Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Robin: Blood
The afternoon sun beats down mercilessly as I raise my practice sword, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. My ribs ache from the fight, my shoulder throbs where the creature threw me to the ground, and the lack of sleep from last night isn’t helping.
Worth it, though. Every second with Marco was worth it.
It’s a rare day where we’re training on the arena sand, and Cas is circling me. He feints left, then strikes right, and I’m too sluggish to block properly. The wooden blade cracks against my already bruised ribs.
“Fuck,” I gasp, stumbling backward.
“Come on, Robin,” Cas says, not unkindly. “I know you’re knackered, but you’ve got to do better than that.”
I can still smell Marco on my hair—soap and sweat and something that makes me desperate to rewind time, to be back in his bed again.
Cas comes at me, and this time I barely get my sword up in time. The impact rattles through my bones.
“Right,” Cas announces suddenly, lowering his weapon. “I’ve got to take a piss.”
He flounces off toward the bathroom, probably giving me a break more than anything. I reach for my water bottle, grateful for the reprieve.
“Robin!”
I freeze. Jason steps toward me, practice sword in hand, that familiar smirk playing at his lips.
My gaze darts to Marco across the yard. He’s watching us, but makes no move to intervene. Usually, he keeps Jason and me miles apart.
“Oh, come on now, birdie,” Jason says, poisoning Marco’s endearment with his tongue. “I think you can manage five minutes with me without Daddy intervening.”
I grip my sword tighter, wariness flooding my system. “What do you want, Jason?”
“Congratulations,” he says casually, raising his blade.
I circle him slowly, muscles coiled. “For what?”
He lunges, but oddly holds his strength back, clearly seeking conversation more than combat. “On your new sponsor.”
“What?”
“I heard through the grapevine this morning that Vincent Crane is dropping me.” Jason’s voice is conversational, almost pleasant, which sets every nerve on edge.
“Who?”
“He’s been my biggest sponsor since I got here,” Jason continues, blocking my halfhearted strike. “But now he’s yours, after Marco’s and your performance the other day.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize. Not because I feel sorry for him, but because he’s being so polite about it. A trap.
“I’m sure you have others,” I manage.
Across the sand, Marco is now fully glowering at us, jaw tight.
Jason nods. “Of course I do.”
“Mind if I cut in?”
Cas clears his throat behind me, smiling at Jason, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. As if we’re dancing, Jason offers me up with a flourish and steps aside.
“That was weird,” I tell Cas once Jason’s out of earshot.
“What did the prick want?”
I fill him in quickly, keeping my voice low. Cas’s expression grows thoughtful.
“Nice one, mate,” he says, lightly punching my arm. “Send some of your horde of new sponsors my way, yeah?”
My gaze skids over to where Jason is now sparring with Max, movements fluid and controlled.
“Something’s off,” I say. “He was too… unaggressive about it.”
Cas’s face falls serious. “Listen, I’ve got your back,” he tells me quietly.
“Don’t you worry.” He jerks his head toward Marco.
“And so does he, half the time. So that’s one and a half of us looking out for you.
” Cas jabs at my collarbone. “Hey, where’s your favorite fashion accessory gone? I sort of miss it now.”
Under my pillow, safe and sound.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of drills and exhaustion.
At two, Marco makes us all sit in a ring and watch each other spar.
I can’t help but think this might just be to give me a break—it’s obvious how much I’m still suffering.
While I’m meant to be watching Max and Jason, I watch him instead, remembering how his hands ran over my naked body.
How he felt on my skin, strong and sure.
Finally, it’s time to shower. Cas drags me along before I can linger behind with Marco.
Yet I catch him anyway, towel wrapped around my waist, alone in the corridor, clearly waiting for me. He reaches for my wrist.
“I’m going to go back,” Marco tells me quickly. My heart sinks—I thought he might stay for dinner. “To see how Esme is,” he explains.
I nod. It makes sense, even though it should be me getting to see my own sister. “Thank you. Tell her I miss her.”
He leans in, presses his lips to mine briefly, then he’s gone, leaving me standing there with the taste of him on my mouth.
When I reach the dining table, I find that Cas has saved me a seat, the pair of us far away from Jason.
“Good work,” I mumble as I slide in beside him, where tonight’s dinner is already waiting for me—stew and bread, steam rising from the bowls like incense.
But my eyes keep drifting to Jason, who’s laughing with Max and René like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t just lose his biggest sponsor.
I tuck into the stew with more appetite than I’ve had all day. The carrots are surprisingly sweet, melting on my tongue, and the earthy dumplings taste like home somehow. Like something Esme might have made if we’d had better ingredients on Atrea.
