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I look away, unable to deal with that scrutiny. “If you’ve come here to mock me, you can fuck off.”
“No can do, kiddo.”
“Kiddo?” I bark, laughing. “You were always weird. I shouldn’t be surprised this is how you’ve turned out. I’m astonished you passed Alistair’s scrutiny.”
“Hey, I’m a prime example of loyalty. Babysitting you was a hard ask, but I thought we’d use the time wisely.”
“To do what?” I ask, and he purses his lips. “To do what, Sebastian?”
“Talk.” He shrugs.
“Talk? Are you serious right now?”
He nods. “We used to talk a lot.”
I turn back to the city. That life we shared was a long time ago. I know it. He knows it. Everyone else knows it too. I know he’s not here to be my friend, and I’m not here to play.
“Does he know I was there that day?”
“No.”
“So you’re still lying to him.”
“You’re well versed in that.” It’s an intentional jab, but it doesn’t hurt. “Thought we’d make good company.”
“Why won’t you tell him? What have you got to lose?”
I know it boils down to trust. It always has with Beckett. Which is why my father’s teaching was one that I always held true to because, no matter what, when trust is gone and people show themselves, you know exactly how to play the game.
“People saw me, though.” I narrow my gaze on him questioningly. “How did they not say a word?”
Sebastian smirks. “He’s king now, doll. No one just talks to the king.”
The thought opens a pit in my stomach. He’s king now, so where does that leave me?
I’m a bad taste in some people’s mouths. I’m the devil in most people’s retelling. I’m the fallen queen denied her crown before she even felt its fit.
“I know you hate it.”
I bristle. “What part?”
“This. That. Him.” Sebastian gives a small grin, and an even smaller shrug matches it. He knows the past, he knows the present, but the future is anyone’s for the taking. “I know you hate everything.”
“Can you blame me?”
“I don’t know. Can I?”
He regards me from all of three feet away. A hardened gaze meets mine, and I can see the disdain he has for me in full technicolour, but there’s something else there. A familiarity.
“I suppose you know what happened between me and Beckett?”
He clears his throat, shifting as if suddenly uncomfortable. “More than most, yeah.”
“And you’re okay with it?”
“No, but I have to be, don’t I?”
This time, I shrug. “I don’t know. Do you?”
