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Sebastian felt the cut of that in his chest and had no one to blame but himself for provoking Hess to it.
So he turned on his heel and stormed out.
Chapter Two
Sebastian dragged himself into the makeshift spy room he’d been directed to. After storming from the meeting, he’d found a bed in the barracks and collapsed to sleep. His nap had only been long enough to remind him how tired he was, and then Colin mercilessly kicked him out of bed and told him Joan was asking for him.
Anyone else and Sebastian might have grumbled that they could come get him themselves, but if he knew Joan, she was running on even less sleep than he was. Sure enough, he found her standing over a desk scattered with data tablets—a poor woman’s version of a wall of screens—holding a mug of klak that was no longer steaming.
“No rest for the wicked, huh?” Sebastian dropped himself into a chair that was missing a leg across from her. He tensed as it groaned under his weight, but it held.
Joan took a sip of her cold klak and made a face. “Plenty of rest for the wicked. No rest for the heroic.”
“Right.” Sebastian rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Let’s get started, then. Where am I going?”
Joan shook her head. “We’re waiting for Oliver.”
“Oh, is he getting to rest then?” Sebastian scowled.
“I don’t think he’s resting.” Joan raised an eyebrow. “He’s saying goodbye to Captain Mal’ik.”
“Goodbye?”
“Captain Mal’ik and Hess are headed to Kaston first thing tomorrow morning,” Joan said. “Try to get the defense as ready as they can.”
“Even though they’ll be stabbed in the back.” Sebastian tossed his head and refused to verbally admit that it spoke well of Hess that he wasn’t completely abandoning Kaston. He was putting himself in harm’s way to stand with them.
“Do you want to talk about you and Hess?”
“No.” Sebastian didn’t blink at the blunt question. Joan didn’t answer right away, and Sebastian couldn’t help but fill the silence, “You don’t agree with him either.”
“I don’t need to agree with him to follow him.”
“Neither do I!” Sebastian threw his arms out wide. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m the best asset he’s got!”
“And he knows that.”
“He doesn’t act like it.” Sebastian crossed his arms and briefly considered fighting the pout on his face but then decided it wasn’t worth it.
Joan sighed. “How do you want him to act, Sebastian?” She went on before he could answer. “You know what he’s like. He’s got a lot on his mind, a lot on his shoulders, and a lot of decisions to make. He doesn’t have time—”
“To what? Say ‘thank you’? He doesn’t have time to say ‘thank you’ or ‘good job, Sebastian’?” Sebastian scoffed. “Or hey, maybe even ‘Sebastian,’ the whole thing, instead of ‘torvar’? It’s not that much longer.”
“You’re asking for things he won’t give you, Sebastian,” Joan said, and her voice was infuriatingly gentle. “He’s a good leader, a good man in a fight, but he’s not…” Her lips twisted, and Sebastian knew what she would say before she got the words out. “He’s not Farlon.”
Sebastian looked away, still scowling, then shook his head. “I don’t believe it. I mean, I know he’s not Farlon. But I’m killing myself for that man, and I don’t believe he’s incapable of seeing it.”
“You’re killing yourself for him or for the Resistance?”
“For the Resistance, obviously,” Sebastian snapped, letting his mouth go as his mind recovered from the stumble. “I just meant because he’s the leader. He’s our symbol, really, at this point. And he’s the one that orders me out to all these nice places all over the galaxy.”
Joan had a look in her eye that Sebastian didn’t like. “And he’s not anything else to you?”
Sebastian narrowed his eyes at her. “Well, he’s also an asshole, a bigot, and a prick.”
Joan smirked at him over her mug. “Anything else?”
Sebastian tilted his head and thought about it for a moment. “And a heartless, soulless jerk.”
