Queen of Nothing

20. Queen of Lies

Tristan stayed with me in my hotel room for the next few days. Neither of us wanted to speak about the events that unfolded in the king's house, or the implications of what was said, but it remained on both of our minds. Tristan didn't seem to be in the mood to face the world, and I was too scared to. So we spent our days in self-imposed exile, stuck in limbo in a room that seemed to get smaller by the hour.

The lack of privacy in this arrangement was far from ideal. I had to wait until Tristan went out for food or pretend I needed a cigarette just so I could make phone calls. Daphne was just as pleased with my news as I thought she'd be, but she promised to take care of the Sheridan problem soon, but I needed to keep my head down. That meant no more magic lessons for a while, which, though disappointing, spared me from having to explain to Tristan where I was going.

Tristan was sprawled on the bed when I returned. "How's the duke?" he asked. I'd told him I was calling James.

"Fine," I lied with a nonchalant shrug. It wasn't completely untrue. I'd spoken to him last night while Tristan was having a drink downstairs. "He said King Nathaniel's on vacation right now, so the Duke of New York's running the show."

Tristan nodded along. "I've never known my uncle to take a vacation. Not even when..." a somber look crossed his features. It was easy to tell that he'd been about to mention his parents' deaths.

"Anything new with you?" I asked in as lighthearted a tone as I could muster. I wasn't exactly comfortable talking about Tristan's family tragedy, and I could tell neither was he.

"Oh you know, I'm stuck in this hotel room wondering just how badly I fucked up. The usual," he replied.

"How long do you think your uncle's gonna be mad at you?"

Tristan shrugged. "He's probably cooled down, for the most part."

"Then why are you still here?" I asked, mentally chastising myself for how that sounded. "Don't you want to go reconcile with him?"

Tristan shook his head. "Not really."

"Why not?" I flopped down on the bed next to him.

Sighing, he propped himself up against the headboard and turned to glance out the window. "Because I doubt he actually changed his mind about you. About us."

I fidgeted with the hem of my robe. So we were about to have this conversation, huh?

"Did you mean it?" I found myself asking. "What you said to him?" About loving me?

A nervous smile played across his lips. "I wish I'd said it to you first."

My breath caught in my lungs. I couldn't move, couldn't speak. It was one thing to hear him say it indirectly, and another to hear him admit it.

Tristan frowned, mistaking my silence for something else. "You probably think I'm an idiot."

"Why?" I asked softly.

Tristan cast his eyes downwards, away from me. "Because what if he's right? How could I love you when I barely know you?"

My pulse quickened. I stared blankly at him, unsure of how to proceed.

Tristan smiled sadly. "At the same time, I don't know of any other way to describe the way I feel about you; the way you make me feel. I can't think about anything else. Anyone else."

"Are you sure it's not because I'm just that hot?" I joked.

It was clearly inappropriate to make light of the fact that Tristan had just bared his heart to me, but I had no idea what else to do. I couldn't very well admit that I returned his feelings because from my end, the situation was... complicated. I cared about him, yet I spent almost every waking moment lying to him. He was right to say he didn't truly know me, and I was afraid that if he found out the truth everything would be over between us. And not because I'd deceived him about my true intentions, but because the real Sabine Ambrose, the girl who lived underneath the carefully crafted mask I showed to him, was not someone he would ever dare to fall in love with.