Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Marco: Break
Three weeks on, and Robin’s as good as new. We’ve built an oasis from the blood-stained sand they gave us. All day we’re together, even if we pretend we’re apart. Then all night, he’s mine.
Every night.
He insists on keeping up this charade, pretending he’s sleeping in his cell. Maybe some of them believe it. But most of them are dead now anyway.
Val and Juan went in the second variety round. Iván a week after that. Jason fed Fredrik to wildcats yesterday. So now it’s only the champions left.
Me, Robin, Cas, Max, René, Jason, Harlan, and Mikhail.
Three more games, then the last one faces me. That’s how it always goes.
Robin’s terrified he’ll be up against Cas, and it’s a fair bet he will be.
Cas has got the idea of how the game works, and he went into his last match looking like a star.
He almost seemed to enjoy taking Val out, and the crowd ate it up.
He’s a favorite, better looking than Jason now he’s got that scar.
And he’s new and fresh, unlike Max, who’s never been able to crack the crowd or the sponsors the way one grin from Cas does.
A match between Robin and Cas would be a showstopper. That’s how I’d arrange it if I weren’t involved.
But since I am, I can only watch Cas for his weak spots, catalogue a list of places Robin can slide the knife in to murder his best friend.
It’s dirty work. And it only hints at what’s going on beneath.
I should be watching Robin for those weak spots. I should be mapping his body, plotting routes to his downfall. I should be meditating on the thought of splitting his skin, doing it to all of them, because I don’t know who I’m up against.
They loved us together, the crowd. It would be smart to recreate that next season. Only I’m not going to be here next season, so maybe they want him to be the one to take me out. The new favorite.
The best chance of my defeat.
But they can’t know that.
For all the talk swirling around the dungeon, all the whispers of the guards, I’ve no reason to think any of the sponsors know what’s going on.
That I’ve fallen for one of the players.
That he’s become everything to me.
That the thought of raising a hand to him in anger makes me sick to my stomach, makes me as weak as I was that first day, when they told me what was expected of me.
He makes me feel like the man I used to be. Free and young in the salt and sand. Someone with hopes and dreams. Someone who could look out at the horizon over the sea and wonder what beauties might lie beyond. Someone who had a future.
But I know now, beyond the shores of Atrea, all the world is black and burned and broken, ravaged and sick. And so I’m going back there. I’ll see my family safe. I’ll see Esme safe. I’ll take Maria with me. And once I finally settle, I’m never leaving again. But before I build a home for myself…
Some stupid part of me is imagining coming back here. Getting a job to do with Deathball, to stay by Robin’s side.
I know some people do it, rarely.
Evander is ex-Deathball. Not that he’ll ever be a free man. You can’t earn that without the favor of the crowd. It was the sacrifice he made to get out of the game. But then he had the skills to escape. They still needed him for a reason. It’s the only thing that saved him from prison.
What use would I be to them? Aging, commanding no pull of authority with the sponsors. Or with the Emperor.
The Emperor.
The thought sinks my stomach like a stone.
He hasn’t come to me in a month. I want to believe it’s over, that he’s found a replacement.
He’s sent me things, fine foods, robes, but he hasn’t visited once. And he hasn’t summoned me either.
Maybe Julius is keeping a closer eye on him. Maybe Julius is beginning to take over.
If Julius were in charge, then I’d never find a decent position here. I’d probably have to flee the city entirely.
And if Jason makes captain… What would that mean for Robin?
All the angles, every consideration, swirl and press on me until I reach my laneway, dark in the meagre moonlight. I take a moment to breathe in the sweeter air of the hilltop, to look over the flickering lights of Victora below. And, like I always do, I force the troubles from my mind.
Robin’s not far behind me. Soon, he’ll make me forget all of it.
He’ll kiss me, he’ll lie to me and talk of our future together on Atrea.
And I’ll believe him. All the night through, I’ll believe every word he says.
And I’ll save all the pain for the day we part.
Whether that’s when I lock him in his cell for the last time before I walk out of this place, or when I smash the life out of him with one hard blow from the Deathball.
Either way, we have one month left together. At most.
The familiar sound of white gravel crunching beneath my sandals fills the air, and I wonder if I’ll miss it someday. If any part of me will hold some fondness for any of this. If I’ll look back on these stolen nights with Robin in kind, or if I’ll wish I could forget it all.
