Episode 3 Sneak Peek #13

This is from a branch where the MC did not trigger either or the reconciliation scenes, or chose to break off their romance with Aeran. I removed the flavour text tags, so some additional conditional things: Rhodarth is alive, MC talked to Veyer in the gallery, and MC's mentor is Cenric. 

1. “Bad night?”

He stares dully at the floor. “Fine.”

“Liar.”

You snort and roll your eyes. Loading a plate with a generous helping, you dig in and eat in silence, taunting him with your careless body language. There is only one thing you need him to understand: his words hold no sway over you. You’re not going to bow and grovel and crawl back to him with some false apology for pushing him too far. He hurt you. Not the other way around.

Aeran watches you and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m fine,” he repeats. “Anxious to get going.”

“Why? Lethalis won’t let us be late.”

“$firstname—”

“Or if you really are that anxious, why don’t you get a head start? The door’s right there.”

You gesture to the foyer. He grimaces, his eyes darting around the room as he follows your pointing finger. For a moment, he looks like he is on the verge of getting up and following your advice, but he remains seated. His hand curls into a fist.

“Don’t be like this, $firstname,” he says quietly. “Please.”

“Like what?” You pop an olive into your mouth. “I’m the same as I ever was.”

He closes his eyes, sighing irritably. “You don’t understand. Malsara—”

[CHOICE] 1. “Though I suppose I could be better. I had an interesting proposition last night. Regret not taking them up on it, I’m sure it would have been fun.”
2. “Add it to the list, then. Alongside the Spire and you.”
3. Let him finish.

Aeran’s eyes widen, heat flushing across his cheeks. “You… what?” From the strangled noise in his throat, you know he knows exactly what you meant by proposition. “It’s a good thing you didn’t. Zenaida—”

“Why not?” you interrupt, pouring yourself tea. It comes out of the pot piping hot. Fanning away the steam, you wrap your hands around the cup and raise it to your lips, the rich cardamom scent wafting over you. The brass sears your palms. “What I do on my free time is none of her business.”

He runs a hand over his mouth and chin, spluttering his next words. “It’s not… professional—”

The tea burns your mouth, but you swallow it anyway. “A little sex didn’t hurt anyone, Aeran,” you say. “Except maybe you and Rhodarth, you’re far too uptight for it. How did that work, by the way? Or was it just another one of your relationships you couldn’t wait to self-destruct?”

He rounds on you and his mouth twists into a snarl. “Leave Rho out of this—”

“Gladly. He doesn’t deserve it.” You set down your cup. Unsurprisingly, you did not find the cardamom soothing. “Shame, really. Veyer almost had me convinced. A Wayfarer and a Guild mage… would have been an interesting night.”

Aeran stiffens. “Veyer?” he asks, their name garbled in his mouth. “Veyer asked you to…”

He shoves off the couch, pacing furiously across the room. You watch him, absently mulling over the breakfast feast, trying to decide what to select next. A spiteful feeling twists triumphantly in your gut, pleased that you’ve goaded this reaction out of him. Whether he’s furious that you could have slept with a Guild mage, hating himself for destroying what you had, for simply jealous—you don’t care. It’s more than enough to see him squirm.

“What?” you call. “Is it too much for you that someone else would want to sleep with me?”

“You don’t know them, $nickname. Whatever game they’re playing, they wanted to tangle you in it, too. They’re an Imperial court mage, it’s all they ever do—”

“It was just sex they were after, Aeran. It’s not that serious.”

The words fall out of your mouth easily. Whether you believe them or not, it doesn’t matter—you know it’s exactly what you need to say to piss him off.

True to form, he scowls and curses under his breath. But instead of giving you the retort you wanted, he turns his back on you and strides for the balcony exit, putting as much distance between you and him as the room will allow.

Irritation twists in your gut. “Besides, I said no!” you shout, rising to your feet. “I wasn’t going to go through with it, so what, exactly, is your problem?”

Aeran wheels around, eyes dark and hurting. “No problem at all,” he says hoarsely. “Fuck whoever you want, $firstname, it’s not my business.”

An ache pangs in your chest, too far removed for you to care. “Good,” you spit. “Glad we finally agree on something. I’m sure Cenric and Varyn would be so proud of us if they could see us now.”