Chapter 34 #2
But even as I try to pull away, his lips press to mine, the taste of salt water mingling with the taste of Robin, all the home I ever need. “I don’t think I can do this without you.”
My heart breaks at the words. The admission that now, after all this time, so long living hard and distant and sick, I’ve let him in, and I can’t get him out again.
“I know this will destroy you,” he whispers, trembling fingers running over my lips—lips that he drinks in as if he’s savoring all the lost kisses from all the years we’re losing.
“Knowing you, Marco, has torn me apart in ways I didn’t think were possible.
But now I have known love. And it’s the last thing I ever want to know.
Love that is true, and strong, and untouchable.
Love like warriors share. Marco, this is a good death.
And I am asking you, as the man you love, who loves you, in this life and the next…
give me this noble death. I want it to be by your hands.
And I want it to mean something. This isn’t for them, all those people and their money and their bloodlust. This is how we cheat them.
This is how you save my sister, how you save yourself, how you take the most important piece of me, and keep me alive. Keep me with you. Marco…”
He breaks down, falling into my arms, sobbing, his fingers digging into my shoulder.
I try to calm him, stroking his hair, but it’s no use.
So we stand there in the hall, and we cry.
Cry for the love we’re losing. Cry for all the lost years.
Cry for our families and the families of all the men who lost their loved ones, who died in that arena.
For all the world in these hostile, barren, unfeeling wastelands, where this one beautiful thing bloomed, gorgeous, for such a short time.
I wrap my hand around his cheek, sinking my fingers into his hair, raising his face to mine.
And I promise him, “I will always love you, Robin. My heart is yours in this and every life. I pledge my soul to you, from here to the end of time. You are all the world to me, and if that is your wish, I will do what you ask.”
“Marco.” He kisses me, hard, kisses me and kisses me again, as if he could lose himself in me, join us, make us one whole person that could walk out of there tomorrow with this love intact.
But there is no love anymore. Not after tomorrow. There is never love again.
Even if I kill him, I’m leaving that arena a dead man.
But Robin’s smile, though sad and tear-stained, holds so much relief.
He’s at peace with his death. And in the stormy dark of his eyes, I can see all the worry he has left is for me.
Guilt that he’s asked me to do this. Concern for how I’ll cope.
But beyond it all, faith. Faith that I’ll do it. That I’ll keep Esme safe.
I would give my life a thousand times over for that look in any other context. Faith that I’d build us a beautiful home. Faith that I could grow him a good harvest. Faith that I would always be true, care for him with every piece of me until his dying day.
But this is the best I’ll get. Faith that I’ll give him a meaningful, noble death.
“I love you, Marco,” he whispers, then kisses me once again.
Esme shouts for him from the living room, so he leaves my side, leaves me here in the dark to try to come to terms with this.
But I don’t think I ever, ever will.
The afternoon goes on. He lavishes attention on Esme just as he should, though his voice and his hands shake from time to time. She seems to know something’s shifted, watches him a little more closely, waiting for the shoe to drop. But he keeps up the act.
He does it better than I ever could. He makes jokes, wrestles with her, looks through her sketches, keeps her spirits high. All while he knows he’ll never see her again.
For my part, I can barely string two words together. Maybe I managed the thought of our separation so far, pushed on all that time, because I imagined he’d be the one to kill me.
That’s when the understanding hits me.
That’s exactly why. I truly don’t think I was ever going to kill him. There was some peace, somewhere deep in my heart, thinking he would kill me instead.
It was fact. Fate.
But now there is no peace.
Though I’m to do it in the morning, though I’ll need my strength, my dinner goes untouched. The minutes flash by unmarked, and it’s a swirl of warmth and home and sadness that sings only, Robin. Robin. Gone.
The sky’s dark by the time Esme’s ready for bed.
She stands by Robin on the terrace, and his calm facade just about breaks me.
His quiet smile. He’s never going to see her again.
And this time tomorrow, she’ll be shattered.
When I tell her he’s dead. When I tell her some other man did it.
Just as soon as I’ve washed her brother’s blood off my hands.
He kisses her cheek like it’s any other night. Wraps his enormous, protective arms around her and holds her just a little longer than usual. Studies her face and says, “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to do amazing things.”
She stiffens. Looks at me. So I drop my eyes and wait for her to focus back on her brother. “Why are you saying that?”
“Can’t I tell you I love you?”
“I guess,” she says quietly.
“Good. I love you.” He kisses her cheek again, but a little more roughly, a little more playfully, and she laughs, the tension slipping away.
He lets her go then, just walk away to bed to sleep the full night through with no fear of what’s coming for her tomorrow. His miserable eyes watch her go, burning every last vision of her into his heart.
I love Robin.
I knew I loved Robin. But right about now, I think he’s the bravest, strongest, most honorable man there is.
I love him to the ends of the land and back a thousand times over.
And I’m just about to tell him that when the doorbell rings.
He flashes worried eyes up at me, and we listen to the sound of Maria’s steps running through the house.
He’ll have to hide if it’s the Emperor. Even now, after everything, he knows he’ll have to hide.
But seconds later she reappears alone, carrying only a letter, which she hands to me.
A short, hastily scrawled note from Evander.
My heart sinks even deeper as the message sinks in.
“It’s Cas,” I tell him as gently as I can. “Evander doesn’t think he’ll make it through the night.”