“If you say different one more time, I swear to the gods that I’m going to walk out that door and I will never, ever come back,” Lila said, the phrase awakening something inside her, some fear she’d had since they’d begun seeing one another. “Gods, Tristan, do you even see me at all? Do you even know who I am, or am I just some woman you dreamt up because your idea of me was more palatable than the real thing? I have never once snubbed you because you were a slave or because you’re a workborn. I have never once called the workborn inferior. Yet you’ve done as much to me every day we’ve been together. Who’s the snob now?”
“It doesn’t make me a snob. It makes me observant.”
“Observant? How observant can you be? I am a highborn, Tristan. This is who we are. I never hid myself with you. Highborns sacrifice the wants of the individual for the needs of the family.”
“For years, you didn’t do that.”
“Because I thought I was needed in the security office. Because I believed that my mother could pluck another heir to become prime. I was wrong.”
“Now the needs of the family dictate sleeping around?”
“We have a great many children because it preserves us. We take a great many lovers to do that.”
“Because it binds your kind with one another and earns you more and more money. That’s all your kind cares about.”
Lila clenched her hands into fists, her injured knuckles crying out. It was like she’d bent time to several weeks before and now stood in front of the old Tristan. “You don’t give two shits about the money or that I’m going to become prime, so stop arguing about it like you do.”
“I do care about that, actually. I care about that an awful lot. Apparently, I care about it more than you do.”
“No, you don’t. You’re pissed because in your mind, you have some special claim on me. This is why I resisted us being together. I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle a relationship with a highborn. People aren’t meant to have only one lover, just as they aren’t meant to have only one friend. We’re not meant to be monogamous, Tristan.”
“Yes, we are.”
“So workborn don’t cheat on one another?”
“Don’t do this, Lila.”
“I’m not the one running, Tristan. I know I should, but I’m too invested in this.” She waved her hand vaguely, unable to explain her feelings any more than that.
It was far more than she should have said, but Tristan didn’t seem to care. “I’m not going to be your toy on the side, Lila. I watched my mother do that all her life. I have more respect for myself than that.”
“How is it a question of respect? Does Shirley get angry that you’re friends with Doc? Does Doc get angry that you’re friends with Shirley?”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is. For oracle’s sake, Lila, I’m in love with you!” He looked away and sank his head into his hands. “Is that all this has ever been for you? Are we just friends who sleep together? I thought I meant more to you than that.”
Lila played with her sweater. Tristan had never said love before, though Dixon had hinted at his brother’s feelings more than once. Love implied marriage for the highborn, which was a great deal more than it implied for workborn. What particular shade of gray did Tristan even mean? “There’s a difference between lovers and friends.”
“Not much of one. Not for you.”
“Tristan—”
Tristan hopped up from the chair and slipped into his room. He came back seconds later, carrying the bag she’d left the day before. He dropped it next to her with a loud thump and backed away. “I guess the oracle’s prophecy has come true after all.”
“Tristan—”
“Just go, Lila, and take this with you. You won’t need it here any longer.”
The room went silent. He stared at her, daring her to say or do something.
Lila didn’t know what he expected. She snatched up the bag with her good hand, slinging it over her shoulder, then gave him one last look before she turned and walked out the door.
He didn’t call out for her to return.
Chapter 13