His other eyebrow followed the first.
“Writing things down helps me cope—helps me process. I get so worked up in my own head sometimes that I don't even know how to describe how I feel. Being able to put the thoughts on paper just…fixes me,” I clarified.
“You don't need to be fixed. There's nothing wrong with you.”
I scoffed. “You clearly don't know me well enough yet. I'm a mess.”
“Doubtful.”
“You saw how I reacted in the throne room on my first day here—that's pretty much a prime example of how my entire life has been,” I countered.
“Being scared about things to come doesn't mean that you're broken.”
“It does when your entire existence is wasted on that feeling,” I pinched out, my throat nearly too tight to speak.
Sebastian chewed on his cheek and looked out the window. “My mother liked to write.”
“Did she? What did she write?”
“Poetry, amongst other things,” he said softly.
“Did she like to read as well?” He always had a book with him, so I wondered if that's where he got his love of reading from.
“So I’m told.”
My heart sank. At his core, Sebastian was just a boy who missed his mother.
I moved back to my bed, throwing myself on it. I was exhausted and ready to go to sleep, but he didn't seem like he would be leaving anytime soon. I thought about our meeting with his father today, and I knew that I shouldn’t pry, but he said it himself—I was not a good rule follower.
“Can I ask you something?”
Sebastian turned his attention to me. “Anything.”
“What’s the deal with you and your father?”
He shook his head and pushed out of the armchair, heading for the door. “Nope. We’re not doing this,” he cautioned.
I jumped up and beat him to the exit, using my body to block him.
“No. That’s not fair,” I said firmly. “You said I could ask anything. You don’t get to question me and not let me do it back. Now spill.”
Sebastian shifted uncomfortably, but he didn't try to argue with me any further. He stepped away from the door towards the window, leaving his back pointed at me.
“You know how you have very strong opinions about how those gifted by the gods shouldn't be forced into soldiery?” He looked over his shoulder at me.
I bobbed my head in response and he turned away again.
“I have the same opinions as you.”
My jaw slacked. That was not what I expected to hear from the king's head soldier.
“I know that's not what you meant by your question.” He looked over at me when I moved to stand beside him. “And seeing how you had the guts to even ask, I'm going to assume that Pia already told you some of it.” Sebastian's face looked so dismal that I regretted bringing the topic up. He waited for me to respond, not taking his eyes off of me until I did.
“Yeah. She told me a little bit, but?—”
He bit his lip and nodded, looking down at where his hands braced against the window sill.
“If you feel the same, then why do you allow him to do it?” I asked innocently, not thinking anything of the question.
