Page 118 of Godless Saints

I glared at every one of them at the table. At Vivienne’s smile right next to me. At Mikhail still rubbing the back of his head.

I had won the Patronage Seat.

I didn’t feel triumphant.

I felt… nothing.

How?

Why?

After all the scandals, would Aster Court still accept me as their leader? My father would be happy when I called him tonight. That should have mattered.

It didn’t.

They still chose me.

A chair shifted beside me. Cillian had gone very still. He was looking only at me, green eyes soft in a way that made my chest ache.

“You did it, prince,” he said quietly.

“Did I though?”

Cillian’s gaze dropped to my tray. Just coffee. Nothing else. His jaw tightened for a fraction of a second. He knew I’d been eating, or at least he’d hoped I had. The runners he’d sent to my room three times a day hadn’t gone unnoticed. But clearly that wasn’t enough for him.

“You need to eat, I’ll grab you food,” he said.

I looked up at him. “I’m not a child. I can feed myself.”

“Sure, prince.” He stood. “I’m getting you a proper plate.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. Instead, I sank into the chair with a tired sigh. “Fine. Whatever.”

The table was loud around me. Aleksei and Mikhail were arguing in low Russian. Vivienne was calmly dismantling Sawyer’s latest chaotic idea. Sawyer grinned like a maniac, throwing fuel on the fire. Everyone was talking, laughing, existing like the world hadn’t tilted violently less than a week ago.

I could barely keep my eyes open from fatigue. My body still ached in places I didn’t want to name. My mind felt slow and foggy. I just wanted to drink my coffee and perish.

Cillian returned and set a full plate in front of me. Rice, grilled meat, banchan, exactly how I liked it. Then he dropped back into his seat. “Eat,” he said, low enough only I could hear.

I picked up my chopsticks without looking at him. He brought me fucking chopsticks.

A little while later, as the conversation continued around us, Sawyer leaned forward, his usual playful mask slipping into something more serious.

“Hey, Hyun,” Sawyer said, eyes locking onto mine. “Can we talk? Privately.”

Sawyer grabbed my sleeve and hauled me down the hall, away from the cafeteria noise. The second we were out of sight he stopped, hands jammed deep in his pockets as if he was trying not to fidget.

“Carrick’s backed off,” he said quickly. “I can’t promise forever, but if he tries shit again, I’ll bite his fucking ears off.”

I watched him. He sounded too rehearsed.

“I heard something during the Winter Ball,” he continued. “Just pieces. Declan and Ronan planning something involving you and Cillian. I didn’t know about the cottage. I didn’t know they’d actually come for you like that.”

My stomach tightened. “Sawyer…”

“I panicked,” he cut in. “I only managed to intercept Declan.”

I dragged my hand down my face. “What did you do?”