
“I panicked,” he cut in. “I only managed to intercept Declan.”
I dragged my hand down my face. “What did you do?”
Sawyer rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely guilty for once.
“I tied him up in the astronomy building basement. Storage room. Star charts and shit everywhere. He’s fine, I’ve been feeding him, giving him water, even left the asshole a crossword and a flashlight.
I’m not a complete monster.” His grin twitched.
“Though… he is tied up, so the crossword might be tricky.”
I closed my eyes. “Let him go, Sawyer.”
“Right after breakfast,” he said cheerfully. “Promise. I’ll untie him myself. He’s probably bored out of his mind by now.”
“You’re a psychotic idiot.”
“I was trying to help.”
“Alone?”
Sawyer hesitated.
“Sawyer.”
“Kaelan saw me,” he admitted, wincing. “The feral little Swiss shit lit up like Christmas and went ‘Fuck it, I’m in—best thing all term.’ Grabbed Declan’s legs and helped me drag the unconscious prick down there.
Apparently nobody uses that basement except first-years chasing ghosts and third-years trying to get laid at fake séance parties. ”
I rubbed a thumb along my jaw. “So Vesper helped you kidnap Declan.”
“Vesper deserves some credit.”
“Oh god.”
“I was trying to help.”
“Those two things are not mutually exclusive.”
Sawyer let out a shaky breath, looking more exhausted than I’d seen him in months. “I thought… if I could just protect you, you’d forgive me for the Blood Writ. But I couldn’t stop Ronan.”
Sawyer was the youngest of us by three years. The urge to shield him never quite went away.
“I’m just glad the Blood Writ was the only thing you put on me,” I said.
Sawyer stilled.
“That was the only thing, right?”
He put both hands up fast. “Yes. Swear. I will never come at you like that again. Weak moment. I overreacted.”
“You’ve overreacted before.”
“I know.” He looked away. “I’m sorry, Hyun. I really am.” Then the grin sharpened, turning wicked. “Although… technically my Blood Writ made Thorn lose a shit-ton of Favor. Interesting, right?”
He laughed.
I shifted my weight away from him. “You’re actually proud of that?”
Sawyer shrugged. “A little. Didn’t plan for it to go that far. But if I accidentally helped tank their reputation? Positive side effects.”
I stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, refusing to overthink it. Sawyer froze, then clung back too hard, arms locked around me.
“You’re a menace, Whitlock,” I muttered against his shoulder.
“I’m working on myself. Actively,” Sawyer said, voice muffled against my shoulder.
I eased back enough to see his face.
“And who do I thank for this sudden moral development?”
Sawyer hesitated, then looked away.
“Sawyer?”
“The professor.”
“You didn’t go full Whitlock on him, did you?”
“He wouldn’t give me an A.”
“So you went full Whitlock on him.”
“He dropped me from the class.”
I caught the shame in the tight line of his jaw, the way his eyes wouldn’t meet mine.
“Sawyer.”
He looked away. That was worse. Sawyer loved an audience. He only avoided eyes when it actually hurt.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, quieter.
“Nothing.”
“Something’s wrong.”
He exhaled shakily, then flashed a weak version of his usual grin. “What, you want the full tragic monologue? Sorry, I’m still workshopping the material.”
I held his gaze. “Stop joking. Leave the professor alone. And no more Blood Writs. Not on me. Not on anyone I care about. This stops here.”
Sawyer’s arms tightened one last time before he finally let go.
“I know. You’re right.” He flashed a weak, self-mocking smile. “I'm sorry, Hyun. I really did fuck this one up.”
“You’ll always be my best friend,” I mumbled. “Just… try to stop solving problems with felonies.”
“Fewer felonies,” he offered weakly.
“No felonies.”
“Let’s be realistic.”
I shoved him lightly as we started walking back toward the table.
Sawyer kept one arm slung stubbornly around my shoulders anyway.
“You can release me now,” I muttered.
“No.”
Cillian’s eyes locked onto Sawyer’s arm. Jaw flexed once. Fingers tightened around his glass. Sawyer saw it too. And because he was Sawyer, he couldn’t resist.
“Don’t growl, Ashbourne,” he called happily. “I had him first.”
Cillian shifted his weight forward. “You want to keep that arm?”
“Both of you shut up,” I snapped.
Vivienne didn’t even look up from her phone. “Progress. They’re bonding.”
Aleksei leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow raised. “This is what bonding looks like?”
Mikhail snorted into his drink.
I slid back into my seat beside Vivienne. Picked up my chopsticks. Forced down a bite. Sawyer dropped into the chair on my other side.
One table. Three Aster heirs and three Thorn heirs. And the most interesting part? Kaelan had helped Sawyer drag Declan down to that basement.
Interesting.
Fuck. That reminded me. “Sawyer, don’t sit down. Go untie Declan.” I caught the back of his shirt and yanked him up. He almost face-planted.
“Okay, okay, fuck—you’re bossy today,” he laughed, backing away.
They all stared. I kept eating, chopsticks steady, ignoring every last one of them.
For the first time in days, the urge to run didn’t claw at my ribs. I stayed. And I’d won the Patronage Seat. Fuck hiding. Let them look. Let them remember exactly whose son I was.