24. Robin
Robin
I race back toward the lake, my heart hammering. The black waters stretch before me like a mirror reflecting nothing, and for a moment the silence feels absolute.
Then I see him.
Leon stands near the boathouse, his massive frame leaning heavily to one side, one hand pressed against his ribs. But he’s upright, he’s breathing, he’s alive.
“Leon,” I gasp, stumbling the last few feet to reach him.
He waves off my horrified expression with a grunt. “I’ve had worse. I’m fine.”
Fierce gratitude clogs my throat. How much has he given for Eva over the years? How many times has he bled and suffered and nearly died to keep her safe? The depth of his loyalty, his endurance, his quiet strength leaves me awed and humbled.
And I was so willing to think he had betrayed her.
“It’s over,” I tell him breathlessly.
“Yes. I was watching. She has made me proud.” He holds up his phone with a fierce smile, and I see he’s been watching the security feed. “Your face,” he adds, nodding toward the water. “Clean yourself up. You don’t want the young ones to see blood on you.”
I kneel beside the lake’s edge, cupping the cold water in my palms. It bites against my skin, shocking me fully alert as I splash it over my cheeks and forehead.
The ritual feels sacred somehow, baptismal.
Each handful of icy lake water carries away more fear, more death, more of the helpless dread.
When I finally sit back on my heels, dripping and shivering, I feel renewed in some fundamental way.
“How long until daylight?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.
Leon chuckles, the sound rusty but warm. “We won’t have to wait that long. The winds have picked up.”
I frown, confused, but before I can ask what he means, the clouds above us begin to shift and part. Moonlight breaks through in silver streams, illuminating the water’s surface and revealing the stars that have been hidden all night.
“Mira’s known how to read direction by the stars since she was two years old,” Leon explains, his voice carrying a note of grandfatherly pride I’ve never heard from him before.
As if to demonstrate his point, Leon cups his hands around his mouth and bellows across the still water: “ Mira! Mira! Mira! ”
The sound echoes across the lake, getting softer as it bounces off the far shore, finally fading into whisper-quiet ripples that lap at our feet.
We wait in tense silence, ears straining for any response. My heart pounds with anticipation and dread. Are they safe? Are they still alive?
At last, cutting through the night air, comes the rhythmic splash of oars.
I strain my eyes toward the water, and as the clouds continue to clear, I can make out a faint silhouette moving toward us.
The boat emerges from shadows like something from a dream—Mira and Adrian pulling the oars with steady, powerful strokes, Dane, Alicia, and Maisie huddled together in the center, frightened and worried, but gloriously alive.
“Robin!” Maisie’s scream carries across the water, pure relief and joy cracking her voice. “Robin!”
I wave frantically as the boat glides toward shore. The moment the boat scrapes against the dock, Maisie launches herself at me. I catch her, holding her tight against my chest as she sobs into my shoulder.
“I prayed to the great raven,” she whispers through her tears. “I prayed so hard for her to keep everyone safe, and she did! She kept you safe!”
“Yes, sweetheart,” I manage, my own voice breaking. “The raven protected us all.”
One by one, I hug them—Alicia clinging to me with unusual silence, Dane trying to act tough but melting into my embrace, Adrian steady and strong as he helps them all from the boat.
“The danger is over,” I tell them, forcing conviction into my shaking voice. “It’s over now. We’re all safe.”
But even as I speak the words, my mind races ahead to practical concerns. How on earth can I take them back to the castle? The Great Hall looks like a war zone, Stefan’s body is lying somewhere inside, mercenaries’ corpses scattered through corridors…
I can’t let them see that carnage, can’t let those images scar them.
Leon, with an uncanny ability to read thoughts that I think must come from years of anticipating Eva’s needs, speaks up before I can voice my concerns.
“You are all coming to stay at my house tonight,” he announces. “Mira will lead the way.”
The kids agree eagerly, Maisie especially pressing closer to my side, and we make our way across the grounds in a strange procession, Mira leading the way, Leon limping but determined at the back, the others keeping close together.
To my surprise, Leon’s house isn’t the sparse quarters I expected.
It’s a substantial stone building with multiple rooms, comfortable furniture, and the lived-in warmth of a real home.
Photographs line the mantelpiece—Leon with a woman who must have been his wife, a younger version of himself with a small dark-haired girl who’s obviously Mira’s mother.
Despite having their pick of bedrooms, the kids elect to sleep together in the largest room.
“So Maisie won’t be scared,” Alicia explains, though I suspect they all need the comfort of each other’s presence after what they’ve endured.
I help them settle—finding extra blankets, making sure they have water, tucking Maisie in with the fierce tenderness that comes from nearly losing someone precious.
Alicia claims the spot beside her, clutching her little sister’s hand like an anchor, while Dane grumbles about sharing space but curls up close behind them.
Watching them arrange themselves with such care for each other makes my heart swell with love and pride. They’ve been through hell tonight, but they’re together, they’re safe, and they’re still fundamentally themselves.
Their breathing evens out into sleep quickly, and I return to the main room where Mira and Adrian are tending to Leon’s wounds with a first aid kit.
The sight of them working together—Mira’s competent hands cleaning and bandaging, Adrian holding supplies steady with quiet focus—fills me with warmth.
“Thank you,” I tell Leon, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for everything. For protecting Eva, for saving my family, for?—”
“Stop,” he cuts me off gruffly, but not unkindly. “You don’t owe me gratitude for doing my job.”
“This went far beyond any job,” I insist. “You nearly died for us tonight. Multiple times.”
Leon’s weathered face softens slightly. “Eva is like a daughter to me. Has been since she was younger than Maisie. And you—you are family now, too. You and your brothers and sisters, they matter to her, which makes them matter to me.”
Mira finishes securing a bandage around his ribs and sits back with satisfaction. “There. Now you need rest.”
“I’ll rest when I’m good and ready,” Leon replies, then turns those sharp eyes on me. “Robin. We will watch over the children. We will keep them safe.”
I know what he’s saying. But I still feel torn. “You all need a rest. I should stay here with?—”
“The kids are safe,” Adrian interrupts softly. “Eva needs you more.”
“Eva can handle anything,” Mira scoffs, and I have to smile, because Mira is right. But I remember the look in Eva’s eyes when she sent me away to take care of my family, and leave her and Leon alone to protect the castle.
I remember the fear beneath the fierceness, the vulnerability she works so hard to hide.
“She can,” I agree. “But she shouldn’t have to. Not alone.”
Because I’m no longer just Eva’s lover, her kept woman, the prize she won at auction. I’m her equal, and maybe her anchor in whatever storms she still has to face.
I’m not the naive innocent I once was, and I know that Eva does need me. Not to be protected or sheltered, but to stand beside her.
Because that’s what partners do.
I hug Adrian one more time—my brother who stepped up tonight, who helped save us all, who’s become a man when I wasn’t looking—and then I bid everyone a soft goodnight and step back into the grounds, heading toward Castle Blacklake, and the woman I love.
But I don’t have to go far, because halfway there, hurrying down the path, I see Eva Novak, her face pale, but her smile wide when she sees me.
We don’t need words. We crash together and cling, our kisses saying everything necessary.