Page 55 of Changeling
Fantastic. That’s the last thing I want. A bunch of needy incubi fretting over me. They have their own lives, and I’d hate to be a nuisance. “Maybe I should let Annais take over for a while. He’s ready. What do you think?”
Leonas gives a slow nod. “I think Annais is an excellent choice to host The Twig and would make a fine stand-in to handle your responsibilities, but the switch does little to solve the actual problem. Which is that you’re depressed, and we all care for you. Let us help.”
I don’t see anything they could do. I thought I was putting on a brave face, pretending everything was fine, but if they all know? Well, I’ve never been much of an actor. I’ll just have to do better.
Clearing the clutter—which, if I’m being honest, does bother me—is a fine place to start.
“Please tell everyone I’m feeling fine. I’ll just get this cleaned up, and I’ll be right out. Perhaps Rizpah could arrange a group meal? I’m sure sitting down and being with everyone is all I need.”
Firm words, but they ring hollow. Not that I meant to lie. Just that the thought of pretending in front of our entire den is exhausting. Actually following through with it will be a nightmare. But I’ll do it for the others.
Leonas shakes his head. “I’ll speak with Rizpah, but I will lie to no one. If you want to tell them you’re fine, go right ahead, but saying so doesn’t make it true.”
I want to crawl under a rock where the only creatures I must impress are my fellow worms.
“What do you want from me, Leonas? Name it, and I’ll do it.”
He leans forward, and his features take on a serious expression. “Write to him. Confess. Tell him what he means to you and ask him to come back.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Leonas, what if he’s happy there? He probably is, you know. With others of his kind, new friends, lovers of his choosing, and all wrapped in the fancy package of a castle in the northern hills. I couldn’t possibly ask him to leave all that for me.”
“And what if he’s not? Hmm?” Leonas cocks his head like, well, a cat. Fitting. “What if he’s as miserable as you? Wishing he hadn’t left? Wondering how you’re getting on and probably assuming you’re perfectly fine without him? Which you clearly aren’t. What then? One of you has to be the first to give in.”
I don’t believe that. Sebastian doesn’t need me like I need him. He’s free to go anywhere, do anything. I won’t be the one to restrict that for him. “I can’t.”
Leonas huffs. “Just be honest with him. It’s what he’d want. Don’t deny it, because you know it’s true. Besides, he’s living with witches powerful enough to portal. Surely, a visit could be arranged if either of you were slightly less pig-headed about suggesting such.”
Does Leonas have a point? My mind feels muddled enough not to be sure. I don’t trust myself. “I’ll think about it, Leonas, and that will have to be enough for now.”
He rises, elegant as always, and stands before me. He brushes a lock of uncombed hair behind my ear. “Put on something pretty, take your time choosing the perfect jewelry, and fix your beautiful hair into braids. But don’t do it for us. Do it for you because you enjoy it. Yeah?”
I nod. The sparkling rings, bracelets, and jewels in my collection do hold a certain appeal. He’s right. Maybe if I make the effort, it will help me feel better.
“Then come join Rizpah and me for a meal. Promise?”
“Promise.” I offer my friend a smile, and even though I’m sad, the smile is genuine. I’m lucky to have a loyal companion like Leonas in my life. Has he ever lost his mind for a man the way I’m totally gone for Sebastian? He’s so stoic; it doesn’t seem like him to ever be smitten. “I’ll be down soon.”
“Good.” Leonas returns the smile, then departs, leaving me and my clutter alone.
I get to my feet, my gaze drifting toward the stationary on my desk.
A letter.
It’s not a terrible idea. I couldn’t do as Leonas suggested and confess to Sebastian my need for him or beg him to return, though.
But perhaps I could write just to say hello? Something that couldn’t be misconstrued as desperate longing. Something more general.
With a resolved sigh, I settle into my wooden desk chair and select a piece of paper and a quill.
Dearest Sebastian,
No. Overly sentimental. I crumple the page and begin on another.
Dear Sebastian,
