“Very nice,” Catherine said. Her hands were on her hips now, and she was eyeing me with almost contempt. Knowing that I deserved it did not make any of it better, and I wished they were all out of the room. I wanted to be alone.
“Can you just let me sleep? You can be as mad at me as you would like tomorrow,” I said.
“We are all tired. Your sister hasn’t slept one wink and here she is, stitching you up as neatly as any doctor could do.” Catherine looked admiringly at the handiwork, then at my sister in full. Rose’s cheeks pinked a little, and I remembered her confidences.
I closed my eyes, a cold swirl of guilt roaming my stomach, and all I wanted to do was sleep, forget everything that had happened for a few dreamless hours.
“Done.” With one last pinch, Rose snipped the thread, and I felt the bed move as she shifted back. “I can’t do much for your paralyzed arm.”
“That’s all right; it’ll come back. Thank you.” I did not open my eyes. “Please get some rest.”
I heard a little scoff from Catherine, then a long sigh.
“Fine. But you should at least apologize to Mr. Braddock.”
Catherine had softened a little when I caught her eyes.
“Why?”
“He has taken himself off to the attic. He doesn’t want to be near anyone without you to cancel his powers out.”
Rose dropped her tools into a borrowed medical kit from Tuffins and gave my hand a squeeze.
“Rest,” Rose said kindly. Then, with one more baleful glare in my direction from Catherine, the two of them left, and the door softly clicked shut.
I could feel Miss Chen’s eyes on me.
“Blast, blast, blast.” I kicked the covers off, jamming my feet into slippers.
I hadn’t thought about how this would affect Sebastian.
“He’s fine. He will just have to stay apart for a bit—” Miss Chen began. She tried to raise herself up a bit but winced.
“You don’t know him,” I muttered, wrapping a robe around me and letting the flash of pain as it brushed my stitches act as a useful reminder: I had been careless and selfish. “He is going to find some way to blame this all on himself.”
“Well, I still don’t see how it’s all your fault, but it’s certainly not his.”
“No,” I agreed, “not his at all.”
“I am sure he is sleeping,” Miss Chen tried again.
“He is not sleeping. He is brooding,” I corrected her and left the room, padding up to the attic.
My stomach sank as I thought about his fragile progress, the progress I took from him. He was only beginning to come back to us, to find some purpose and endure his power. And by losing my power, I’d isolated him from everyone else again.
Not to mention the rather daunting information I now had. That no one else in the world shared his power.
The attic room was not hard to find. I just continued up until I could go no farther, and at the top of a narrow set of stairs was a small door.
When I gently pushed it open, my breath actually caught.
Illuminated by a circle of warmth from an oil lamp, Sebastian lay on a thin camp bed, his shirt slightly parted, his legs crossed at the ankles as he read a book, licking a finger as he flipped a page. From across the room, I could make out a slight stubble and a smudge of dark lashes.
He somehow managed to look terribly romantic, terribly tragic, and yet ready to leap into danger at any moment.
“Do you put effort into looking like that?” I called.
He looked up, fumbling as he almost dropped his book. Very correctly he came to his feet, only he misjudged the height of the ceiling and hit it with a solid smack.
He held the top of his head, wincing, and I hurried toward him before I could think.
Just before I reached out to touch him, his eyes flew open, panic swirling inside, and he stumbled back. “No!”
I stopped, feeling the faintly thicker air. So this was his power.
“Get back! Get back!” Sebastian was huddled as far from me as he could get, though he was eyeing the window in a way that had me thinking he would jump out if necessary. I fell back till ten feet of space lay between us.
“It’s all right; it’s all right,” I said, hoping my composure would help his. “I am perfectly well.”
“Stay there,” he commanded, his hand shaking as he clutched at his shirt. “For God’s sake, Evelyn—”
“I am fine!”
“You could have been killed.”
“Do not be so theatrical. I would have needed to stand there for twelve hours, and boredom would have taken me first.”
He groaned and half started a new sentence a few times before finally sighing. “Just … stay there.”
“I’m not moving.”
“I know, I just…”
“Sebastian. Get back to your bed. I won’t move. I promise.” I finally took pity on him.
Slowly, he inched back to the bed, and I gingerly sat on the dusty floor. A lash of pain flew up my injured arm as I tried to rearrange myself with one hand. I must not have concealed the pain well, for Sebastian was staring at me, frowning.
“How badly injured are you?”
“Nothing Rose couldn’t take care of.”
He slumped back. “He could have killed you.”
“Actually, he only would have captured me and kept me in a cage for the rest of my life. He told me so himself.” I tried to smile, but it seemed like too much effort right now.
We sat in silence for a while.
“I am sorry.” I blurted the words out without really knowing I was going to apologize. But I was sorry that my actions had landed Sebastian in this room and sorrier still that he would undoubtedly find a way to make this all his fault.
“At this point, I am not even surprised you acted as you did.”
“Oh. Is that … better?”
“No.”
I scrutinized him thoroughly, looking for a hint that he was taking this on himself, but he seemed nothing more than irritated. “You are not going to do that thing you do, then?”
“What thing?
“The thing where you make everything all your fault?”
He snorted and raised one eyebrow, looking as imperious and arrogant as I had suspected him to be when we first met. “I have killed a lot of people, Evelyn—or at least my power has, but I cannot claim responsibility for when you act stubbornly. That is as certain as the sun rising in the morning.”
I could feel myself gaping but was unable to stop it. “That is … I am…”
He crossed his arms, making his shirt part again at the neck so I could make out a little golden skin beneath.
“Sorry,” I finally pronounced.
“No, you aren’t. If you were, you wouldn’t keep doing this. You wouldn’t keep acting like some sort of … of … Byronic hero.”
I did not hear him clearly. “Excuse me?”
“Your behavior, it’s everything you’ve ever accused me of. Your short temper, your cynicism, your brooding, your violent obsession—”
I glared at him. “You’re joking.”
“And most of all, this solitary revenge path. This foolish, self-destructive need to do everything on your own.”
I stood up, done with everyone in this house. “Fine. I acted rashly and made a mistake. I admit it. But please never call me—”
“It’s not just now!” He jumped off the bed, coming slightly closer. “You almost got yourself killed by Dr. Beck, you almost got yourself killed by the Society, and you’ve done it twice with Captain Goode. There’s a pattern. I have been thinking it for ages but didn’t want to say it, but it is here, and it is assuredly Byronic.”
I stepped forward as well, so we were as close as we could be without his powers affecting me. “You, of all people, have some nerve saying that. I rescind my apology.”
“I did not accept it anyway, as it was false.”
“Fine,” I growled. “Even though you are as wrong as … as … as something very wrong, I can’t change how you see me or how I am, for that matter. I won’t suddenly be a paragon of virtue or whatever it is you think I should be. I’m not ever going to be like … like…” Mae, some dark part of me wanted to scream.
Sebastian looked up so sharply I thought maybe I had said it out loud. But his jaw tightened and he pressed on. “I don’t want you to change. I … I just need you to talk to me.”
“I’ve done nothing these past weeks but try to get you to talk.”