“This is surprisingly brilliant,” I tell Cas, spooning up another dumpling.
He grins, mouth full. “I know, right?”
The second dumpling is even better than the first. I bite down, savoring the rich, meaty flavor—
Something sharp slices through my mouth.
Pain explodes across my tongue, my left cheek, white-hot and immediate. I feel something cutting, tearing, shredding the soft tissue inside my mouth. My hand flies to my face as panic floods my system.
“Cas—” I try to say, but the word comes out garbled, wrong.
I grab his arm, squeezing hard enough to bruise. He turns, fork halfway to his mouth, and his expression shifts from confusion to horror as I open my mouth.
Blood pours out. Not just a trickle—a torrent that splashes onto my bowl, my shirt, the table. The metallic taste fills my mouth, choking me.
“Oh, fuck,” Cas hisses. “Okay. Robin, stay calm.”
His fingers probe gently, carefully, and then he’s extracting something small and gleaming. He holds it up to the light.
A razor blade. Tiny, deadly, slick with my blood.
The entire dining hall falls silent. Every conversation dies, every spoon stops clinking against ceramic. The only sound is my ragged breathing and the steady drip of blood hitting the floor.
Cas’s voice cuts through the silence, cold as winter steel.
“Which one of you fuckers did this?”
Nobody speaks. Nobody moves.
I try to say something, anything, but when I open my mouth, more blood gushes out. I’m choking on it, drowning in my own blood, and the panic makes everything worse.
Cas grabs my arm, still clutching the razor blade in his other hand.
“Come on,” he says, hauling me to my feet. “We’re getting you to Evander. Now.”
Blood drips steadily as he pulls me toward the medical room. Each step sends fresh waves of agony through my mouth, my tongue swelling, the cuts deep and ragged.
Cas doesn’t knock on Evander’s door. He bursts through, dragging me behind him.
Evander turns from his desk, eyebrows raised in annoyance.
“I wasn’t aware we had an appointment, Caspian.”
Cas thrusts me forward, and I look at Evander helplessly, blood streaming down my chin.
“Help him!” Cas says, real fear punctuating his voice. “Please!”
Evander’s expression shifts instantly. “What happened?”
“Someone put a razor blade in his food!”
He holds it up, and shock rips across Evander’s face. “Tell the guards I said to fetch Marco back,” he says to Cas, voice sharp with urgency.
Cas nods without question, handing the blade over before disappearing through the door.
I try to speak, but my tongue won’t cooperate. It fills my mouth like something foreign, pressing against my teeth, the roof of my mouth. Every breath has to squeeze past it.
“Do you think there’s a chance you swallowed another one?” Evander asks.
I shake my head frantically.
“Thank the heavens for that. Sit on the bed.”
He shoves a metal bowl under my chin. “Try not to swallow the blood.”
Too late. I’ve already swallowed a fuck ton of it, and my stomach churns with nausea.
My vision blurs. Cold sweat breaks out across my forehead as my whole body begins to shake. The shock hits me all at once—someone tried to kill me. Someone in that dining hall wanted me dead, and they nearly succeeded.
Evander drops to his knees in front of me. His chest rises slowly, deliberately. He holds my gaze, breathes in through his nose. Then out through his mouth, measured and long.
He does it again. In. Out. His hand comes up, palm facing me, and he lifts it as he inhales, lowers it as he exhales.
“Copy me,” he says firmly. “In. Out.”
I try to follow his lead, begging my racing heart to calm down.
The door slams open. Cas storms back in, face flushed and furious.
“Out!” Evander snaps. “I don’t need you in here.”
“Fuck that!” Cas shouts. “You’ll have to get the guards if you want me out of here.”
I try to tell Cas to calm down, but all that comes out is a soft moan.
Evander ignores Cas and moves quickly, pressing gauze pads against the worst of the bleeding.
He hands me chips of ice. “Let them melt on your tongue.”
The cold is a shock against the raw flesh.
The door bursts open again. Marco, still in his training clothes, hair wild with sweat and panic. His eyes find mine immediately. Something breaks in his expression.
Marco rushes forward, falling to his knees and grabbing my hand. Despite Cas and Evander, I don’t bother hiding my relief at seeing him. I squeeze his hand tightly, producing a noise from the back of my throat that’s half whimper, all gratitude.
“He can’t talk,” Cas explains. “The razor blade has completely fucked his mouth up.”
Marco runs his thumb across my jaw, my chin, wiping a dribble of blood from it. His touch is impossibly gentle.
Then he stands.
“Jason,” he says simply.