“What incident?” Sawyer’s voice was a pitch over normal when he, too, entered the lounge.
“The one where you and Willawood sucked face, and then she told Hawthorne who now refuses to talk to her,” Kade responded almost too nonchalantly.
Sawyer’s attention swallowed me whole. “Youtoldhim?”
My forehead creased. “You didn't know that? He hasn't spoken to either of us in days. Where the hell have you been?”
“I thought he was just brooding because you hadn’t taken him back yet.” Sawyer shrugged, stepping straight for the bar cart and pouring himself a tall glass of whiskey on the rocks.
“Nope. Brooding because I kissed his best friend.”
“Understandable reason to brood.” Sawyer sucked in a breath along with his lips. “I should talk to him. Explain that I just had too much to drink at the party.”
That was a lie if I’d ever heard one.
“Don’t bother,” I replied, tracing the rim of my empty glass with my fingertip. “I’ve tried. More than once. After the funeral. At breakfast the morning after. This afternoon before he went to train with Kohen.” I shot Kohen a look that severed the line between apologetic and aggravated. “He won’t listen. And I don't blame him.”
Sawyer scratched the back of his neck. “Why hasn’t he tried to murder me yet? The fact that hehasn’tis arguably scarier than him trying to.”
“Knowing Seb, he’s probably trying to come up with a strategic plan so he can make it look like an accident,” Kohen answered.
“He probably thinks there is more going on between you and Maeve, and doesn’t want to kill you because he would rather her be happy than you be dead,” Pia said without looking up. “If I had a guess,” she added with a shrug.
My eyes jumped towards her, a brow arched. “Guessing you talked to him?”
She paused before nodding slowly, and that made my heart sink.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Back in my room early that evening, I changed into an outfit for training then made my way to the arena. I had a feeling that a certain soldier would be there. If not now, then within due course.
Later it was. The arena was completely empty.
I tossed my bag to the mat, then pulled a mannequin free from the storage room. I put it in the center of the mat, then spent the next half hour beating the absolute shit out of it. I had a lot of pent up energy to dispose of.
When the dummy had enough of my fist, I gave it a taste of my dagger. I ignored the blood dripping from my torn knuckles and finished my opponent off with a rather large dosage of starlight, leaving a pile of ash on the mat.
“Pretending that it's Bitchmont again?”
I spun on my heel, my already increased heart rate jumping straight to tachycardic. “Always.”
Sebastian stepped further into the arena, halting at the edge of the mat. He pointed at my hands. “You should wear gloves if you're going to go hard like that.”
I rubbed my knuckles, smearing the blood with my fingers. “Next time.” I shrugged.
A dark curl teased the corner of his eye. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face and flaunting his bicep all at once. Then without another word, he turned and left the way he came.
I was surprised he even spoke to me, but I still cursed under my breath at his exit.
Determining I’d try again another time, I made back for the storage room to get a broom to clean up the mess of stardust. When I returned to the mat, I found Sebastian had rejoined the arena.
He walked straight for me, holding a spool of bandages. “Give me your hands,” he ordered.
“I’m fine, it’s?—”
He grabbed my wrist, pulling me a few paces forward. “Stubborn,” he growled under his breath.