As I make the final turn toward my door, I send the guards back for Robin. They know the routine by now. And all the original scandal of it has slipped to boredom. They must be sick to death of walking that route, wishing almost as badly as I do that Robin could just leave with me.
But they take their money and their unspoken complaints, and they leave me so I can slip inside my villa to wait.
But before I can get the key in the lock, a louder crunch of gravel behind me, then the sharp glint of armor catching the light.
New guards approaching my door. And behind them, the deep breaths of four men carrying a heavy sedan chair.
I lock eyes with one of the guards, and his eyebrows rise, almost as if he can read my thoughts. As if he’s saying, ‘You can’t get away now. I’ve seen you. It’s too late.’
Stopping, I suck in a deep breath to try to calm my nerves—to try to think of an excuse.
I know there isn’t one. Because some part of me knew this was coming. That it was all too perfect, those peaceful, beautiful nights.
A silk slipper steps out onto the ground, a ruffle of white follows, billowing in the evening breeze. “Marco! Going somewhere?”
My brain scrambles for an answer. “Out. I was going… out.”
“Ah. Just as well I caught you, then.” He claps, and the whole party disappears into the shadows, all except those head guards who take their place either side of my door.
The Emperor approaches, and I stand there, right in front of him, blocking his way. I have no idea what I’m doing, what I’m thinking. “I was just going to… to…”
“Well, now you’re not,” he cuts me off sharply.
So I open the door.
What am I supposed to do? Robin’s coming. Robin will be on his way here any minute now, and I don’t know what’s worse. If he finds me with him? If the Emperor sees Robin? Can I make an excuse as to why I’ve brought him here?
“Maria?” I call as I step in, closing the door behind me. But not a peep comes back. Maybe she’s gone to bed. More likely, she’s heard us and taken Esme somewhere she won’t find out what’s happening.
That the man her brother’s fallen for does… this.
“My lord,” I begin, trying my hardest to sound at ease, to smile and smile and always smile. “I didn’t expect you, or I would have prepared.”
“Marco…” His breath streaks across my neck as he turns, slides his hand over my hip, and pushes me back against the wall.
Every nerve in my body is on alert, like this is an attack.
Like it’s battle. And it’s not. It stopped being that five years ago.
It’s just what happens. It’s what I do. It’s the bit where I close my eyes and let go.
But my hands won’t work the way they’re supposed to. It feels like touching a diseased thing—like I’ll be contaminated too.
“You and me, we don’t need to stand on ceremony,” he says, and my pulse is pounding so fast his words are just noise. Noise with so little meaning.
Because suddenly I know what’s worse. Robin seeing this. Robin finding me like this. The look on Robin’s face.
Not even the betrayal. I think he would understand. But the pity. The memory of this. This moment that would tarnish everything. That if we ever make it out, would haunt us—haunt me—because I’d see it in his eyes whether it was there or not.
Another man’s hands on me.
Me, compliant, whether I wanted it or not.
A ghost inside my skin and my heart, when it was just born fresh. When loving Robin made me new. When I’ve realized, I’m his. His. His and his alone, for now and forever.
My head turns fast, his wet lips landing on my cheek. I can’t even hide the shudder. And in the instant, he’s furious. His eyes turn black, demonic, a dark vengeance written in them as he pulls back.
But he quickly catches it. Gives me a fake smile. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes.” The word’s out, and I’m slipping away from him, moving to the center of the living room for all the space I can get from him. “Yes, it’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”
What the fuck am I doing?
My hands are shaking, so I ball them into fists, digging nails deep into my palms.
But I can’t stop it. It’s a revulsion that is nature, and I am not the man I was last time we met. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He pulls tight the robe I hadn’t seen him loosening, crossing the floor in repressed fury. “What do you mean? What ‘this?’”
As if I’m not his whore. As if this is just a normal visit between friends.
“I think, with the season so close to ending, I think I need…”
His eyes draw to two dark slits. But he only watches me, makes me speak on.
“I think I need to take a walk, then sleep. It’s been a lot, with training.
And I think you’re right. I think being captain…
It’s not something I can do anymore. But as this is my last season, as we agreed, I will see it through.
Right up until the last match. And then, when I’m free, I intend to leave Victora. ”
“Oh, do you?” He says it on a vicious laugh and my insides crumple.