No!
Leave me be.
“Isla.” Sebastian’s voice is low.
I pause, but I don’t turn; my back goes stiff.
“We need to talk,” he says. “Please…just hear me out.”
“There is nothing to talk about,” I tell him. “We said all there was to say, and you made your decision.”
“It was the wrong one. Please.” The word comes out rough. “Just give me a moment. That’s all I ask.”
“And I’m telling you I have nothing more to say to you.” I put the cup down and turn back to him. “We’re going our separate ways, remember?”
He nods.
“That’s how it has to be, and leaving things as they are makes it easier.”
“Isla, I am begging you. Hear me out. Just once. If you still don’t want to speak to me after, I’ll respect that. I swear it.”
I close my eyes. Kakara help me; the pain in his voice nearly undoes me.
“No, I don’t need to, and I don’t want to. That’s all there is to it.”
A long silence stretches between us.
“Alright,” he says at last. The word is hollow.
He turns and walks away.
I open my eyes and stare at the wall. My vision blurs for a moment, and I blink hard, refusing to let it go further than that.
He’s upset. I know he is. I could hear it in every word; in the way his voice broke on that last syllable. Part of me wants to run after him, to throw open that door and tell him to say whatever it is he needs to say.
But I can’t. I won’t.
He may have come to help me escape the shadowfae castle, but it was too little too late. The damage has been done.
I turn from the wash area and reach for my pack, which I left on the bench near the hearth. I rummage through it until my fingers find the small cloth pouch. The bark inside is dark and dry, and when I press it to my nose, the familiar bitter scent rises up.
Like leather soaked in bile.I give a small smile when I think about Terra’s words because they’re true.
I find a pot hanging from a hook by the fire and fill it with water from the pitcher on the sideboard, then hang it over the embers to heat. I pull a clay cup from the shelf and place a few pieces of the bark inside it.
“Can I use a little of the honey?” I ask Maya. “Just a drizzle for my tea.”
“Of course you can,” she tells me as she fills the washbasin, keeping an eye on Maxwell as he plays. “If you want to talk about it,” she says softly, “I’m here.”
I should say no. I should keep it all locked away where it can’t do any more damage.
But Maya’s eyes are kind.
“It’s just that I thought we had something,” I hear myself say. “Sebastian and me.” I lean against the stone of the hearth, the warmth at my back. “I was wrong. Sebastian accused me of lying. Of working together with Snow. It hurt me so deeply that I don’t think that there is anything he can say to fix it. The way he looked at me.” I shake my head.
Maya winces. It’s a small, quick thing, a tightening of her features that tells me she understands the weight of what I just said.
“That’s…bad,” she says, huffing out a breath. “That’s really bad, Isla. Accusing someone of lying…” She shakes her head slowly. “Of conspiring with the queen.” She makes a noise. “That is almost impossible to come back from, especially after the two of you…” She twirls her fingers in the air.
