Page 198 of The Ascended
I would seek him out on my own. Tonight.
Chapter 48
The Snap
Xül’s studylooked the same as it always had—the massive desk of polished ebony, the shelves lined with weathered books, the fireplace casting a warm glow over everything. Xül stood with his back to the door, pouring amber liquid into two crystal glasses.
"I was wondering if you’d make an appearance," he observed without turning around. "Close the door."
I did as he asked, then stood awkwardly just inside the threshold, suddenly unsure of myself.
He turned, offering me one of the glasses. "You look like you need this."
I took it, careful not to let our fingers brush. "Is this your standard approach to trial preparation? Get your contestant drunk?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Only the difficult ones."
I sipped the liquor, welcoming the burn as it traveled down my throat. "And am I difficult, Warden?"
"Beyond measure," he said, grinning. He settled into one of the high-backed chairs near the fire. "Do you remember the first time you entered this room?"
I took another sip before answering. "I remember."
"You were such a brat," he said, almost smiling. "So convinced of your own importance. Looking for special treatment."
"If you equate the bare minimum with special treatment, I suppose you're right," I countered.
The liquor began to work its magic, dulling the edges of my shame and loosening my tongue. Before I could think better of it, I blurted out the words that had been haunting me.
"I'm sorry for what happened in the trial," I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes.
He set his glass down with deliberate care. "You have nothing to apologize for."
"Don't lie to me," I said. "I saw your face afterward."
"That’s why you’re so angry with me? Physical desire is natural, Thais," he said after a long pause. "But it's harmless in the end. Nothing to worry over."
Harmless. The word nearly stabbed me in the heart.
"You wouldn't even look at me," I said, unable to keep the accusation from my voice.
"That's not true."
I rose from my chair, propelled by a sudden surge of anger. I crossed to where he sat, standing over him in a rare reversal of our usual positions.
"Don't lie," I said, the words rushing out now, unstoppable. "You couldn't even acknowledge me."
Irritation gave way to a darker expression.
"I couldn't look at you," he admitted, his voice so low I had to strain to hear it.
"I know," I bit out. "You were embarrassed. Ashamed?—"
"You have it all wrong."
"Then correct me."
He shook his head, looking away again in that dismissive gesture that made me want to scream.
