My vision begins to darken around the edges. I feel nauseous.
Did he always know who I was before I told him what I learned?
Was he just trying to get close to me? Use me?
I think I’m going to be sick.
My chest begins to grow tight, and I realize I’m struggling to breathe.
I slam the book closed and push away from the table. The chair clatters to the ground behind me but I don’t even care.
“Your highness?” I hear Adriana call from behind me, but it’s as if I’m underwater. Her voice is distant and warped.
I stumble out the door with no real destination in mind.
I blindly stagger through the halls and around corners until I find myself outside the palace in the gardens at the entrance of what looks like a hedge maze.
Taking a few steps into the maze, I find a stone bench and immediately collapse onto it.
I bend over my legs, holding my head up and take long slow breaths in and out, trying to calm my rising panic and ease the nausea.
I blinkmy eyes until my vision comes into focus.
Bastian’s room in the cottage.
My stomach turns with anxiety at the confrontation that I know is coming.
Bastian is sitting on the edge of the bed with a soft smile on his face which only sends a sharp pang through my chest, knowing he’s been lying to me. That all of this is a lie.
Between him and Fleur, can I even trust anyone? I’m seething. I want to break something. I want to scream and yell until my voice is hoarse. I want to curl up in my bed and cry for a week. A year.
I never want to see him again.
How could you?
His smile falters the slightest before he rises to his feet and starts to take a step towards me. “Staellara,I’ve missed you.” I hold up my hand, halting his approach. His brows furrow in confusion and the smile drops into a frown. “Staellara, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t call me that,” I say sharply.
His head rears back as if I’ve hit him. My words a physical blow.
“I— Liv, what’s going on?”
“Who are you?” I bite out.
He tilts his head at me as if he’s unsure what I mean by the question.
“You know who I am… Sebastian,” he draws out slowly.
“You know that’s not what I mean,” I retort, an eyebrow raised in challenge.
The moment my words land, the confusion leaves his face, replaced by surprise. His eyes wide and eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.
Safe to assume he didn’t expect me to figure it out.
How stupid could I be? He’s probably been laughing at me the entire time.
“Are you really the Unseelie Prince?” I ask, fighting back against the way my voice wants to crack, but the hurt is still evident all the same.
