Chapter 17 #2
Robin’s fingertips land on my cheek. I brush them away.
So he gathers both my hands into his, pulling them from the silk robe’s fastenings, taking them to his lips, where he kisses my knuckles, speaking between each press of his lips.
“I won’t forget tonight. No matter what you say to me tomorrow in training, no matter what you do, I won’t forget.
I understand now. It all finally makes sense.
” Then he pulls my hands to his heart. “Tell me you forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” It comes out more curt than I’d meant it to. “I almost killed you.”
“Because you want me strong.”
The truth of the words, something I could never have articulated, hits me like a punch.
His understanding of me. That he’s seen through it all in a way even I haven’t.
It sends my mind into a scramble, and it’s all I can do to take his hand and lead him away, into my bedchamber.
Robin has slept through the night curled around me. When he stirs, it’s just long enough to press a kiss to my shoulder, then he drifts off again.
I have nightmares every night, tonight included. But Robin seems calm. Steady. He hasn’t been here for as long as I have, I suppose. Or maybe my presence is some sort of comfort to him.
But he’s no comfort to me.
With every hour that ticks by, the horror of his coming death slips between us, a dark shadow, but a living, tactile thing that separates us, makes it all feel like tonight never happened.
I’m going to kill him.
If someone else doesn’t do it first, I’m going to kill him.
He has a sister, and I care.
He has a home, and I care.
And if I care, I lose the battle.
If Victora has taken Atrea, if they have my mother, my brother, my father, I can help. I’m the champion. I have the Emperor’s favor. I can return to them with more power than anyone else could wield, and I could save them.
Save them from what?
If they didn’t win that battle, my father is surely dead. My mother… a ‘housekeeper’ like Maria? Or worse? A brothel? Some soldier’s slave?
A cold sweat slinks across my skin, and I slip from beneath Robin’s too-hot arm.
My brother, enslaved somewhere. How long would he last in the mines? Breaking rocks? If they sent him away, there should be a record. If they took Atrea…
I need to get back.
My family might be depending on me.
And here I am, taking this risk, about to lose the Emperor’s favor.
Losing my grip on the game.
All for this man who told me exactly what he thinks of me yesterday.
I want him.
I want Robin.
I want him with everything in me.
Which is why he needs to go.
The sky is turning purple when Robin stumbles into the lounge. I’m drenched in sweat, breathing hard, my arms shaking from the workout. I haven’t stopped since I left him. I need to get stronger. “Finally up, baby bird?”
“Yeah, sorry. I slept better than I thought I would.” He drags his hair out of his eyes while I reach for a towel to soak up the sweat, pressing it to my face to block out his rugged beauty.
Fresh from my sheets, a sight I’d kill to wake up to every day.
But I won’t die for it. I won’t sacrifice my family for it.
“Put your top on. I’m calling the guards.”
“What?” He throws an anxious glance toward the door. “Already?”
“What do you think this is? You thought you might stay for breakfast?”
“Marco—”
“Guards!”
They’re fast, the handle of the door I already unlocked rattling, the clank of Robin’s chains that I left discarded on the tiles behind it jangling.
I snatch up my water to keep myself occupied while Robin dives for his tunic.
It’s still on the floor by the couch where he took it off last night, where he fucked me, where we said all those things. Things I’ll never say to him again.
“Just like that?” he mutters, head down, clasping the buckles of his tunic. “After everything?”
“Sorry, how rude I’ve been.” His eyes meet mine across the room, dark, angry, exactly as they should be. “Thank you for last night. It was… adequate.”
His furious eyes flare. Between clenched teeth he grits out, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
The guards enter, Robin’s restraints glinting in the feeble morning light.
I’ve already turned my back on him, but I pause just long enough to meet his gaze one last time—to bring the axe down on whatever silken thread he might think still exists between us.
“Oh, and you asked me last night who was better.”
The beautiful pink glow fades from his cheeks, the fury in his eyes slipping to hurt disbelief as he anticipates my answer.
“Him. Always him. I’ll always choose him.”
I run my eyes over him one last time—Robin, fresh in the morning on my own carpet, in my own home, everything I want.
“And not because he makes me,” I add. “Because I enjoy it. Because he’s your superior in every way. Nice try, though.”
I leave before I can hear or see another thing. Out of there, away from him, back to my bedchamber. Where the curtains are drawn, where it’s dark and silent, and where my pillow smells like him.
Where he held me all through the night.
Where the sheets hold the shape of his body.
Where I can lie down and breathe him in, and try my very best to hate him.