Because I Love You✔️

Chapter 148: "Am I Not Unwanted?"

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Eight: "Am I Not Unwanted?"

Xaphile stared up at the ceiling as he lay on his back beside Adariel.

After eating dinner, everyone had turned in early, but aside from the first tentative inquiries, nobody had asked any questions about the spat between him and Ella. He assumed that his friends thought it was just the typical stuff, since they did tend to argue a lot.

But this was different.

He had almost lost total consciousness while he'd been talking with her in the baths.

It was like what happened when he got too angry and blacked out: unaware of what he was doing, and only remembering it in depth once he snapped out of it.

He swallowed hard, face flushing as he thought about what he'd done.

Then he thought about the dream of the boy inside the mirror, the faery who looked exactly like him.

Ella's bruised head throbbed in time to his heartbeat.

He had questions, but as far as he knew, only one person could answer them.

The only person who was still awake, but had conveniently made himself scarce.

Xaphile carefully detached himself from Adariel's sleeping side and sat up, running a hand across his face.

He didn't like the thought of talking to Vordt about this.

It worried him that his hypothesis might make his uncle not want him. At least, not the way he was, inside.

Plus, he had been very unhappy lately, since Vordt had practically ignored him since they'd left Calcoon. He knew it was selfish, he knew that he shouldn't, but he wanted more. He wanted to know why Vordt's approval made him feel flustered and happy, wanted to know what it would be like to have his attention for more than ten seconds at a time.

Like when they'd spent the whole day singing together back in Calcoon, like when they'd sat together in the darkness of Vordt's secret haven and talked for hours and hours.

Inch by inch, his uncle was winning a war that he wasn't even fighting.

Xaphile wasn't being defeated, but he was losing all the same.

He looked around the dark room, taking in the shapes of his friends' sleeping bodies. Moonlight filtered in through the inn window as he rose and, step by step, made his way toward the door. He took one glance back at his little brother.

His tail flicked in his sleep, mouth slightly open, beautiful eyes closed.

Xaphile sighed, then stepped into the hall, shut the door behind him, and turned, tugging his hood up as he walked.

Vordt was sitting in the farthest corner of the room, nursing a mug of something that was probably alcoholic. His footsteps faltered as his heart lurched: he stood frozen, staring at the mug, remembering how bad his father's drinking problem had been.

The way he'd acted sober had been different than when he'd been drunk.

Vordt's body twitched and his head swiveled, blue-green eyes landing on him. A thick black brow rose above the irritated skepticism that shredded across his face.