“So, you’ve quit the tournament?” India Dellis’s eyebrows pull together, and she leans back. “But you beat Richard and me today. Thoroughly.”
She sips on her martini, and I try to nurse my glass of wine. I already feel like crap from crying most of this afternoon, and I don’t want to make it worse. Crying is not very Skylar-like, and I’m not used to this drain of emotions, this slog through life after having bawled my eyes out. I should be in bed, but India’s invitation left no wiggle room. I took a hot shower and put ice packs on my eyes to stop the swelling. At least tomorrow, I can return to the Amagi and sleep in my own bed.