A familiar voice spoke from behind him. “Well, if that is the welcome one receives, then things must be far more serious than I assumed.”
Tristan stepped into the study with the casual arrogance of a man who had never been denied a room in this mansion. His eyes swept over Cassian, a long, assessing stare that took in the half-buttoned shirt, the disheveled hair, and the slack grip on the glass of brandy.
“You look like death reheated,” Tristan observed dryly.
“You are not needed here,” Cassian said sharply. “You may return home.”
Tristan rolled his eyes in exaggerated fashion. “Of course. Because the moment you start drinking yourself into oblivion and isolating yourself like a wounded wolf, the sensible response is for your friend to politely leave you to it.”
Cassian glared. “I am perfectly capable of?—”
“Ruining yourself? Yes, I am aware,” Tristan interrupted, already shrugging out of his coat. He folded it neatly and placed it on the nearest cushion, as though settling in for the long haul. “Lady Kendrick sent word. Said you were… ‘in a state.’ I thought she was being dramatic. But Christ, Cassian, even for you, this is abysmal.”
Cassian lifted his glass and swallowed what remained. “You are wasting your breath.”
“Am I?” Tristan arched a brow. “Tell me, then. What is the matter? Because I know with absolute certainty you are not like this simply because you pummeled Lord Falchester into an unrecognizable heap.”
Cassian said nothing. Instead, he reached for the bottle, poured another glass, and drank.
Tristan sighed and sank into the seat opposite him. “You are truly determined to be insufferable.”
Silence.
Tristan tried again, this time with barbed humor. “If this is about guilt…”
No reaction.
“If it is about public embarrassment…”
Still nothing.
“If you are grieving the loss of your dignity, I assure you, you never had much to begin with.”
Cassian exhaled heavily, but not in amusement.
Tristan’s jaw tightened with irritation. “For heaven’s sake, Cassian, say something.”
At last, after draining half the glass, Cassian muttered, low and bitter, “She deserves better.”
Tristan slowed.
Cassian stared into the amber liquid, his expression hollow. “Isabella deserves someone who does not bring chaos wherever he goes.”
Tristan leaned forward slowly. “You think you are chaos?”
Cassian’s lips twisted humorlessly. “I know I am.”
“Cassian.”
His grip tightened on the glass. “Everything I touch, I ruin. Everything I protect, I endanger. She saw me lose control. Shesaw what I am capable of. And she…” His throat worked. “You did not see her face; she was terrified of me.”
Tristan’s voice softened. “You do not know that.”
“I do,” Cassian whispered. “And for her sake, she should stay away.”
Tristan opened his mouth but fell silent.
Cassian closed his eyes and took another drink.
