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Several possibilities came to mind, and he didn’t like any of them.
A look passed between the three and Lina and Fitz departed. Lina with a brush of her lips to Alys's, Fitz with a glance at Numair that he couldn’t parse out. Then he was left alone with his one-time friend and it was…awkward.
The last time he’d spoken to her at any length they’d had the argument that had effectively ended their friendship. Or rather, she’d argued. It had involved a lot of colorful language and the by-then familiar refrains of Why are you being like this? and You need to grow up and Don’t you have any self-respect left?
Mostly, he’d stood there and let her yell at him. It wasn’t as if he could say anything in his own defense. But he was pretty sure it had been him laughing and telling her to relax and calm down, followed by asking her if she wanted a drink—it had been barely an hour after dawn—that had made her descend from angry concern to cold disgust.
Her parting words had lived in his mind ever since. My parents were right. You aren’t who I thought you were. You aren’t anything. And you’re going to die sad, alone, and worthless.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It seems as if everything turned out like you wanted.”
She nodded, sharply. “It did.”
“I’m glad you’re all right. I’m glad she’s all right.”
Another nod, her hands twisting together, her mouth pressed in a tight line.
In his pockets, his hands curled. This—coming here—was a mistake. Maybe last night she’d felt a small remembrance of the friendship they’d shared when they were young and life wasn’t so complicated. But dawn had a way of shining light on those complications. He shook his head and moved for the door.
“I didn’t mean to abandon you.” The words tumbled out of her, so fast they were almost one word.
He halted.
“I shouldn’t have said what I did to you. I didn’t mean to say it.”
He didn’t know what to do with that. She might not have meant to say it, but she’d meant the words, and he couldn’t even blame her for them.
“And after…I was ashamed, and I didn’t know how to talk to you. And you—you didn’t seem to care that I was gone. Your life wasn’t any different without me in it.”
His life had been completely different without her in it. She’d been the last person who’d truly given a damn about him. And then she hadn’t. “If you honestly believe that, then you never knew me at all.”
“I thought I knew you. And then you became”—she waved her hand at him—“this. I tried to understand. I’m trying to again. But I can’t.”
“Do you have to?” He couldn’t stop himself from adding, “She doesn’t.”
“I don’t understand her either. But I don’t seem to hold it against her like I do you.” She scrubbed her hands over her face and exhaled heavily. “Lina and I are getting married. In two months. Will you come?”
It was a small offering, that invitation. But it was a start. It was a chance. “Of course I will.”
When he left, Fitz was waiting for him outside. “May I have a moment of your time, Your Highness?”
Numair wondered how much it had cost him to get the “Your Highness” out. Having come up under Verol’s tutelage, Fitz had likely heard Numair disparaged in the most colorful language possible.
He shrugged and continued walking, and Fitz fell into step beside him. They’d never spoken before, so it didn’t take a great deal of deductive reasoning to figure out why the man was approaching him now. But he was quiet until they moved beyond the estate’s grounds.
“Is she all right?” The man sounded downright tortured.
Numair halted, rounding on him. “What exactly did you do to her?”
Fitz winced. “What did she tell you?”
Nothing. She’d told him nothing, hadn’t even mentioned it, because that was the unspoken agreement between them. That they didn’t demand the right to know anything about the other. Maybe he was breaking that agreement in some way, now, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“I’m asking you. Did you hurt her? Did you touch her?”
Fitz paled. “Not…like that.”
“Then like what?” He wasn’t sure how he ended up with his forearm at Fitz’s throat, pinning him to the estate’s exterior wall. The transition was lost in the haze of anger thrumming through him. “Like what?” he demanded, pressing harder against Fitz’s throat.
