So much for making it up to me.
When the burning in my eyes threatens to spill out over my cheeks, I offer Health Elio a wobbly smile. “I’m feeling very tired, Healer.”
“Of course. I’ll let you get some rest.” Flipping the chart closed, he leaves me in peace to wrestle with the stupid feelings tearing at my chest.
God, I wish Jessalyn was here. My mama. Dad. Elise.
People who actually care about me.
My stomach surges again, and I rest my hand over it. I’m trying not to panic at Health Elio’s words, but if they’re true… then there’s a lot more at stake than being Denied.
Like my actual life.
36
TRISTAN
“Is Councilor Erikkson here?”
The beta housemaid glances behind her uncertainly. “He’s not, I’m afraid.”
Smiling easily, I jump up the steps, brushing past her. “No problem. I’m happy to wait.”
She’s clearly flustered, glancing between me and the door. “Oh, well, I’m not sure that the Councilor would—”
“Nonsense,” I interrupt. “The Councilor is a good friend. He won’t mind me waiting.”
My mouth nearly chokes on the words. Some fucking friend.
The housemaid clearly doesn’t know what to do. I hide my smirk and nod to the padded bench in the entryway. “I’ll wait right here. Promise not to move.”
When I smile at her again, she finally capitulates. “I’m sure he won’t be long.”
Nodding, I set myself down. “As I said, I’m happy to wait.”
When she lingers, glancing desperately down the hallway, I lean forward.
“I don’t mind,” I whisper conspiratorially, “if you need to get on with work, I mean.”
She swallows. “It’s just – the Councilor is very precise.”
Winking, I wave her off. “Go on. I know how he can be.”
Don’t I just.
The maid wanders off, glancing behind her every so often. I lean my head back against the wall, stretching my legs out in front of me.
It was worth waiting two hours outside until the butler left. I doubt I would have had quite the same welcome. The itch to go to Sienna, to make sure she’s safe, is clawing at me.
But if I want her to be safe, then I’m exactly where I need to be. My pack will contact me if there’s anything.
When the sound of vacuuming echoes faintly, I stand up and move to the office door next to me.
If it’s locked, this is over before it’s begun.
But it opens easily under my hand, and I slip in, pushing it shut behind me and flicking the lock.
Heading to the large desk, I start searching, carefully pulling out drawers and working my way through pointless pieces of paper, invoices, email print outs – none of it what I’m looking for.
